Last Slave Standing (13 page)

Leaving her to whoever wanted her next he joined Juan who was applying the final lashes to a black-haired slave who could hardly summon up the energy to retaliate with her own whip. As Brian approached, Juan swung a last lash in behind her knees and she toppled backwards with a despairing scream. Juan immediately dropped to his knees between her legs but when he saw Brian he flipped her onto her face, hauled her backside up and slammed himself into her that way. She yelled at the violence of the penetration with the result that, as he dropped to his knees in front of her face, Brian was able to push his, still nearly steel hard shaft straight into her mouth. Her protests died into a gurgle as she was taken at either end, but ever mindful of the cameras, Brian lifted her face off him after a few moments and let her lick up and down the shaft while she rocked backwards and forwards under the force of Juan’s thrusts. He was about to ram her mouth back over his helm and see if he could muster another ejaculation when he saw a blonde, pushed down onto her face as the guard who had been taking her pulled free and spurted his remaining load onto her arse and back then ran off to seek out other prey. Bruised, dusty, her pale skin whipped to spreading patches of raw pink and running with sperm, she staggered up, grabbed a wooden staff and looked round for another man to fight, snarling defiance.

Wrenching himself clear of Juan’s fuck, Brian responded to her challenge and leapt up. She saw him coming and swung the staff at his head. He ducked and rolled as he came forwards, taking her round the waist and bringing her down onto her back on top of him. She wriggled and bit and fought like a wildcat, even as Brian had both her breasts in his hands and his fingers were buried deep in the flesh. He loved the way her body moved against his, he knew she was reviving pains in every welt as she struggled but still she persisted until, laughing with wild joy, he threw her onto her back and got his pelvis between her thrashing thighs. For a split second he paused at her vaginal entrance and their eyes met. She stared up at him unafraid and defiant to the last and then he plunged into her and she couldn’t help the inevitable softening of her expression as she felt herself taken by yet another master and was helpless to prevent it. He began to thrust fully into her, slamming the studded ring against her entrance and fetching moans of slavish delight from her as she was thrown headlong back up to the strange regions where whipped and fucked slavegirls shriek their orgasms.

She babbled in French as she came, pushing her breasts up to him so he could bite and suck at her nipples, calling him a bastard one second and then whispering “Oui! Oui!” against his neck the next, as he recklessly plundered her until a second ejaculation ripped through him and left him gasping on top of her.

After a few seconds he got to his feet and stood over her as she sprawled on the sand, her legs wide flung, her arms likewise and his, and other men’s spunk oozing out of her, her chest heaved in the wake of her orgasm but even as he turned away to look for more fun, she rolled over, climbed to her feet and threw herself onto another man, grabbing him round the neck from behind and trying to drag him away from fucking one of her team mates. The man snarled and reached behind to pull her shrieking over his shoulder and onto the other girl. But even then the blonde rolled over and flew back into the attack. Another of the Salazar guards laughed and swept her up in passing, before slamming her down onto her back again and knocking the wind from her. But even then she managed a few feeble kicks as her latest conqueror settled himself down between her thighs.

Brian made a mental note that if ever she came up for auction, she had the fire that he and Carlo were always looking for. She would need tongue ringing of course, she was far too vocal, but that could easily be arranged.

But for the moment there was a big-titted brunette just climbing back to her feet after taking two up, she was looking around for a whip and Brian threw her his. Instinctively she raised her hands to catch it and Brian threw himself at her as she did. He grabbed her round the waist and she screamed as she went down under him and he found himself laughing with delight as he mounted the soft, squirming body, its breasts squashing under his hands, the shapely thighs parting reluctantly but inevitably. And then he was inside her. His erection hardened up immediately when she squealed as she felt the studded cock ring hit her. He gave her two more thrusts to soften her up then came out and rolled her over, aiming his glistening shaft down at the little crater of her anus, nestling between her plump and well-flogged buttocks. A camera caught her agonised expression as he drove in, her own lubrication making his progress into her narrow channel steady and smooth. Then his cock ring was up against her entrance and he began to swivel his hips as he thrust and thrust again. Up on one of the giant screens he watched her face screw up with pain and then her eyes widen slowly as she succumbed helplessly to pleasure and she began to push back against him, begging him to pile on the pain. He laughed again and smacked her bottom. He knew it would take him a long time to achieve another ejaculation, so he set about enjoying every long leisurely thrust and grind. He would probably finish in her mouth, he thought. But then again he might finish in another slave’s mouth. He had all afternoon.

