Blonde Fury II (18 page)

He watched long enough to ensure the girl behaved herself and then beckoned Asil over.

“Show her the solitary confinement cells
before she goes
to her stall, and when I’ve finished with you tonight I want you to sleep with her,
she did well,
” he told her.

Asil
smiled and bowed then
led the tall blonde away as soon as the WPRA rep. had once more zipped himself up and had set off for the airport.

On her leash,
Sophie followed behind Asil, her eyes devouring the girl’s legs and bottom. The
Prince
’s words rang in her ears even as the memory of his cock in her mouth remained with her. She had never enjoyed running as a pony so much and her owner was pleased with her. What more could she want?

They were nearing the grand staircase that led up to the palace’s back door
and as if she had read
Sophie’s
mind, Asil suddenly wheeled around and reaching up, grabbed Sophie’s hair and pulled her face down to her own.
Her expression was of cold ferocity and Sophie stared back in sudden fear.

“Listen! He wants me to show you the solitary cells because if you don’t win the big race, that’s where you’re going! Understand? Mind you, they’ll feed you ok because he had to pay for you. But me, I was a freebie a
n
d I nearly starved down there! So don’t go thinking everything’s rosy just because he fucked your mouth!” She stopped suddenly and seemed to think of something, then quickly she darted forwards and kissed Sophie on the lips.

“
And it is
a lovely mouth,” she went on more softly. “But if anyone saw that, I’ll be back in those cells rather than sleeping with you tonight. The
Prince
is a hard man if he’s crossed, always remember that!”

Then she turned and led Sophie on again, veering to the left before the stairs and taking her through a small door at ground level. They had to stop and let their eyes adjust to the comparative gloom inside
before they went on down some steps. They came to a lobby where a man lounged behind a desk. He had an array
of screens in front of him and
looked up and leered when he saw them.

“His Highness wants this one to see the solitary cells,” Asil said nodding towards Sophie.

“Oh good! I’d like her down here!”
he said, standing up and coming round the desk.
He was a l
anky individual with an ill favoured and cruel look about him.

“
You know what happens if you touch a slave in solitary!” Asil retorted.

“Yes, but there’s always before and after! I remember fucking what was l
eft of you when we took you out. After we’d hosed you down of course.” H
is grin became even more unpleasant and Sophie could feel Asil’s fear of him. He saw it too and reached out to hold her right breast, his fingers clawing into the expensive silk of her shirt.

“Alright, but I’ll have to tether this one first,” she said.

She led Sophie over to the wall
beside the desk
where there were coat hooks and looped her leash over one before tying it. She gave Sophie a brave little smile and a pat on the bottom before she left her.

“I shouldn’t be too long,” she whispered.

Sophie stared at the grimy wall and listened to the sounds coming from behind her
. There was the rustle of clothing and then a strained whimper from Asil followed by a soft groan of male pleasure. Sophie risked a small turn of her head, Asil was naked and lying on her back on the desk. One of her graceful legs was pulled up and the foot was resting on the top of the desk. The man had simply lifted his robe to his waist and his hand was busily working between Asil’s thighs. She could also see
her
small hand gripped around the dark skinned shaft of the man’s cock, she was masturbating him and Sophie could appreciate that she was trying to get him to come as fast as she could. He was wise to it however and pulled away
after a few minutes, with
a harsh laugh. Then he dragged Asil towards him until both legs hung over the edge of the desk
, he stepped between them
and holding his robe up he moved in to fuck her.
He seemed to slip into her easily and she gave a moan of mingled pleasure and shame as she opened
easily
for him and Sophie saw her lift her legs and wrap them around him.

The man laughed at her as he began to fuck her, jerking his hips backwards and forwards, shaking her slender body as he rammed in to his fullest extent. He seemed to be enjoying her grimaces of discomfort as much as the pleasures of her body.

“You’re just a slave, bitch! You fuck whoever wants you. And you want whoever fucks you too!” He laughed again and then suddenly pulled out of her. “Now suck!” he said.

