Last Slave Standing (7 page)

Chapter 5

They had just finished a superb lunch of locally reared beef in the quiet of the dining room and were making the twins catch scraps in their mouths when Salazar, glancing out of the window, called their attention to something.

“I think the opposition has arrived,” he said.

Carlo and Brian looked out of the window to see a convoy of trucks lumbering past the house and heading for the barrack blocks and the arena.

The sight reminded Brian and Carlo of the real reason they were there and they made to rise from their places and take their leave.

“We will gather again this evening and you will meet our opposing owner and trainer,” Alberto assured them.

Their carriage’s wheels ground and scrubbed the hard earth as the driver wrenched the tired team hard round from the hitching rail and pointed them back along the straight road to their barracks. Then there was the familiar sawing motion of a two in hand carriage as its ponies strained up to speed before settling into a steady rhythm. Once more the driver urged them on and made liberal use of the corded driving whip while his passengers relaxed in the afterglow of a good meal.

Back at their own small barrack block they found the slaves were outside taking it easy in the sunshine while for once the grooms did all the work. A door in the wall on the right of the sleeping platform opened out onto a caged area where the slaves could lounge and relax. Inside, Patti and her crew were busy sorting out piles of tack, so that each slave had her own tailored harness ready for her if she was racing, her own corset if she was boxing and so on. Helga had been set to scrubbing out the showers which Patti felt were not clean enough. Amelia was busily polishing a steel butt plug and the studs on the inside of Jet’s harness, she blew an errant strand of hair out of her eyes as she saw Brian enter and grimaced at him before bending over her work again. Brian grinned back and he and Carlo went out into the caged area to check on the slaves.

The experienced ones were making the most of a rare chance to take things easy. Blondie sat in one corner, her eyes half closed in the warm sun, she opened them briefly when Carlo entered the enclosure, checked his mood was sunny as well and then she returned to her torpor. Jet lay with her head in Blondie’s lap, Cherry sat on Blondie’s other side, her thigh touching the blonde’s. Ox lay with her head in Trouble’s lap. Of the older hands, just one was prowling restlessly; Tigre. Brian could see she was eager to get started, one foot almost pawed at the earth and her nostrils flared as she caught the scent of leather from inside. He went over to her and slapped her flank then tweaked a nipple hard. She sighed in pleasure and leaned against him. Immediately, Purdy who had been leaning against Legs and idly licking one of her breasts, raised her head. Brian ignored her and put three fingers up inside the gypsy girl, stirring and clenching them for a little while until he could feel her juices begin to flow in earnest. Then he withdrew them.

“Won’t be long now, girl,” he told her. “You know you’ll get all you can take in a few days’ time.”

Tigre made a growl of frustration as Brian walked away and held out his hand for Purdy. Obediently her tongue came out and she started licking Tigre’s juices off them. Behind him Carlo was petting Blackie who was prowling nervously from end to end of the enclosure. The provenance she had come with stated that she had competed in three shows previously but neither he nor Brian believed that, however, they still felt that given time, they would have a decent enough all round performer.

“Hank must’ve taken Rose,” he said as he stroked her breasts and patted her backside.

At that moment a truck sped up from the direction of the home team barracks, its load platform was caged and wedged in a corner of the cage was Rose.

Hank jumped down and opened the cage for her to climb down and make her way over to the stable door. As she passed the enclosure everyone could see the devastation wrought on her back and buttocks but she carried herself proudly nevertheless. Hank came to lean against the mesh and talk to them through it.

“I let the guys play with her pretty good and she came through it fine. She’s a credit to you Carlo.”

Just then Anna Marie led her out from the stable into the enclosure and the men could see sperm caked on the insides of her thighs and round her chin. The high colour in her cheeks which gave her her nickname spread all the way down to her breasts, a clear sign she was excited. She held her head up proudly as Blackie came to nuzzle at her and lick her face clean of sperm. Purdy and Legs came forward too and knelt on either side of her so they could lick her thighs.

