Last Slave Standing (4 page)

Once she was between the shafts of a trap, Brian took each guest on a short loop of tarmac track that ran out from the yard then turned back towards the house, then circled the stadium and returned. By the end of her tenth circuit, Legs’ backside and back were covered by a dense network of pink welts and she was foaming and dribbling helplessly around her bit, which ran through her tongue ring, making it impossible for her to close her mouth.

Normally that would have been the end of the tour, apart from a quick demonstration of how a slave could be mounted on whatever instrument of correction happened to be set out in the yard.

However, Purdy was still patiently awaiting punishment for her flirtatiousness earlier. Raika had put her in the breast stocks and she had been there ever since.

“Flirting with a master is strictly forbidden,” Brian explained. “She knew quite well what she was letting herself in for but they just can’t help themselves sometimes. In fact she’s fairly lucky, we have several sets of breast stocks, some with very constricting holes, some lined with studs. This one’s quite straightforward it just holds her steady.”

The group of tourists stood gathered around, looking at Purdy who stood stoically with her wrists clipped to the back of her collar, her tits trapped in the wooden holes of the stocks and held immovable by nipple clamps chained together.

Carlo was bringing the other slaves back at the end of their day and when Brian explained Purdy’s offence he laughed and suggested a few refinements that would crown the tourists’ day.

Anne Marie appeared with Ox and Trouble, they had been absent all day and sported traces of whole body whipping to an extent that had everyone whistling in amazement.

“They are whip fodder, these two. In an arena show they must take three days of this, so sometimes we hang them out from a branch of a tree by the first hole of the golf course and the Lodge members warm up by flogging them. They are tough girls these!”

They were tongue leashed and tied to the wall of the stables along with their companions who had been working out in the stadium under the control of the grooms. They presented a fine array of docile femininity as they stood in a line facing the stable wall, their tongue leads looping to steel rings, their hips tilting prettily from time to time as they shifted their weight from one leg to the other, their backs and buttocks almost all heavily striped.

Brian went into the tack room and returned with fresh nipple clamps, without any preamble he removed the ones that Purdy had been wearing for so long and immediately she began to hop from foot to foot as circulation returned to the tormented nubs. Then he put more strongly sprung, toothed clamps on instead. Purdy let out a throaty groan at this new pain as the first clamp sank into her left nipple, and bent her knees, trying to shrink her tits back through the holes. But Brian ignored her and instead reached into her mouth to get her tongue, then he threaded the second clamp and its chain through the tongue ring, looped it through again and then he pulled it tight. Purdy let out an incoherent wail and bent her head forwards as far as she could to relieve the strain on her sorely stretched nipple, which was inevitably pulled up towards her mouth. Finally he clamped her right nipple with the chain pulled fully taut and invited the guests to inspect his handiwork. Purdy’s breath was rasping in her throat by then as they filed by, fascinated by the way her breasts folded upwards as the nipples dragged them and they compared fond memories of what that long pink tongue could accomplish with its heavy ring.

“That should hold her steady for her beating, she won’t be in a hurry to wriggle too much, that’s for sure!”

Carlo himself agreed to deliver the punishment and the guests were treated to the sight of the legendary trainer disciplining one of his slaves. He chose a heavy length of braided leather, made supple and soft by long use and laid on forty lashes with it. His target remained perfectly still throughout, her back bent and curved to maximise the surface and its vulnerability. As Brian watched his Purdy mark up as the steady rhythm of the strokes continued relentlessly and the meaty smacks reverberated around the yard and her yelps and groans became deeper and more and more impassioned, he decided that he would visit her stall later on.

While the guests said their farewells and thanks, Carlo announced that tonight would be what was known as an “Open stalls night”.

“We are going into a show in two weeks’ time. No sex from now on so it’s traditional that tonight they can go into other stalls and we give them some toys to play with. From then on it’s work until the show at the Salazar arena and I hope you will support us, my friends!” Carlo finished with a show of warmth that was unusual for him on a tour day.

“He’s booking the whole stable?” Brian asked in amazement. The negotiations between Alberto Salazar and John Carpenter had been going on for some time but he had heard nothing for a few days.

“Yes, John rang as I was bringing Rose and Blondie back,” Carlo said, his face nearly splitting from his broad grin. “We’re all going! You, me, Blondie, Jet, Rose, the whole lot of us!”