Asil levered herself up off the desk and slowly got down onto her knees. He gripped his hands in her thick mane of hair and pulled her face onto his cock.
Sophie just had time to see her soft lips forced wide open by the shaft before her face was buried so far against him she could see nothing except the back of her head and his hands gripped in her hair. For a few moments the man remained still and then he gave out a long sigh of ecstatic pleasure and began to thrust his hips back and forth with desperate haste. Sophie saw Asil’s small hands curl into fists and beat against the man’s thighs but then relax and hold them close to her as she swallowed.

When he had finished with her, the man shoved her away and returned to his seat. Asil coughed
, swallowed a couple of times
and sat up slowly then gathered her clothes and dressed, raking her fingers through her dishevelled hair. When she came to release Sophie, she winked at her.

“Not a bad
cock
, but he could wash
it
a bit more often,” she whispered, licking her lips.

Sophie followed her down more stairs and here there were lights at regular intervals. The air grew danker and Sophie began to shiver as it grew colder too. Eventually they arrived in a stone passage that led away under
a long
line of dim lights.

“These are just the cells,” Asil told her. “You’d better have a look anyway. Know your owner, my girl!”

Sophie was led
into the corridor and found a long line of doors on her left, each one had
a small
grille set into it.

“Go and look,” Asil said.

Sophie went cautiously up to the door and peered in. There was a small window in the far wall of the cell and Sophie could just make out
the outlines of four
naked women sitting on a stone bench along one wall. They looked up as her face blocked a bit of light and she heard the chink and
clank
of chains.

“There’s always a few down here. Sometimes just for a day or so, sometimes longer. They’re in for everything from disobedience to laziness or maybe choking on a man’s cock
, or because they’ve got their periods
. It doesn’t take much to get a few days down here. But that’s not solitary – not by a long way.”

She pulled on Sophie’s leash and went back to the foot of the stairs, then stopped by a wooden trapdoor in the floor. She let the leash go for a moment to stoop down and haul up on a metal ring set in the door. She grunted with effort and slowly the door rose and to Sophie’s horror she saw further steps descending.

“Come on,” Asil said and took up the leash again to lead Sophie down the steep spiral staircase. To her surprise the light actually grew brighter and they found themselves in a passageway with an arched roof that made even Asil bend and Sophie had to practically bend double. The light came from strip lights placed every few feet along the short passage. There were four doors. They had no grilles. Asil went up to one and threw it open.

“There’s no slaves down here today,” she said and pulled Sophie inside. The room was
as low as the passage and
solid stone, with no window, just a stone bench and a bucket in one corner. It was barely b
ig enough for the two of them. But s
trangely it was well lit.

“Lights stay on all day every day,” Asil said. “You never know whether it
’
s day or night. They feed you and empty the bucket once a day – if you’re lucky – but you can’t tell.
Sometimes they turn the lights out and leave them out
, maybe for a day or for a week, you can’t tell
.” Sop
hie saw Asil shiver. “I tried screaming and begging but nothing happens.
Then it’s silence
and the dark
. Usually they chain your hands,” she gestured at two chains hanging from the centre of the stone ceiling, “so you can’t play with yourself. Of course it means there are other things you can’t do, but that’s not their problem.”

Sophie considered this and made a face.

Asil smiled grimly. “Yes, you’re a bit ripe when they take you out. And there’s no sound, no contact. No pleasure, no pain. Nothing
…
Don’t have him send you here!” The last words came out as a hoarse whisper and now Sophie understood the fear she had seen in Asil’s eyes in the plane.

“Why did…?” she had to risk speaking to ask.