“Thanks for making such good use of her,” Carlo said. To return an arena slave clean of all traces of usage after punishment would have been insulting, it might suggest that she was not sufficiently attractive or obedient.

Hank waved and said he’d see them up at the house for dinner, then left them.

Late in the afternoon when the sun was beginning to set behind the mountains, Carlo and Brian took their small squad for a gentle run to help them sleep well before training got underway properly. They were allowed to run free and the two trainers followed behind in the jeep they had been given the use of. They kept to the roads as Alberto had warned them that some of the grass was damagingly sharp on naked flesh and also the ground was riddled with the holes of various burrowing animals.

The slaves returned breathless and flushed from the air that was beginning to chill with the onset of evening. Steam was billowing from the shower room and food was hot in the urns. Patti and the grooms were washing the day’s tiredness off as well but soon had their charges scrubbed and kneeling at their troughs.

Brian and Carlo went to change for dinner and when they came down it was to find the Salazar stable vets checking the CSL slaves over for any signs of illness. The severe women with close cropped hair were approaching their task with unbridled enthusiasm and Brian was amused by how much infection they seemed to think the common or garden vagina could contain. Each and every slave was finger fucked to orgasm before they were satisfied but left sample bottles to be filled in the morning.

“Ugh!” Amelia complained. “I hate getting samples!”

Brian patted her bottom and promised her he would see her later and that seemed to improve her mood. Carlo took Patti by the arm and took her to one side.

“Take Ox and Trouble over to the vets’ surgery in the arena later, with my compliments and leave them there for the night. Anything goes except whipping.”

Outside, their carriage was waiting for them and Brian was surprised to see the same two ponies still pulling it. Their welted hindquarters took yet more punishment as they laboured back to the house once more.

Once inside the chandelier-lit magnificence of Alberto’s house, they were taken to the library for pre-dinner drinks and met their opposing owner and trainer. Hank introduced a small dapper man as Gregor Lescoff and a tall, gaunt man as his trainer Oleg Smerskovitch, they hailed from the Ukraine and fought in scarlet and black colours. There was no rancour between the stables, win or lose, both made a fortune and it was only the slaves who were required to fight. Hank and Oleg had each brought one of their senior guards with them and once the eight men had dined and were sampling a fine old brandy and discussing the advantages and drawbacks of various whips for use as punishment and stimulation, Alberto finally revealed his treat for his guests.

The household slaves who had been cruelly kept at simmering point all afternoon were finally taken down from the alcoves and herded naked into the library where the men were taking their ease. There were two slaves for each man and they fought each other, clawing wildly and hair pulling as they tumbled across the thick carpet towards the men and the relief promised by the straining erections.

Brian remembered the evening for a long time afterwards, he had never seen women so sex crazed. The first one to struggle her way across to him, tousle haired and wild eyed, scrabbled at his trousers in pure desperation and plunged his cock into her mouth with more enthusiasm than even he was used to, while she masturbated frantically. Some considerable time later he shot his third load of the night into the back passage of a shapely brunette whose face was buried in the cunt of one of her colleagues who in her turn was splayed out on her back being buggered by the man beneath her while with her mouth she was licking out another girl who was kneeling in front of Carlo and sucking him.

Brian’s balls ached as they were emptied yet again but the orgasm was exquisite and he watched as the girl’s sphincter rippled as he pulled his gleaming shaft clear of her. Her plundered hole pouted sulkily for a moment as he left it before closing again, squeezing out a trail of sperm. Sated, Brian climbed to his feet just as Carlo sighed in pleasure and erupted into his girl’s throat. He looked around at the library strewn with the limp bodies of well-fucked slaves and grinned across at his host who was sitting with a slave kneeling between his legs and licking the last of his sperm off his detumescing cock.

One final brandy was taken as the men disentangled themselves and recovered while the slaves were led away, and then goodnights were said and as Brian and Carlo made their way out they heard Alberto click his fingers. From out of the shadows at the edge of the hall, the two identical slaves crawled and came to heel. Alberto walked off in the direction of the stairs.