Brian’s mind reeled at the sums of money that must have been involved and he was still in a bit of a daze as he waved goodbye to the tourist bus and turned to unclip Purdy’s nipples. “Oh don’t make such a fuss,” he scolded her happily as she whimpered.

An hour later, when the evening feed had been completed and the slaves, contrary to normal practice were being set free after their grooming, the phone rang in Patti’s office, just off the main stable. She came to find Brian and Carlo who were already laying plans for the run up to the show.

“Mr Carpenter needs you at the house,” she said.

Carlo checked his watch. “We’ll be there for our supper in a few minutes anyway.”

“He said you needed to come now,” Patti insisted.

Chapter 3

The car park at the front of The Lodge was normally a place where anyone would be embarrassed to park anything less than a supercar, so the ancient horsebox looked terribly out of place, even though it was towed by a Range Rover. It was Sir John Fitzgerald’s Range Rover and as always when he saw Sir John, Brian was afflicted by tides of unwelcome memories. In his previous life he had worked for HM Customs and Excise and he had been about to arrest Sir John, using information supplied by Ayesha when she had vanished – only to reappear as a slave in the Bakhtar arena when Brian himself had been there, having abandoned his career and instead been desperate to achieve the position he now occupied. He had known that Sir John was a member of The Lodge but whenever he saw him he recalled how badly Ayesha had treated him, his own involvement with that episode and felt uncomfortable. However, Sir John was one of a group of members that Brian disapproved of; he hung out with Josh Cordell and was under almost constant threat of expulsion for excessive cruelty. Now though, he stood smoking a cigar and chatting happily with John Carpenter, owner of The Lodge and co-owner of CSL.

“Ah! Carlo!” John hailed them as they approached. “Sir John says he’s got something we might want in his horsebox. Something we might want a lot!”

“Open her up and take a look, Carlo,” Sir John said, waving the cigar expansively.

Carlo shrugged and he and Brian went round to the back of the box, knocked off the catches and carefully lowered the back, not at all sure what to expect. At first they thought Sir John was playing a joke of some kind, it looked completely empty but as their eyes accustomed themselves to the gloom at the back of the box, they saw a woman’s buttocks in amongst the straw. Carlo jumped up and walked in then bent over the inert form and Brian saw him reach down and turn her over.

He gave a bark of surprised laughter. “Brian! Get a look at this!” he called.

Brian climbed in and joined his boss, standing over a female form that was more welt than flesh; more bruise than skin and whose ribs stood out far more than was healthy. Her greasy black hair lay thickly over her face but as he reached down, his heart thumping, he already knew who it was.

“Ayesha!” Carlo breathed, squatting beside the woman. She had carved a meteoric path across the arena skies and then disappeared utterly overnight.

“The prince of Bakhtar’s trainer won her off him in a bet and then he sold her to me when he got bored with her. I played with her until I’d made her pay in full for what she did to me and now I’m bored with her too, so I thought I’d do a deal with CSL.”

The men were grouped around Ayesha as she stood shakily with her hands tied roughly behind her with coarse rope at the rear of the horsebox, a glass of cold water had been poured over her to revive her. Brian could see she was barely able to keep her feet under her, there were dark shadows under her listless eyes and she was clearly undernourished. The gleaming, thick swathe of glossy black hair that had been her trademark in the arenas now hung lifeless and lank onto her shoulders.

If she recognised him, she made no sign.

“You train her and field her as you think best, we’ll split her winnings fifty-fifty. I still own her and have …..well let’s call them visiting rights, shall we?”

Brian could feel Carlo’s displeasure at what had been done to such a fine specimen as Ayesha. It outraged the pride the Spaniard took in his slaves.

“Sounds good to me,” John Carpenter put in.

“No!” Carlo’s voice was gruff and unnecessarily loud. “Forty per cent to you, sixty to CSL and no one has visiting rights in my stable. You want to play with her? You book her and pay like anyone else.”

“Carlo, this is Ayesha we’re talking about!” John whispered urgently. “For Chrissake, she was almost as good as Blondie!”

Carlo held out a hand to silence him. “You could have got a fortune for her at auction, even in this state. You brought her here because you want to see her fighting out of the CSL stable. Those are my terms.”

Sir John appeared to mull this over. “You’re right. I do want her here, I even had her tattoos from the Bakhtar stable lasered off for your brand to go on. Okay, forty per cent of prize money and I’ll just keep an eye on her like any of the other members who might take a stroll round to watch the sluts training.”