Chapter 11

It had been a long day and the sun had nearly set before the last slave had been played with until she could no longer get up to take another pounding. As usual, Blondie had been one of the last go down and stay down but on this occasion when the intervals between the slaves getting back to their feet had become longer and longer and the tense silence from the crowd more and more noticeable as they waited to see if another one could take any more, it had been Trouble who had risen from the piles of inert, naked girlflesh. She had staggered drunkenly to her feet, and searched for a whip while the Ukrainian guards had decided the order in which they would take her. It was impossible for a man not to be priapic, no matter how often he had come, when faced with such enjoyable carnage. Eventually Trouble had found a studded whip and faced the first guard of the many who were queuing up to take her. She even managed a few clumsy swings as the man approached, but her sweat and sperm-matted hair got in her eyes and exhaustion had drained her. The crowd applauded however and cheered as the man snaked in a lash that wrapped her hips and tore into her already lacerated buttocks. She twisted and screamed but didn’t go down. The applause increased. He lashed her again, this time across the fronts of her thighs, the end of the whip smacking meatily into her lower buttocks. She staggered but made stupid by exhaustion and her inborn stubbornness she refused to go down. She couldn’t even raise her arms to shield herself and took a further lash to her breasts, and where the tip of the whip bit at her ribs, the skin split. She looked down at it and smiled before dropping to her knees. Even then she went no further and the man took his pleasure in her mouth while the applause continued to ring out and then he handed her over to the next man.

Singly and in groups the men used her, never letting her fall. Brian watched approvingly, for a lesbian Trouble could orgasm with impressive ease on the end of a cock, whether it was up her backside, in her cunt or down her throat. On several occasions they were in all three simultaneously. But at last it was over. The last man pulled clear of her by-now sperm-gleaming body as it knelt on all fours in front of him and to a rising chorus of cheers from the crowd, Trouble slowly tipped onto her side and lay still.

It was fully dark by the time Carlo and Brian stepped out to climb aboard the carriage that Alberto Salazar had sent for them. The air was still warm and the prospect of a gentle trot in a carriage across to the arena village and a drink or two to wind down, was a pleasant one. Alberto could not have underlined his appreciation of the CSL stable’s help in winning any more than by sending his beloved matching twins to pull their carriage and the two men relaxed to the soft rumbling of the wheels and the rhythmic hiss and snap of the whipcord across the graceful backs as the ponies trotted smoothly. The carriage was immediately besieged by an admiring crowd when it drew to a halt outside one of the more expensive hotels. But the driver managed to part the throng enough to drive through and park up to await their return and the two men made their way to the bar.

There was a ripple of appreciation as they entered and some applause. But the excesses of the day had tired people out and apart from a steady trickle of autograph hunters – mostly men wanting their subs to have Carlo’s name signed on their breasts or buttocks – they were allowed to drink in peace.

The slaves were allowed to sleep in the following morning and Brian and Amelia decided to let Patti, Helga and Anne Marie do the donkey work. They were eager to see what Alberto had cooked up to part the punters from their money as they began to make their way home. Once again the immaculately turned out carriage was sent for and Amelia was bouncing with excitement as the driver whipped up the matching pair and the carriage rumbled back towards the arena. It was her first chance to ride in one of the larger ‘two in hand’ carriages that Alberto favoured and she adored the sight of two ponies being flogged simultaneously.

The sound of fairground music drifted across the flat grassland as they approached the bulk of the arena and beside the pens, on the concrete concourse a bizarre fair was taking place.