“A master’s work is never done, eh?” he called to them with a rueful grin.

Brian yawned as he entered his room above the stable and pulled his shirt off then undressed in the dark before sliding gratefully between the sheets. There was a girl in his bed, he assumed it was Amelia but whichever female it was, her legs were open for him as he rolled over and slid effortlessly into her, bending his head to lick and suckle at her nipples in the warm darkness as he began to thrust himself to yet one more climax. A master’s work he thought sleepily………

The following days were spent in training as the slaves grew steadily more impatient for their big day to dawn. They were taken for long runs along the dead-level roads that cut across the featureless plains. The stables took it in turns to use and then vacate the arena and leave it for the opposition to practise pulling the giant logs across the arena floor and to rehearse moves for duelling and formations for melees. For the mass log pulling, Hank and Carlo drilled the squads in a rhythm of pulling from side to side to break the log free at first then on the command to pull straight. At each end of the arena the guards practised unshackling the lines of slaves and then re-attaching them to the other end of the log to pull it back for the second leg.

Brian was delighted to find himself appointed whipman to the Salazar stable’s first chariot and practised with a lean, tanned guard as driver with Jet and Blondie running as ‘outriders’ as they were called. In the event of an injury or a slave going lame, then the second chariot would sacrifice itself by supplying a replacement. The rules were that no other replacements would be allowed.

The design of the chariots was a third generation one. The original ones had simply had four slaves in a line across the crossbar. But then the Bakhtar stable had introduced the six slave design, with three pairs pushing at three crossbars. The increase in speed was welcomed by the crowds as the racing and the crashes became much more spectacular. The drivers however felt that they couldn’t spur the slaves on adequately. The front pair were difficult to flog and even the middle pair didn’t get as much as they needed and so the third generation of chariot had evolved. Keeping the long shaft of the three pair design, it put just one pair halfway along. Their backs and buttocks were perfectly placed for the driver’s whip. Ahead of them the front four were also now perfectly exposed for the whipman to spur on with the long lashed driving whip. At present they seemed to be delivering a satisfactory amount of both speed and spectacle. Cracking the whips mainly in the air above the slaves’ heads, Brian and his driver, Juan, practised charging the rig at full speed down the straights and then skidding it round at the turns. There were a few capsizes before everyone was fully used to the rig’s behaviour but there was no lasting damage to any of the slaves. Apart from Jet and Blondie running as the outside slaves on the front crossbar – the ones who had one hand free to fight the opposing team with – Cherry and Tigre ran on the stable’s second chariot, after various combinations had been tried.

The two complements of guards and trainers maintained friendly relations and it amused them all that occasionally they had to wade in to break up spats between the slaves as one team filed out and the other entered for practices in the circus and the arena.

Legs, Blondie and Purdy were selected for dressage and Carlo had them drilling under floodlights late in the evenings until they and the three selected Salazar slaves were functioning as a perfectly disciplined unit.

So engrossed was everyone that it came as a real shock when Brian, the grooms, Carlo and the Salazar guards led their squad out of the dressing rooms and into the arena for a final log pull practice and saw a speckling of colour on the terraces and realised that the crowd was beginning to assemble. That night the air was loud with the clatter of helicopters and the rumble of trucks and cars. From the CSL barracks everyone could see the sky glowing a little above the village on the far side of the arena. And from the bulk of the arena itself, Amelia and Patti watched the lights burn bright far into the night as Carlo, Brian and Hank put the finishing touches to the schedules of punishment facing the slaves.

Patti slipped an arm around Amelia’s shoulders as they turned away from the window in Patti’s room. From beneath them came the sounds of Anne Marie and Helga finally settling the fractious slaves for the night. The crisp sound of three measured strikes with a crop drifted up and Anne Marie scolding in her native French.

“That’ll be Tigre. She’s always last down on the night before a show,” Patti said, grinning broadly and unknotting her blouse. Amelia stared at the milky pale, broad and deep breasts with their red nipples and tawny areola.