He held out his hand and the two men shook. Then Sir John closed up the horsebox and drove off to park up.

“I’ve seen you sail close to the wind before, Carlo,” John Carpenter sighed, “but I really thought you were going to let her slip through our hands! Do you realise what this means? We’ve got the two top performers on the circuit! Apart from Snake of course,” he corrected himself.

Carlo grinned. “The stable of the stars, eh? Bring her to the yard Brian, we’ve got work to do.”

Brian bent to pick Ayesha up in a fireman’s lift.

“Wha’ you doin’ere?” she managed to whisper in a slur between swollen and cracked lips as he marched away.

“We’ll try and talk later,” he told her, adding mentally that she might as well do her talking while she still could.

Sir John Fitzgerald uncoupled the battered horsebox and pushed it to one side of the car park, out of people’s way and then took out his mobile.

“Conor?” he asked once he heard the call accepted. “She’s in place. Suarez wouldn’t give me any rights though, but it doesn’t matter, I can still get to the groom. Yeah, I’ll leave it a week or so. They’ve got their work cut out getting the bitch back into some sort of shape, so they’ll be tied up with that for a bit.”

To start with they put her in the CSL horsebox, parked just inside the training stadium’s doors. It was in a different league to the one she had arrived in and was as comfortable as any stall. She was deeply asleep before Brian had finished lowering her onto the straw. She sprawled untidily, her legs wide apart.

“She’s been doing a lot of entertaining by the looks of things,” Carlo said and Brian could also see where her entire groin area was crusted with sperm, her pubes had not been trimmed and they were hard with the stuff, her thighs were caked almost to the knees and Brian unconsciously wiped his shoulder.

“I’m not surprised,” he said and told Carlo of Ayesha’s treacherous past.

“That Peter Lang, he did a good job on her then,” Carlo laughed when he had finished.

They chained her collar to a ring and left her to sleep.

“We’ll sort out a proper diet for her with Patti tomorrow and she can just have gentle exercise for a week or two. No hiring out – whoever wants her. She’ll be well enough to take branding and ringing before we leave for Salazar’s show but she won’t be able to go into training until after that,” Carlo spoke thoughtfully as the two men strolled back towards the stables.

“But why did he want her to come here? She’s worth far more than he’ll get for her with us – however much her share of the hiring fee and the prize money is,” Brian was nagged by that one question.

Carlo shrugged. “Here he can keep an eye on her and dine out on stories about what he did to her before he stabled her with us. All I know for sure is that we’ve got a fine slave to train and I can’t wait to get her started! Think what it’ll be like Brian! Ayesha sparring with Blondie!”

Brian smiled at his enthusiasm – it was quite a thought though.

Under the strip lighting and with the heating keeping out the early spring chill, the stables were a warm hive of activity. As they entered, Patti looked up from her desk in her office on the left. She was the only woman in the place with any clothes on and was working on her diet sheets for the following day and had just finished ringing Madame Stalevsky up at the big house to arrange for Housegirls to stand in for those CSL slaves who had been booked into the dungeons. From now until after the show they were strictly off limits.

Carlo went and half sat on the desk, swinging one leg and smiling down at Patti.

The copper-haired head groom stared back up at him, biting her lower lip in excited expectation. He reached down and scooped a handful of pale skinned breast out of her knotted blouse and began kneading it with his strong fingers, fetching little gasps from her at a particularly harsh nipple twist or an especially prolonged squeeze of the meat itself. He began to tell her about Ayesha and Brian’s attention wandered.

Leaving them to it he went over to the stalls and peered in at Blondie’s. The tall blonde was in a sandwich formed by the ‘whip twins’ as he and Carlo called them; the almost inseparable Ox and Trouble.

Ox was on her back and working her tongue hard between Blondie’s spread thighs as she knelt over her face. In her turn she had her head tilted back and was lapping noisily at Trouble’s cunt as the German girl stood with legs straddled. All three had their hands still restrained and were extracting every ounce of pleasure they could from such contact as they were allowed. Helga, the chubby brunette groom was helping by walking around the trio and flicking at them with a small, spiteful little whip, making each slave wince and then gasp in pleasure as it stung them on the breasts or thighs.