“Because one of his guests said I wasn’t a good fuck. He was so drunk he hadn’t been able to fuck me
at all
and his hangover made him vicious the next morning. When I came out his Highness said I’d been in for a month, he hadn’t meant me to be but Selim had forgotten to order my release
. We’re just slaves, we don’t matter! Never forget that!
” Asil’s bottom lip was trembling and Sophie tried to imagine thirty whole days of stone, cold
,
utter
dark
or pitiless light,
and silence. Alone.
They might remember to feed you, they might not. They might remember to release you. Or they might not.
And
suddenly
she knew that she would win whatever race the
Prince
entered her for, or die trying.

Much later she awoke in the dark of her stall. As she blinked her way to wakefulness she saw a girl’s
shadowy
figure unlocking the door of her stall. Once it was open
she
hurried in and immediately knelt to embrace her. It was Asil
, and in the dark
Sophie bathed her face in the fragrance of her hair and the softness of the lips that found hers and kissed her with desperate passion
. In the gloom she fumbled behind Sophie to release her cuffs and the strap that led from them to the back of her collar so she couldn’t slip her hands under her and get them in front of her. Then there was the delicious fumbling to rid Asil of her clothes and finally the two women clung together, pressing their
warm,
naked flesh to each other. Sophie bent her head and n
u
zzled one of Asil’s breasts and h
er nostrils picked up an unmistakable odour.

Asil laughed and lay back on the straw. “He left
plenty of his come
inside me so you could have it. He says there’s
plenty
more where that came from if you win. But if not…” she didn’t need to finish the sentence and in any case Sophie was already burrowing down between Asil’s spread thighs, licking up her owner’s spunk from the girl’s smooth
and warm skin
then questing deep inside her sheath to find if there was any more. There was
, and she
sucked and lapped at each thick
, pungent
droplet, making Asil cry out in pleasure
.
In the afternoon he had spent so deep in her throat that she had not been able to taste him, but now she could relish his full pungency, the actual taste of true ownership and complete power.
The taste of girl juice soon replaced that of sperm
, however,
and Sophie withdrew a little so she could lick along the girl’s perineum and was rewarded by another globule of sperm that had oozed down to Asil’s anus. The sensation of having Sophie’s tongue rimming her made her squeal with pleasure and her hands gripped hard in her hair to force her to carry on. Sophie gave a muffled groan of her own pleasure as she felt the grip tighten.

While she was down there she saw the thick tramlines inscribed on Asil’s beautifully rounded bottom and once she turned over, Sophie kissed them all and then moved up to kiss the welts on her back.

It was a long night and neither girl got much sleep.

“She’s not being entered!” Brian’s voice was high pitched with shock as he studied the e mail.

“Poor girl!
Must be the only one for miles around
then
!”
Martha looked up from her work with a smile.

Brian reached out and smacked her bottom. “I mean Ace. She’s not being run in the Bakhtar Open.”

Martha’s expression changed instantly to
surprise. “Why not? She was
odds on surely!”

“I’ve just had a mail from Neil at Proteus and as it
’s a street circuit with long stretches of cobbles
, he’s not risking her. He says she could be damaged by a fall.”

“Is that a
possibilit
y?”

Brian shrugged. “It could happen, yes. But she runs risks like that at every Derby and every games she takes part in.”

“I saw her come off the track at a Derby last month. Right up on the bend it was, she must have come down from all of twenty feet. Didn’t hurt herself,” Martha mused and went back to working with the mortar and pestle. They had moved back into the old CSL office now that twenty five slaves had been returned to their owners.
Three of the barracks had been closed and there was no auction scheduled for at least a fortnight, so CSL was as quiet as it had been for years. They had gone back to Carlo’s notes on how to get the best out of promising material and Martha had stumbled across a recipe for a ginger-based mixture which he claimed could get a pony to run up to twenty per cent faster. She was going to try it out that afternoon.

“Mind you that was onto a mat rather than cobbles,” she added.

“Nah!” Brian said
, shaking his head
. “The
Prince
is insisting all entrants have a
girth
harness so their hands are free, specially so if they do fall
on the cobbles
they can get their hands down
to minimise damage
. I reckon he doesn’t want her to
run and
win
it
.”

