Last Slave Standing (8 page)

“The men won’t be back for ages, so come to bed with me. They’ll know where we are if they want a fuck,” she added, lounging back on her bed and letting her legs fall apart.

“But if Brian has to come looking for me, he’ll punish me,” Amelia said, unknotting her own blouse as she spoke and sighing in resignation.

“So? He owes you a bit of quality time I reckon.”

Amelia giggled and lay down beside Patti, filling one hand with the soft warmth of her left breast. “Mmm! Well worth the whipping,” she whispered.

Chapter 6

Raika finished wiping the sperm off her inner thighs and labia, threw the paper towel into a bin and washed her hands in the sink in Patti’s office then let herself back out into the courtyard, a pleasant warmth still coursing through her from the energetic rogering she’d been given while bent over her boss’s desk. A male groom from the farm over on the eastern edge of the estate – where the real horses and ponies were kept - had dropped by to leave Ayesha’s tailor made, studded tack and dressage tack. He had waited to see the tall slave fully harnessed to make sure everything fitted and then he had taken his payment in kind with Raika before wiping himself clean on her buttock, giving her a resounding smack and wandering on his way, whistling jauntily.

Absentmindedly she rubbed herself as she studied the tethered pony slave, patiently facing the wall, her wrists clipped to the shafts of the trap that she was about to pull. The day was a fine one with only a hint of early spring sharpness in the air, a perfect day to start pushing Ayesha back towards fitness, Raika thought as she approached and stroked a silky smooth thigh. Branding and tongue ringing had done her a power of good in Raika’s opinion. She was much more docile and placid. She had hardly reared at all when Raika had tightened the studded tit straps until the leather had sunk into the soft flesh and the wicked little tines, Raika knew, would keep her mind focused firmly on her slavery and the job in hand. The groom let her hand trail down to where the harness’s crotch strap separated the swells of labial meat and mischievously she pressed her fingers hard against where she knew the clitoral rasper was located. The slave’s eyes closed in delight and then opened wide in disappointment when she stopped and took her hand away.

Raika laughed happily, slapped the big slave’s thigh and unfastened her leash. Then she took hold of the reins and jerked them downwards sharply. Instantly the pony dropped to one knee and this allowed Raika to step over the shaft of the trap whilst retaining her modesty in her short skirt.

The irony of the fact that only a few moments ago, that same skirt had been unceremoniously flipped up onto her back while a man whose name she didn’t even know had rammed himself to ejaculation inside her while she bent over a desk, was not lost on her and she was smiling as she settled herself onto the sun-warmed, quilted leather of the seat. She wriggled a little until her bare thighs and her still tingling vulva were comfortable and the skirt was firmly tucked up behind her, then she contemplated the view in front of her and realised that she was going to add to the series of small dark patches on the leather that Mr Carlo and Mr Brian teased all the grooms about. They all leaked helplessly as they sat behind the deliciously quivering pony buttocks and the harnessed nudity of the graceful backs.

On this particular morning Ayesha’s skin was honey gold and clear of all traces of the abuse she had suffered, the slender black straps up between the buttocks, around the waist and across the upper back – where it was required to keep the tit straps steady, provided a beautiful contrast. Raika was quite sure that Mr Carlo would want to see some evidence of the whip having been laid on in his absence and she had decided that now that Ayesha was in full studded tack once more, it was time to ask some questions of the new acquisition.

She hauled back on the reins, more so with the left and Ayesha backed away from the hitching rail, her blinkered head pulled sharply to her left and making her back the rig to the right. Raika took the driving whip up from its holder and halted the slave with a gentle prod between the shoulders, then she tapped the same spot and kept the left rein tight as the powerful slave leaned into her task and the trap scrunched and rumbled on the concrete of the yard. In no time they were through the arch and out onto the tarmac road. Raika pulled the rig round to the left again and at a gentle walk they headed for the main house and the stableyard there. Raika’s intention was to make Ayesha pull for at least two hours, starting with an easy walk and working up to trotting and then galloping.

Ayehsa’s oiled hide glistened in the sun and Raika sat back comfortably, knowing that by the end of the day she would be sweat-drenched and shiny, saliva dripping from her face and flying from her shoulders where her bit, passing through her tongue ring, wouldn’t allow her to close her mouth. But she had had a long lay off and a walk up to the main yard would loosen her nicely. Besides, since she had been left in sole charge, Raika hadn’t spoken to anyone else and in the main yard she could gossip for a few minutes with the Housegirls.