The brightly coloured awnings over the stands and rides flapped and rippled a little in the light breeze and competed gaudily with garish African and Oriental robes.

Brian had seen some of the ‘rides’ under the tarpaulin but had not really got a true picture of how ingeniously and erotically cruel they were. The first thing that caught their eye was the big wheel.

It wasn’t a full size one but then it didn’t need to be. Only five people rode this one and they were tied to its circumference, face outwards. Each of the naked slaves displayed had her labia and nipples gripped by big clover leaf clamps and from each one hung a chain ending in a ring, in addition each girl had a number scrawled across her stomach.

After queueing for a while, Brian handed over some money and they were allocated Number Five and handed several heavy conical weights with S shaped hooks on the top.

The object of the exercise was extremely simple. When a hooter sounded the wheel began to turn and, by leaning over the low railing which surrounded the contraption, five sets of punters tried to hang as many weights as they could on their allocated slave.

The wheel made a very entertaining spectacle while people waited their turn. As the slaves descended the part of the rotation which had them feet first whatever weights they carried pulled downwards. As the rotation began to swing them towards the bottom of the circle, the chains hung away from their bodies and this was a good time to add more weights as the loops hung clear. Then while the bodies were carried through the bottom part of the rotation the chains dragged their weights along the ground to add a little extra touch to the discomfort. It hadn’t been thought necessary to gag the slaves and so the blare of music was rivalled by the outraged shrieks and moans. But then they started on the upwards part of the rotation - feet first. The noise was loudest here as the weights again swung outwards. As Amelia observed, the bigger breasted girls got a much closer look at their nipples than they would have wanted during this stage. At the top of the circle, with the slaves stretched on their backs, the weights hung in a variety of directions and did some interesting things to the breasts in particular.

The competing punters jostled good naturedly at either side of the wheel, where the slaves descended or rose. Between them Brian and Amelia managed to increase Number Five’s torment by a total of seven weights by the time the ride ended, unfortunately for them someone hung eight on Number Three and walked off with a particularly uncomfortable looking butt plug as a prize. To cheer Amelia up they tried the spider.

This was closely based on a familiar fairground ride, except that where the normal ride would have had eight chairs at the ends of the arms there were just long, rectangular platforms on which eight luckless slaves were tied, some face down, some face up. The entrance price bought them the use of a whip and a place to stand inside the enclosure. As the machine came to life and began to spin, its multiple arms making the platforms describe complicated patterns around the circular enclosure, each platform was brought into their reach for a few seconds. Amelia had to be alert to deliver a few good smacks before the platform was whisked away and then she had to look for the next one coming. She had to have three goes on the trot, she was so excited.

A row of slaves tied down on their backs with tight straps constricting the breasts and making them stand up invitingly, formed a very enjoyable coconut shy. Each nipple was encased in a metal coil and on top of the coil was a cup which held a solid wooden ball. All the punters had to do was shoot, using a paint ball gun, to knock the balls off. The quivering, wobbling breasts were covered in an artist’s palette of different coloured starbursts from the guns, as was the black cloth which surrounded them. The girls’ heads had been chained down by the backs of their collars in order to stop them craning their heads up and getting in the way.

However, that still didn’t make hitting the targets easy, as Brian discovered. The girls were some distance away and insisted on breathing, and not at normal steady rates either. They panted and started at nearby shots and screams, their chests heaved and they strained at their bonds, thus contributing to stray shots. To handicap the shooters further, and, Brian suspected, to lessen the possibility of having to part with any prizes, once they had failed to knock off any balls with four shots, they discovered that at the back of the stall the same slaves were earning their keep with the other end of their bodies. Their legs had been raised, parted and shackled at the ankles, for a very reasonable price they were available to fuck and cunt whip if so desired. It was no wonder they provided such elusive targets at the other end. Brian forked out enough for Amelia to flog one cunt with enticingly well developed inner lips and then he fucked it. Amelia giggled as the slave’s body bucked and writhed under the whip and then the pelvis ground passionately against Brian as he pistoned in and out of its cunt.