“Why not?”

“Because like we were saying at the conference the other week, she’s been over-exposed and there’s not enough opposition. So he reckons it’s best if he rests her for a while.
You could tell the crowds are starting to
become almost hostile to
wards
her because she’s too successful.
”

“Could be he’s right,” Martha said, tipping the
powder
into a steel bowl and lighting Carlo’s old spirit stove.
“We’re not entering?” she asked.

“No, none of them are ready for the Hunter Class. Two might be in a few months’ time and we can think of putting them in for the Kentucky Open. Two more might be ready for the Hacker Class as well. But there’s no point in running them just for the sake of it. Let’s wait till they’ve got a realistic chance.
”

“But
we’re
going, right?” Martha asked anxiously.

“Oh yes! We’ve got to be seen
and do some networking
! Peter’s coming too so we’ll get the red carpet treatment, he and the
Prince
go back years.”

Martha put her bowl down and smiled lasciviously. “I hear the
Prince
has got some of the best slave handling facilities anywhere in the world. Do you think we could maybe get to play a bit?”

“In my experience he’s generous to a fault. He’s got so many slaves he’s quite happy to have his guests enjoy them to the full.”

“Mmm. I’ve seen pics of some his decorated ones. They look yummy!”

The
Prince
’s
plans were coming together nicely. The street circuit through the city of Bakhtar was all marked out and barriers to keep the crowds back
had been put
in place.
The hotels were fully booked and t
here were no fewer than
forty
entries for the Hunter Class which was the Blue Riband event and the Novices’ and Hackers’
lists
were full too. All that remained was to
sort out the more decorative elements of the occasion and this was where he
felt most at his ease
.
He felt he could begin to relax and enjoy the spectacle he was creating now that the hard work of administration was mainly behind him.

The circuit was going to be half a mile
in circumference
and the Hunters would race it
six
times. The Novices would do
two
laps and the Hackers
four
. He and Selim had selected the streets down by the harbour to cordon off, they were fairly level and quite broad, which would help with overtaking and the twists and turns were not too severe, allowing for fast cornering while providing an interesting and challenging track. It also meant that there would be a cool breeze off the sea. No one wanted to see a pony succumb to heatstroke, there was precious little entertainment in that and quite a few of the entries were privately owned and trained
,
so
no one quite knew to what standard they had been
prepared
.
Part of the course went through the old town and it was there that the ponies would be running and cornering on cobbles, but the fast straights were tarmac
because
they ran behind the new docks area.

There were miles of bunting strung from the lamp posts but the
Prince
had an idea that would add immeasurably to the gaiety of the scene. And he was organising a parade to start the afternoon’s racing off.

He and Selim were in the gardens watching
some of
the squad girls who had been shippe
d down fro
m
the fort up-
country,
where the arena
slaves were housed
. They were hitched, two abreast to a line of traps and were high stepping towards the men at a pace
which was just slower
than a trot – more of a fast walk. The target the
Prince
was aiming for was an absolute uniformity of thighs parallel to ground at the top of each pace. And each pony had been trained to lift her left foot the instant the right came down
and vice versa,
so that
she should never have
two feet on the ground. The result was a bouncy progress that shook every girl’
s breasts
, buttocks
and thighs very prettily. They also dripped silver from more or less anywhere it could be fixed to a girl’s body.

