Into The Arena (14 page)

"They've been busy lads," he told the other men. "Bet there's hardly an unlicked cunt in the room."

Like all the others, Tara kept her eyes down and made no sound or movement. They were used to being talked about in these crude male terms.

"Now," he continued, "your owner's coming to take a look at what he's paid for, God help him! He'll probably say 'Carlo, you've been too soft. Beat them harder! Work them harder!' And he'll be right. You've had your pleasure cruise and this is where the work starts. You're going to fight and fuck till you drop. Then you're going to get up and do it again! Day after day! And if you thought the thrashings you've had in the past were hard......they were love bites! Here we've got whips like you've never seen, and punishment cells."

Just as he finished a man came in through the open door from the courtyard. He was tall and slender and dressed in crisp, well-tailored trousers and shirt. He had a long and rather narrow face and his brown hair was thick and unusually long. But most of all he had the air of one who knows exactly what he wants and who will tolerate no obstruction to his desires.

This had to be her owner, Tara thought. The full import of that outlandish thought hit her like a sack of cement. She was
owned
now. She really and truly was a slave.

Carlo stood back respectfully and the man paced slowly along the line. He stopped now and then to examine a girl more closely. He would reach out and hold a breast, squeezing it until the soft flesh bulged between his fingers, or he would examine the muscle tone of a thigh. He seemed to be particularly interested in Jet and spent some time slapping her thighs thoughtfully before moving up to her breasts and lifting them by the nipples, then letting them fall. Tara watched from the corner of her eye in gathering nervousness as he approached her. And when at last he stood squarely in front of her, Tara could feel her heart pounding, but whether it was fear or excitement at being in the presence of the man who was ultimately responsible for every beating she had ever received, she couldn't tell.

Tensely she waited for him to touch her but instead he simply turned to Carlo, "This one?" he asked.

"That's her."

He reached out and lifted her chin but Tara was careful to keep her eyes down. She felt defiant but Carlo's warnings about this place were fresh in her mind. However he forced her head back until she had no choice but to look at him. He stared fixedly at her, his eyes were a curious flecked grey colour and Tara could read no expression in them at all.

"I'll see her in training tomorrow," he said at last and then moved on, leaving Tara almost panting with relief.

At last he finished and stood back beside Carlo.

"As usual, you've been far too soft Carlo," he said. "Make them sweat from now on. And double punishment for any slacking." Then he was gone and the men visibly relaxed.

Out in the courtyard where the evening was coming on swiftly, Mark stood with Carlo as they watched the evening meal being carried in to the barracks.

"I mean it this time," Mark said. "We've got just over a month before the first show. Work them hard, them and the first squad as well. Conor's going to stay out hunting until he's got the third squad so he'll miss it, but the girls will be here soon after that."

"When'll you and the other owners finalise what events we're staging and with what weapons?"

"We meet in two weeks to deal with that. I want you there. Now, I've got an appointment with another slave. Are you sampling any of the goods in there tonight?" he indicated the barracks behind them.

"No, and I don't want any of the lads to either. They can have the first squad. I want these ones fresh up for it tomorrow."

Mark took his leave and walked across the courtyard, through an archway in one corner and emerged onto the training ground. It was really just a large expanse of well-trodden earth and sand, but on the far side, over against the wall of the pens, as they were called, stood a variety of frames, trestles and benches, as well as, anchored firmly in the ground, three tall whipping posts. In the twilight the pale form of Patti seemed to almost glow. She was hung by her wrists from the top of one of the rectangular frames but was also seated astride a trestle and as he approached her he could see how she was squirming and moaning in pain. Ali had done his usual highly competent job.

The slave's toes could barely touch the ground either side of the trestle which had a narrow top to it, no more than an inch wide. Her lips had been drawn either side of the top beam and weights clipped onto them. Four to each lip, he noted, which had distended them into thin flaps hanging down each side of the beam on which her open vulva rested. Of course she could always try and pull herself up by using her hands to grip the chains which held her wrists. But by the look of her she had passed that point and was now using the last of the strength in her legs, all the sinews of which were standing out in sharp relief as she strained to take some of the pressure off her crotch. Her breasts were pulled taut into smooth mounds rather than their usual prominent hemispheres and he could see that she was running with sweat. Altogether she looked wonderful, he thought, and the fact that she held a whip between her teeth completed the picture perfectly.