“I bet no one’s shot anything off that one’s tits!” she said as he pulled clear and wiped his cock on a welted thigh.

A little further on they found an enclosure where a single slave hung by her wrists from a gibbet, her body revolving slowly in the breeze as her wrists were fastened to a single ring. She was liberally sprinkled with bits of paper held to her flesh by steel pins piercing pinches of skin.

“Come on now, ladies and gentlemen!” the man in charge was shouting. “A genuine test of skill! Each ticket carries a number from one to ten. You have six lashes with a driving whip, try to get as many tickets off the slave as you can, add up your score and win one of these lovely prizes!” He gestured to a table which was displaying a variety of whips, paddles, crops and some very substantial nipple and labia clamps with pronounced serrations to their jaws. Brian knew the minute he saw them that he had to have them. They would make Patti, Raika or any of the stable’s female staff squirm delightfully on the long winter evenings when he and Carlo would sit in the office and work on plans for the next show. He stepped forwards and the man clearly recognized him and began to try to refuse permission for him to partake saying it was intended as entertainment for amateurs only. But unfortunately for him, several of the crowd recognized Brian too and began to cheer him on; eager to witness an expert at work. Eventually the guard shrugged and gave in with good grace.

Brian hefted the whip he was handed, it was one of the long driving whips he was used to wielding in chariot races but this one had a heavier weight to its tip, designed to tear the ticket off the pin. He flicked and snapped it in the air a few times to get a feel for it and fetched some excited squeals from females in the audience. The hanging slave was fully hooded but the cheers from the crowd must have penetrated the padding at the ears and Brian saw her head come up and move around as she tried to guess where the next lash would land. Even above all the havoc wrought in the arena, he could see the tell tale pits and craters where keen amateurs had sought to relieve her of her tickets.

The clamps required a score of forty five, meaning he had to hit the top scoring tickets with no misses. Quickly he surveyed the body. Ten was the ticket pinned to her clitoral hood, nine was at her navel, eight and seven were cunningly pinned at two points down her buttock crease, nearly hidden by the pillows of flesh. Six was pinned to the side of her left breast and five was pinned to her right nipple. The crowd fell silent as the guard stepped forward and grabbed the slave by her hips.

“Round and round and round she goes!” he called and imparted a spin to the hanging body then stepped back. Brian knew that the knack was to land the weighted tip precisely on target, the lash would wrap her body twice over from where the line in the ground had been marked but only the tip snapping at the paper would dislodge it. Fortunately the guard was not vindictive and had not spun the slave as fast as he might have done, but even so Brian took a few seconds to pick his target; start easy he decided.

He shook out the lash, aimed, waited for the breasts to come around again and snapped out the lash.

The slave’s hooded head snapped back and her legs bicycled in the air, a stopple-muffled shriek escaped her as the lash thudded around her waist, wrapped itself lovingly about her, entwining her back and then the tip sank heavily into her right nipple.

A cheer went up as the white scrap fluttered to earth.

Brian waited a second more and then flicked out again, again he double wrapped her trunk but this time he struck when her body was at more of an angle to him and the left breast flattened as the weight slammed across it and dug into its side.

“Ole!” some wag in the crowd called out as the second ticket fluttered down.

Brian grinned. He was enjoying the challenge. Now it was time to concentrate on the buttocks and he settled himself again, judging the slowing spin and knowing he had to dig the tip right into the crack to dislodge the seven and eight tickets. He waited for the wriggling body to swing almost round to facing him and then drew back a little before letting fly. The lash wrapped the fronts of the spread thighs as they flailed in the air and the tip zipped around her hip and disappeared behind her. Despite the stopple in her mouth, a squeal so loud it made some of the audience jump escaped the slave as the tip bit deep into the crevice of her backside. For a fraction of a second nothing happened but then to wild applause a white scrap fluttered down once more. He repeated the stroke a little lower and again managed to penetrate right to her anus and take the ticket as well. He wiped a bead of sweat away from his brow and was only vaguely aware of the tense silence that surrounded the ring.