Their feet were in dainty,
silver,
kitten heeled shoes which were steel shod at the front to make them sound like real ponies on the cobbles and tarmac of the streets.
Instead of the workaday crupper with its dildo, plug and tail, they had short skirts of silver metal strips that were long enough to cover their cunts – just. But the strips shortened quickly so as not to cover the thighs and were
made
very short over the hips, lengthening again over the buttocks until the longest strips hung down the buttock cleavage. With the girls’ exaggerated gaits the metal shook and
glittered
in the sun. Specially for the occasion they had had their navels pierced and each girl bore a sapphire in a silver setting in the pit. The top of the piercing was worked into a silver
riding whip which decorated her stomach above the navel. The breasts were all bound at the roots to keep them set high and thrusting, an unobtrusive length of transparent plastic cable tie had been used for this. The
Prince
wanted the beholder’s eye drawn to the nipples and the forward curves of the breasts. Each nipple had been pierced – again specially
-
as no arena slave sported even so much as a pierced ear normally, she wanted nothing that could give an
opponent
a hold or an advantage – and thick silver rings had been threaded through the holes. The rings were far bigger than usual and supported sets of silver bells
mounted at their bottoms. With the breasts bound, the bells hung well clear of the body and tinkled constantly as the girls trotted.
Around the upper curve of each
breast, set back from the areola,
an upright tiara of silver had been attached so that each girl bore two displays of silver standing up from her breasts in just the same way as a tiara would stand up from her forehead. The displays, consisting of a fan shape o
f silver struts, joined by lace-
like filigree work, stretched up almost to each girl’s chin level.
At first glance it looked flimsy but t
here w
as no risk of any mishap
. They were attached by pins driven
firmly
into the soft breast flesh and while they might shake and follow the movement of the breast prettily they would not come adrift during the parade, this had been thoroughly tested up at the
fort
. The girls’ high posture collars
and blinkers
were of silver
too and a silver tiara stood in the traditional place on each girl’s forehead, surmounted by plumes in the purple of Bakhtar.
Unusually their hair had been left loose and the decorative way it blew and tossed around their
sliver-bridled
heads provided a fitting backdrop for the richness of their harness.

The final touch to the webs of metal around the girls was provided by rings set through the nasal septum on each girl. From these two chains ran in deep loops back to her pierced ears, and from these more bells hung. The
Prince
had emptied his stable of blondes
,
a breed he had a fondness for,
and they made a fine display as they trotted towards him drawing behind them the traps that would hold the
more prestigious
visiting owners.

But that wasn’t the only visual treat the
Prince
was planning.
Once the parade
ha
d passed him and he declared hi
mself satisfied, he went into the palace
and was met
in one of the everyday reception rooms
by no fewer than forty four girls freshly returned from the Village of the Women. The village was
up in the mountains beyond the arena and was
where the female elders of Bakhtar dealt with any unruly or disobedient younger women. They
meted
out punishments for all sorts of domestic offences and also
inscri
bed
the intricate tattoos that were
the
trademark of Bakhtar slaves.

The
Prince
, having been educated in England, had been
an Anglophile
for years
–
even more so
now that Clive Mostyn led the country – and some years previously he had managed to get a
coat
o
f arms designed for
his somewhat piratical
dynasty
.
And no
w, for the first running of the Bakhtar Open these girls were to be the standard bearers. Except that they weren’t going to
bear
the Bakhtar standard
s
,
they were going to
be
the standards
. A
ll the girls were Bakhtari
, with honey coloured skins and dark hair – another reason why the parade ponies were blondes. Their fronts – from deltas to
collar bones
were tatto
oed with the shield of Bakhtar which was quartered with images of a sailing ship, a scimitar, an ankh and a lamp. T
wo lions rampant
facing a castle crowned
the shield and
the animals were
emblazoned across each breast
with the castle between them
. He knew it had taken the women days of work on each girl and they had told him that it
had been
quite noisy at times. But it had been well worth it. The girls themselves stood proudly with their hands behind their backs and their legs apart as he walked slowly down the line, trying to detec
t any faults or discrepancies but t
he purples and reds and whites were bright, vibrant and accurate.
How fortunate it had been that the heralds had designed the shield with a scalloped bottom to it so that it
ran down between the
girls’
hips, occupying
nearly
the whole of the delta with its rich red background and gold curlicues and foliage at its edges.
The gold actually dipped onto the tops of the labia, so comp
letely did the design cover the fronts of the torsos
.
He thought that most of them would fetch a handsome price after the
race, they would have
value
as souvenirs
after all.