In the next stall, Cherry was kneeling with her arse in the air and licking at Jet’s cunt as the graceful black slave reclined on her straw. Next along was El Tigre, standing alone in her stall she was energetically wanking by tugging on a chain one of the grooms had run down from her collar, through her legs and back up to her hands. She had pulled it so deep that the steel had all but disappeared up between the labia. She was approaching her climax and whimpering as it neared while she sawed the chain back and forth against her clitoris. Brian took pity on her and stepped in. Just a finger placed hard on the greasy nub as it swelled out between the links of the steel was enough to propel her into leg trembling ecstasy and she fell against him in the aftermath. He stroked her hair for a second but moved on when Anne Marie came in with a monster of a strap-on.

“Come on Tigre,” the French girl lilted, hooking a finger through Tigre’s tongue ring. “Come and fuck Rose for me while I have you buggered by Blackie. Then I whip all three of you. Good, non?”

Purdy was sitting with her back against the rear wall of her stall. Her legs were spread wide and from between her engorged labia the base of a thick vibrator protruded, a muffled buzzing emanated from inside her. One of the grooms, probably Raika to judge by the fact that Brian could hear her in the next stall encouraging Legs towards orgasm by fucking her with some implement or other, had brought her off and then left her to savour the continuing vibrations until they could come back and bring her off again.

Brian walked over and looked down at her large, dark eyes, still heavy lidded from orgasm. She pulled her shoulders back and offered her breasts to her master, despite the fact that her nipples were still showing signs of their earlier maltreatment. He squatted down in front of her and she squirmed with excited urgency.

“You’ve had a busy day, haven’t you, girl? And you were frisky to start with.”

He reached out towards her breast and watched her breath catch as she waited for further nipple pain. He supplied it by pulling and twisting sharply, making her cry out breathlessly. With his other hand he moved the vibrator inside her and watched her eyes close in ecstasy. For a few more moments he continued to work her, listening to her breathing getting deeper, watching her breasts heave and finally hearing her cunt begin to squelch hungrily again. His erection became uncomfortable but he couldn’t decide which passage he wanted to finish in. Her mouth was superb and after the workout her cunt had had that day, that would be as dripping and as tight as only a girl’s with her training could be. Or there was always the rectum and leave the vibrator in the cunt…….

He let go of the vibrator and pulled her forwards by both nipples, she moved eagerly and once she was clear of the back wall, he pushed her head down and away from him. She knew what he required and buried her head in her straw while she stuck her bottom up into the air. Brian knelt behind her and fumbled his erect cock free of his trousers, the sight of Purdy’s striped buttocks with the vibrator still poking out from the vulva nestling just below them, made him suddenly desperate to feel her soft interior around his shaft. Hurriedly he wiped his fingers over the clitoris and gathered enough of her thick juices to spread over the tight brown crater of her anus. He pointed the broad, shiny dome of his helm at Purdy’s tightest entrance and drove in. For a moment she resisted him and he heard her gasp as she felt him demand admittance but then with well-practised ease her sphincters relaxed and allowed the unnatural intrusion. Brian watched with a pleasure that never lessened, however many times he used the slaves in this fashion, the way the anus stretched around the thick invader as he slowly drove in for the first stroke. He could feel how the vibrator was narrowing her channel and he reached around and down to begin thrusting with that too. Inside her he could feel the waves of tightness travel up and down as he pushed and withdrew the buzzing plastic phallus. Below him Purdy began a strange keening noise as she was rammed towards multiple peaks of sensual overload. From the next stall he dimly registered Legs giving her characteristic moans as Raika finally got her to orgasm. He achieved full penetration and stayed there, just teasing himself by diddling her with the vibrator. She bucked and squirmed under him as she began another climax. He left the vibrator deep inside her and instead withdrew himself until only his helm was still inside. She screamed and threw her head back. Brian grasped her imprisoned wrists and used them to haul her up and to brace himself against, then he reached round again and rubbed mercilessly hard at her clitoris. Only then did he begin to thrust and withdraw with a steadily increasing tempo. Each slam of his pelvis against her bottom was answered by an incoherent cry until finally he reached his release and collapsed forwards and lay on top of her twitching body as she recovered from her multiple orgasm.

He raised his head when he heard the sounds of heels clicking on the floor and throaty female pleas for mercy. Outside, Carlo was dragging Patti towards the door of the dungeon over to his left. The heels of her black suede thigh boots scraped and clicked as she tried to hold back and not let herself be led there.