They passed the blank steel walls of the training arena and then joined the path up from the ornamental lake, turning sharp left and with two hard taps between the shoulders and the first sweep of the whipcord, Raika urged her pony into a trot as the rig clattered under the ancient archway and then jolted over the cobbles until she reined in.

Immediately there were squeals of delight from inside the stalls as the Housegirls on groom duty broke off tending to their sister Housegirls who were on pony duty and crowded round Raika and Ayesha.

Inquisitive hands began immediately to explore the strapping of the harness and Ayehsa reared and pranced as her breasts were squeezed and her labia pinched and pulled. The Housegirls’ laughter increased as Raika tightened the reins and swept the whip across the buttocks a few times to calm the pony down. They all loved seeing the arena slaves in harness and under discipline, they knew what it was like to pull a trap in harness – but not what the studs felt like. They all felt the whips of their masters often enough – but never as much as the arena slaves felt them, and Raika knew that part of them envied her as the driver and part of them envied the slave.

She dismounted and was embraced by Mary, Zoe and Penny who were on groom duty that day. They all admired the way Raika had scrubbed Ayesha and oiled her, how well she had plaited her hair, how well the brand new harness shone. And they took it in turns to press the clitoral rasper and twist the swollen nipples hard. It was all part of Raika’s plan for the tall slave. She wanted her inflamed with pain and pleasure before she was run under the whip until she was trembling with fatigue and nearly dropping between the shafts. She wanted the butt plug and dildo to wreak havoc with her innards and the studs to torment her while all the time her driver ignored those facts and just drove her mercilessly. It was time Ayehsa was reminded of her reason for existing.

Disengaging herself from her friends, once they had teased and tormented Ayesha into a lather, Raika had the slave ‘walk on’ and waved goodbye as the rig lurched and rattled over the cobbles until it stood on the tarmac of the main lime tree-shaded drive. Then once more Raika pulled left and let Ayesha walk down the incline, leaning back against the trap’s weight. But once at the bottom and back on the level, she clicked her tongue and used the length of whipcord at the end of the driving whip’s shaft to score the buttocks and wrap the pony’s hips. She broke into a trot and Raika almost laughed aloud. She had been certain that this would happen and her feet were resting against a riding crop that she had laid carefully along the footboard against just such a necessity.

She reined in once more, put the whip back in its holder, took up the crop and stepped over the obediently lowered shaft, then, still holding the reins she threw them over the tall slave’s head and stood in front of her with the reins in one hand and the crop in the other. Between her blinkers, Raika could see the pony’s eyes were large with apprehension and tinged with just a little anticipation. She tightened her small fist on the reins and with no warning swung in a hard lash against the fronts of the thighs. She drew her arm full back and put her full strength into the blow as she swung forwards. She had quickly learned at CSL that there was no point whatever in being gentle with an arena slave. A deep tramline blossomed across the flesh instantly and Ayesha reared back, squealing around her bit. Raika held onto the reins grimly and dodged an attempted kick from a steel soled sandal. She swung in another lash, knowing it would be searing agony across the thigh muscles. Again Ayesha twisted and reared furiously. Again Raika hung on to the reins, panting and grinning fiercely with the thrill of the fight. This was where Ayehsa would be broken to the CSL bit. Or not.

Raika got off a third lash that cracked across the slave’s brand at her hip as much as anything, so violent had Ayesha’s twisting become. Behind them the trap’s wheels grated and scraped on the tarmac. Raika struck again, this time she whipped the shaft across Ayesha’s belly, just above her belt. Her breath came out in an agonised wheeze and her eyes opened wide, but her legs stayed steady. Raika deliberately laid the crop across the fronts of both thighs and then lifted it away. This time there was no attempt to dodge the blow but a mad prancing and harness jingling dance of agony followed the crisp, slashing impact.

“Now, then, girl,” Raika said breathlessly when calm had been restored a little. “I think we understand each other, eh?”

Ayesha’s thighs carried rough edged tramlines hewn into the smooth flesh. Here and there the blood speckled darkly just below the skin.