He stood beside her and ran his hands over her heaving body before easing the whip out of her mouth, then lifted her slightly by gripping her waist and she groaned in relief as he slid the trestle out from between her legs. With her legs no longer so widely spread she was able to stand a little more easily, though she was still stretched almost to her limit.

"Your slave awaits your pleasure, my Master," she managed to gasp.

"Good. A minimum of sixty lashes I think and then we'll see how you're doing."

Her answering whimper was music to his ears.

"Everything okay, Boss?" Ali called from over by the archway.

"Fine!" he called back. "Put out the tit press and some needles in my room will you?"

Patti's sob when she heard how hard her evening was going to be, was even more delightful. And the best of it was, he reflected, that she was desperate for him to take her, but due to the long ride on the trestle, it was going to be agony for her when he did. But of course, that would make it even sweeter for her. Slavegirls were wonderful creatures.

He began to whip her. Sixty was a good tariff and he had plenty of time so he didn't use his full force at the start. That could come later, she would probably have a couple of whip-induced orgasms on the way to receiving her full ration. So if he swung in the last ten or so at full force he could probably get her to a third peak before he let her down. She usually passed out once she had taken a long beating like this and Ali, with his usual care had put a bucket of water beside the frame. The whip consisted of several long, plain lashes coming off a plaited handle and they left thin, criss-crossing marks which wrapped right round her back. She screamed as they bit into the sides of her tits. The count had reached eight and he shifted his aim to her buttocks, making her twist and yelp as the long lashes wrapped her hips now and snapped at her sex. The hiss and slap of the whipping went on steadily as the light faded. And the slave's answering cries only attained the tone of agonised orgasm when the tally had reached twenty five and her tits were getting it full on.

The Owner stopped for a minute and wiped his brow. The evening was hot and he stripped off his shirt before he started in again.

Sometimes slave owning was hard work.

Chapter 9

The fact that there was another group of girls already at the ranch came as a shock to Tara and the others of her 'squad' - as Carlo had started referring to them. Tara's was Two Squad, these other girls were One Squad. The two lines ot twelve girls stood facing each other on the training ground under the bright morning sun and Tara suddenly saw the reasons behind the apparent relaxation in discipline within the confines of the barracks.

The previous night, when their wrists had been chained to the walls at the heads of their beds, they had all quickly discovered that enough length had been left to allow them to move to the toilet, if necessary, but most importantly they could move to their cellmate's bed. For the first hour or so after they had been chained and left, the darkened cells had been filled with the clink and rattle of chains and little, muffled squeaks of delight as each pair found that they could share a lover's bed. However, making love wasn't easy by any means, with their hands restricted by the steel rings on their restraints being joined by a loop of heavy chain which was padlocked to the ring in the wall. But with some experimenting, Tara and Cherry found that it was quite possible to enjoy each other. Cherry in particular found that having the chains drag across her naked body as she squirmed around in Tara's bed was a pleasure all on its own.

All this must have been well understood by the men because after about an hour a guard came in and took his whip to the two girls in the cell opposite Tara's. He said not one word while he belaboured the intertwined bodies. Their cries and screams said all that was necessary. It was quite a severe flogging and the message was plain. As soon as he left, all the girls settled down to sleep at once.

The effect of those events was that when Tara's squad faced the original one, there was no fellow feeling. The girls who faced them were lean and fit and regarded the newcomers with hostility. A hostility which Tara's squad returned. By letting lesbian relationships form, Carlo and the owner had turned the girls' loyalties inwards - to their own group. So although they were all naked slaves together, Tara's main concern was to protect Cherry. She looked over quickly to her left where Jet stood and saw her too glance protectively at Carrot.

One Squad obviously felt the same.

They were all equipped with single lash whips about three feet long, and a small round shield was strapped to their other forearm. The shield was constructed of a light, strong plastic and as Carlo pointed out, as he strode between the two lines, it would give them some protection but was too light to do much damage if used as a sort of club. The girls stood about ten feet apart and each one faced an opponent about six feet in front of her. Tara's hand felt sweaty on the handle of her whip, it had been one thing to fight in the hothouse atmosphere of the hold on the ship, and to quickly come to know everyone you fought. But here they were out in the sun, on a sandy surface for all the world as if they were in an arena - like the colosseum. And just like the gladiators of old, they were fighting total strangers. And they were fighting because they were told to by their masters. As extra encouragement, Carlo had reminded them all about his boss's instruction that all punishments were to be doubled, and for the new girls' benefit he had pointed out the frames and posts on the far edge of the training ground.