The slave’s navel came round twice as he sized it up and then stepped back again before throwing out a curving strike like casting for trout, the body was revolving away from him, now nearly inert, and the lash didn’t make contact until it had encircled her and reached her right hip, then it smacked in beautifully and the tip snapped at her navel just as the breath was forced from her and her stomach contracted as her knees were lifted. If Brian had let the lash touch her even a split second earlier she would have moved enough to spoil his aim. There was delighted applause and then everyone settled down to watch the final strike to her crotch. The delta at the tops of her thighs was scattered with heavy lines and pits where earlier ambitious but inept strikes had scored her. Brian tried to relax. The body was spinning only sluggishly by now, the legs hanging slackly, the ribs heaving. But the crotch was steady. Again he dealt a throw with the whip, deliberately giving her no time to react before the weight slammed into her groin. The ticket flew up into the air and the slave nearly brought her knees up to her chest as she reacted. There was wild applause led by the guard.

“To do it in sequence is superb! Let’s hear it for Brian Holden!” he cried. Brian waved and walked across to the table to claim his prize and was agreeably surprised to find that the clamps were not in any way cheap fairground gee gaws. They were solid and might even be silver, the springs on the jaws were strong and beside him Amelia shuddered as she watched his fingers strain to open them.

Eventually they left with a rather finely embossed leather paddle as well. It was all for fun as the guard pointed out, and it had been a superb display of expertise. As they left, the needles were being replaced and an assistant from the crowd was holding the slave steady and preventing her from kicking as the guard pierced her anew for another, but probably less punishing attempt on her. Getting the tip to snap home cleanly and accurately was a skill that only came from long practice.

They wandered happily on for a while, past a couple more big wheels, one of which was purely for the girls. Here the slaves were tied with faces in and presented backs and buttocks to the onlooker. As the wheel turned, long suffering submissives were given a chance to flog to their hearts’ content under their masters’ indulgent smiles as a never-ending conveyor belt of backs, buttocks and thighs went past. As the flagellators were only girls themselves armed with floggers, they were unlikely to inflict any further damage on the already scored flesh. Amelia, well used to disciplining slaves was not bothered with that attraction. Her attention had been caught by a Bouncy Castle.

Once they had paid they had to wait in a kind of lobby just inside the tent until the previous occupants’ time was up. The couples stumbled out flushed and happy, one leggy, tanned girl announced in a harsh Australian accent that although she had shagged for three days solid, “That was absolutely the best thing ever!”

Brian, Amelia and four other couples were ushered into a basic changing room where they stripped, then pulled aside a thick curtain.

“Oh my God!” Amelia squeaked and Brian had some sympathy. What met their gaze was stunning. A standard, thick, bouncy castle floor had been inflated and tied across it, arms and legs at full stretch, on their backs was a living carpet of girlflesh, two girls deep in places. Their heads were encased in hoods from the nose upwards to give an attractive anonymity, the mouths were kept wide open by ring gags, their bodies had clearly been oiled and Brian soon found that it was possible to almost sledge naked across the convex, curving mass of bodies, each one tied immovably to mountings set in the floor on which the inflatable castle rested. The walls were padded to prevent anyone from hurting themselves as they slid over the soft flesh. Thoughtfully the slaves’ legs had not been tied together and one could arrest a slide by hooking one’s fingers into a cunt as one skated past. Brian loved it and threw himself joyfully into bouncing up and down on the bodies, palpating the heaving breasts and smacking the beautifully flat stomachs with the crops provided. Pretty soon the girls in the group discovered that by squatting over the slaves’ mouths and alerting them by strikes from the crop and taps on their cheeks, the slaves could be made to understand that their tongues were required. Soon the small area was loud with moans of delight as they squatted over various mouths, seeking out the longest and most prehensile tongues.