Raika took her seat again, breathing hard but smiling in triumph. She had known the big slave would try it on. All the experienced ones did. Even Blondie had tried it on with her when she first arrived. The new ones, like Rose and Legs were anxious to please and always ‘honest’ as Mr Carlo put it, but the old hands, they never exerted themselves until they had tested a driver’s or trainer’s mettle with the whip.

The first bit of trotting had been slapdash and lazy, the slave had made hardly any effort to lift her knees the way she knew a driver would want. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Raika slashed back and forth across the strong back before snapping the lash over one shoulder to scald a strap-tormented breast and Ayesha leaned into her work properly, almost sending her driver sprawling backwards with her sudden eagerness to attain the high stepping trot she knew was required.

Raika took the trap almost the whole way round the perimeter of the estate, sometimes letting the pony slave walk, sometimes lashing her into a headlong gallop. It was late afternoon before the exhausted slave was trotted back up the path from the lake. By then her shoulders and quivering buttocks were a delicate lacework pattern of pink and red lines. Her tightly plaited hair was coming loose and every now and then spittle flew back over a shoulder. Her body ran with sweat and the occasional bit-muffled groan told Raika that it was playing havoc with the weals and under the straps where the studs had driven in, the salt would be reminding her of the depths of sacrifice that were expected of her.

Back in the yard, while the slave stood, ribs heaving and legs shaking, Raika hummed a tune happily and busied herself putting away the trap and then wrenching the harness off Ayesha’s body. It was normal after an extended run for the tack to have embedded itself quite deeply. And it was for that reason that the bridle was the last piece of kit to be removed. The bit and tongue ring kept noise to a minimum. But at last she was able to swing the slave up under a winch and then soap her down before sending her through the showers and driers.

She dropped into a deep sleep almost as soon as she had finished her evening feed and Raika was able to lean on the stall door and reflect on a good day’s work.

Before her Ayehsa lay sprawled with the careless ease of sleep, her legs were flung apart and Raika could see the little craters in the flesh of the belly where the strap had run down from the belt, the labia were reddened and puffy from having been constricted and Raika knew that just a touch on the cruelly sensitised sexflesh within them would send the slave hurtling into orgasm. But that would have to wait, she had days of hard work and whipping to endure before she would have earned that pleasure. Her breasts rose and fell invitingly as she breathed deeply and their attraction was only increased by the rings of craters and small scabs around their roots. Raika felt a tingle at her groin as she contemplated their size and firmness…….maybe a bit of tit whipping would be good for her in the morning. She fidgeted a little, squeezing her thighs together as she considered whether or not that would be good training or just great fun for her. She knew how much trust had been placed in her and was almost delirious with gratitude and pride. Ayesha had certainly been one of the top performers on the circuit, and now she had been given into her sole charge. She made a mental note to give Mr Carlo and Mr Brian the best blow jobs they had ever had on their return. She felt real pride in herself these days and was absolutely clear in her mind that at CSL she had the first real home she had known in her adult life. The only thing that terrified her was that one day she might be sold again. But on that evening that seemed a remote possibility and she concentrated instead on the growing need between her legs.

She had just made up her mind to go and sample the dildos and vibrators in the dungeon before going to bed when the stable door opened and Sir John Fitzgerald slipped inside. He closed the door quietly behind him and smiled at her as he approached. For some reason, Raika felt the acid of sick apprehension dissolve her brief contentment.

“Trojan Horse,” he whispered, standing directly in front of her and as Raika’s world fell apart, all she could see was his smile; smug and supremely self-satisfied.

She reeled back and came up short against the half door to the stall. Those words had come back to haunt her at last. She had thought that she had blocked them out months ago; made her memories of her previous owner into merely scenes from a bad dream. But now he had stretched out his hand to claim her.

Through tear misting eyes she saw Sir John, looming above her.

“You know that when he put you out to auction your master told you he wanted you to do a job for him, and if you did it he promised to do something for you, didn’t he?”

She nodded miserably, recalling the huge black man plunging his massive tool into her while the big Irishman stood beside her. She recalled her master leaning down and promising her that if she continued to work for him despite being auctioned off, he would send her home with a rich bridegroom and she would live in honour for the rest of her life. It was her dream, to return to the hill country of northern India and to drive through her village in a powerful limousine, like the ones she was now used to seeing, with a handsome, rich young man beside her, and somehow her previous master had known what her dream had been.