She tried to banish all thoughts and concentrate on the girl opposite her, who was black haired and almost as tall as Tara herself. And like Tara and all the others she was stark naked. But unlike Tara's squad these girls were all clean-shaven and their bare sexes had given her quite a start when she had first been marched out here. It seemd to double their nakedness somehow as they stood quite unselfconsciously with their legs open and braced for combat. Tara's opponent's face was hard and expressionless, maybe she was looking at her with contempt, she was after all a 'new girl' and these others could have been here for weeks or months. She tried to predict how the girl would come at her once Carlo gave the word. And she was sure these girls would take the option to charge, they were used to these longer whips and the shields. She examined the girl's stance to try and gauge whether she would lead with her left or right leg and that might tell her to which side she was better ducking in order to get her own lash in. Once again her eyes strayed to the girl's inscrutable face while Carlo told them that in training each contest would end when one girl was down or disarmed, but that when it was for real, they would go on until their opponent couldn't continue.

Suddenly Tara's attention was caught by something. Her opponent was staring at her through screwed up eyes. Tara's eyes flicked to the sandy floor and saw that she was casting a long shadow ahead of her where the morning sun was climbing above the building behind her. Carlo had given them something to even up the imbalance in experience, if they had the wit to see it. One Squad would be fighting into the sun and all Tara had to do was not let herself be turned. She grinned and hoped the others had spotted it.

But then Carlo shouted "Fight!" and all thoughts were driven from her mind.

One Squad charged. Tara's opponent came at her screaming and already with her lash swinging. All round her the noise of high-pitched female yells filled the air and the lashes hissed and smacked. Tara ducked low but stood her ground and swept her own whip up and across. She raised her shield and felt the other girl's lash hit it while her own carved across her opponent's midriff, forcing an explosive grunt of pained surprise from her. Tara surged forward, using her shield to push the girl back and getting in an overhead swing that must have landed vertically down her back, making her twist away and leaving her side vulnerable.

All around her Tara could hear grunts and cries and the crash of shields coming together. Someone's whip caught in her hair as it was swung back but she ignored it and swung her own lash for a third time. It connected across the girl's back, but even as she yelled she managed to pivot and bring her own lash down across Tara's left shoulder. The familiar scalding of the leather on her skin was just what Tara needed. The sounds of flesh on flesh, leather on flesh and the noises of straining girls all round her, the whip sting and the sight of her opponent on the back foot sent a shivering thrill running through her. Again she raised her whip high, making the girl look up into the sun to see the strike, but this time she brought her arm down in a long sideways sweep and her whip carved a livid trace across the fronts of her thighs. The girl's shield arm went down and Tara got in two more lashes to her back while she bent and staggered backwards. But it wasn't over yet. From low down the girl curved in a lash across the backs of Tara's calves. But she refused to allow the pain to register. She was going to win and nothing could stop her. She yelled in pure joy as she danced from side to side to confuse her enemy before closing in and laying a stroke down her back, the tip of the whip burying itself between the buttocks. The girl screamed, dropped her whip and grabbed her crotch, turning away hunched over and falling to her knees.

Tara whirled around. Carlo had told them to go to the aid of another squad member if they downed their opponent. She searched quickly for Cherry and found that she had been turned towards the sun by a small brunette who was obviously getting the better of things now. Cherry had her shield up and was trying to wield her own whip but the brunette was dancing on her toes, dodging, and throwing out short, quick-fire lashes which were stinging Cherry's back as she crouched.

Tara dodged as some girl staggered sideways into her and raced to Cherry's duel, just in time to wrap her whip round the brunette's arm and make her drop her whip. But there was no time to savour the triumph. A long trace of agony blazed right across her backside and she whirled again to see that another girl from One Squad was coming for her. For what seemed like ages the two of them traded lash for lash, standing almost toe to toe. Tara could see that this girl was in the grip of the same savage joy she herself was feeling and they even smiled and laughed defiance at each other between the grunts of effort they put into their swings. But then suddenly a second girl joined in against her from the side and flicked a lash in across the backs of Tara's thighs. She leaped sideways and fended off another lash with her shield while flicking out backhanded at her first opponent. It took her by surprise as it snapped across her breasts and she stopped in her tracks. Then Tara got in a full swing against the second girl, again wrapping the forearm of the whip hand in her own leather and wrenching her to her knees. She was about to turn again and finish the other girl when Carlo's voice called, "Hold!"

Immediately everything went still and Tara realised she was panting and gasping for breath, sweat was pouring from her and she felt as elated and drained as she did after sex. She gazed round her. Girls who had been downed were struggling back to their feet, others were bent over, hands on knees like runners after a race and everywhere Tara looked she saw sweating female flesh carrying fresh traces of the whip. It was a weirdly exciting spectacle. But as her breathing calmed she realised that the majority of the girls who had been downed were from her own squad.

"First contest of the day goes to One Squad!" Carlo called, strolling through the results of the mayhem. "Take a drink and a five minute break. Then we go for round Two!"

He stopped by Tara who straightened up and adopted the correct position.

"Good fight, Blondie," he told her. "But remember, these whips are longer than the ones we used on the ship. And they hurt more, yes?"

Tara nodded, now that the adrenalin had stopped flooding through her system, her skin felt as though it had been really scorched wherever the whips had struck her.

"So don't always use a full swing, use your wrist and flick more, then you can hit faster."

Tara nodded again and Carlo went on. "You saw the edge I gave you. You didn't get turned." He reached out and touched her breast. His hard finger just grazing her nipple. She sucked in her breath at the strength of the sensation that shot through her and glancing down she realised that both nipples were as hard as bullets and on her still heaving chest, her breasts felt tight and swollen.

Carlo passed on and Tara went slowly over to Cherry who threw caution to the wind and kissed her in thanks for her rescue. And as she pressed her body to Tara's she could feel that her nipples too were swollen and erect. They went arm in arm, as most of the girls from both squads did, over to where a steel urn of chilled water had been put on a low table. But once again Tara's emotions were in turmoil. She was immensely proud of Carlo's compliments and her victories, but on just her first day here she was back where she had been on the ship. A slave; and one who gloried in her slavery.

Mark awoke slowly. The day before had been a long one and the evening had been energetic too. He stretched and felt the warmth of Patti's body beside him. He rolled over and found that as she was propped up on one elbow, he was looking straight at her breasts. He examined them and relived the delights of the previous night through the traces left on them. Their pale skin had been laced time and again by the whip. As he had thought, she had needed ten hard lashes at the end to propel her to her third climax in the whipping frame and her tits now looked as a good slave's should. The weals were a duskier red than they had been and in between them there were small bruises, some with dots of crimson at the centre, where he had inserted the long thin needles.

Once she was sure he was awake, Patti dived under the cover and he lay back to allow her to perform her first duty of the day. He felt her hair tickle his stomach as she wriggled her way down quickly. His treatment of her the night before had taken her to so many orgasms as he had built careful levels of pain with cruel patience, that she was desperate to take him into her mouth now. He would remind her later that he liked her to lick her way down, but for now he would let it pass - or let her think he had. He sighed with pleasure as he felt her soft lips close around his rapidly tumescing cock and he flung the quilt back to watch her at work. She lay full length between his wide spread legs, her coppery hair spreading over his belly. But when she felt him push the cover off, she propped herself on her forearms, swept her hair to one side in a beautiful, womanly gesture and used her other hand to grasp the base of his shaft and bend it up till it was vertical. Both actions combined to provide him with a perfect view of her lips caressing him.

She might have been in a hurry to get him into her mouth, but now that she had, she savoured every second of the time he allowed her. She licked down the sides of the shaft, ducking her head to roll his balls gently on her tongue, then returned to the shining helm and held it just inside her lips and let her breath caress it before she took quick licks at it and then sank down onto it until her nose almost touched his pubes, making contented mewing noises as she did so. He reached down to keep her hair clear of her face and so free her hand to pass under him and stroke his anus. Slowly, slowly, she increased the frequency and the pace of her long sucks at him until he could no longer restrain the pressure deep in his balls. He gasped as he let go and she felt the swelling of his shaft inside her mouth. He felt her tense herself in readiness to swallow every spurt and saw her eyes look up and meet his in mute worship and gratitude for the gift he was about to give her. Then he lay back and crushed her face down onto him while he thrust and spurted into her, then stayed still while the last tremors ran through him and her tongue searched out every last trace which might still trickle from his slit.

When she had washed him down in the shower and he was dressed, he considered the rest of the day from out on his balcony where a household slave had laid out breakfast on a wrought iron table. Patti stood, naked and obedient beside him. From over the roofs on the other side of the river came the sounds of combat from the training ground and in his mind's eye he envisaged the savage beauty of the spectacle he was about to stage. His cock twitched and stirred. He looked at Patti, but regretfully decided that she needed a couple of days before he could really let loose on her again. But it wouldn't hurt to leave her in no doubt about what awaited her.