THE PRIZE (17 page)

“She’s flooding!” The girl’s voice was an excited squeak. “The first.......cunt I’ve ever felt and it’s being turned on by being strung up naked and groped by half the world! Do you think she’s ever been......cunt whipped?” She clearly found the last words difficult to say but an excited flush spread up her cheeks once she had got them out.

“I’d bet on it,” Brian laughed, watching the muscles in her wrist move as she flexed her fingers inside the slave, then her thumb found the clitoris and began to rub there as well. In only a few seconds the cunt was exuding hungry squelching and sucking noises. The girl flung her head back and laughed in the sheer joy of her cruelty as she pulled her hand down and left the slave bereft.

“How’s your cunt doing?” Brian asked, becoming a little more sure of his ground.

She gave the little tilt of her head that he was rapidly becoming acquainted with and considered. “Very wet, I’d say.” She lifted her fingers to her nose and inhaled the slave’s emission deeply then held them up for him to sniff. The scent was pungent and exciting and he suddenly became aware that in the background of all that was going on, the arena scent was that of aroused women. Sex was literally in the air. The slaves were helplessly exuding their juices as were the women who were inspecting them. Not a dry set of knickers in the entire place, he thought, always assuming anyone’s wearing them. He looked back at the girl who was moving to the next slave and he had an idea.

They moved from slave to slave and the girl’s boldness grew. They also moved from squad to squad, pinching, squeezing and groping like all those around them. The temperature in the crowd rose slowly as the cool of the evening began to filter down onto the arena floor. They saw one male dominant lift his slave’s skirt to show someone he was talking to how she wore a chain drawn tightly between her legs and wrapped round her waist. Another
female
sub was supporting herself by leaning forwards on the low railing, her hands gripping it and her back obediently arched. Her skirt was piled up on her bottom and her master was discussing the relative merits of the cane and the crop with another master and one of the guards. Brian watched his companion’s reaction carefully.

After they had investigated the muscle tone of one of the visiting squad slave’s buttocks and the girl had slid her hand forward to add yet another taste and scent to the melange already there. He decided to move on.

“Lift your skirt and put your left hand up into your cunt. I want to see how wet you are and I want your scent on its own.”

“It’s too tight! I’ll have to drop it.”

The response came so fast that Brian was almost taken off balance.

“So? Drop it. But do what you’re told,” he managed. She turned her back to him and unzipped the skirt where she stood. Some couples passing grinned and stopped but the girl kept on, wriggling her hips to get the material down. A black lacy thong came into view, bisecting pale-skinned but firm and generous buttocks. In order to get her legs far enough apart she had to allow it to drop fully to the ground. Blushing with mingled excitement and embarrassment, she glanced around her at a growing audience and then back at Brian.

“Get on with it,” he growled. “The dressage starts soon.”

The men around them nodded approvingly, some of them slid hands up under the short skirts or inside the loose robes their women were wearing as the girl slid her left hand down the front of her thong and everyone could see her tilt her pelvis, get her knuckles firmly under her and then move her fingers as deep inside as she could get. Then triumphantly she withdrew the hand and presented it to Brian. He sniffed the glistening fingers, she smelled of the familiar musk but there was a delicacy there as well which he found interesting. Some of the other men asked if they too could smell. He graciously gave permission and made the girl wait several minutes before allowing her to pull her skirt up again.

“You’re quite the little slut aren’t you?” he told her when, flushed and happy she had zipped herself up.

“How much of one is what I’m here to find out,” she said.

“You’re off to a good start. Now come on, we need to place our bets and get to the race track.”

At the far end of the two racks of slaves stood a separate enclosure with only two slaves inside. They had been placed with their backs to two tall posts. Their hands were chained behind the posts and to judge by their erect bearing the rings at the backs of their collars were fastened to the wood as well. Instead of being hooded they were merely blindfolded but they bore some interesting decorations and above the small enclosure was a sign which read simply;

“CSL stable
.
”

This was really the reason Brian had come but now wasn’t the time or place to reveal that. Instead he took his new companion by the elbow as they approached.

“My money’s going on the Prince’s team. Two reasons. First they
’ve
got a bit more meat on the bone and for a three day show I reckon they’ll need it. Secondly they’ve bought in some of the CSL slaves.”

The girl looked blank.

“It’s an independent stable operating out of England,” he explained. “They rent slaves out and they’ve got some of the best on the circuit. Heard of Blondie?”

The girl shook her head at first then stopped. “Yes, I’ve seen some mention of her on some site or other, before I plucked up courage to book a ticket.”

“She’s the best in the business and I think they’ve bought her in for this show. But she’ll be doing dressage now. These two are just additions to the Prince’s squad.”

They had arrived at the enclosure which was sectioned off by a fairly high rail positioned too far away to permit fondling or touching the slaves. The two stood so motionless as to appear almost like statues. They carried far more extreme decorations than the tattooed numbers of the other slaves. Their nipples were pierced horizontally by thin needles and these supported shiny steel U shapes. From these were slung thin silver chains so that the breasts were joined.

Instead of the usual leather collars, these slaves wore high steel ones with decorative work at the fronts, pointing down their chests and extending to between the breasts. Their upper arms bore complicated bangles and between their opened legs delicate gold filigree work extended up from the crotch almost to the navel.

On their right hips they bore a brand in the shape of a simple rectangle within which were the letters CSL.

A strikingly handsome woman with thick copper
-
coloured hair was in attendance and greeted them. She wore only a blouse knotted beneath large and heavy breasts and a very short skirt. Not only that, it was designed to ride low on her hips so that the observer could clearly see that she too bore a brand.

She handed Brian a couple of leaflets, smiled warmly and left them to read.

“Stable name; Ox,” Brian read, pointing to the blonde slave while the girl craned over his arm to see. “She is in great demand from stables wanting to strengthen their log pulling squads and add endurance in whip melees. She has fifty combats and contests to her name and has won thirty two. Apart from service in the arena, this slave is ideal for dungeon sessions in the evenings as she orgasms frequently but very quietly. She can safely be left ungagged without risking disturbance to your party.”

“Oh, yes!” the girl breathed.

Brian turned to the second leaflet, his blood pounding at the thought of the cruelty implied by the words and the utter completeness of the stable’s domination of its slave.

“Stable name;
Cherry,” he read.

“Oh
yeah. Look at her nipples!” the girl cried excitedly.

“A natural runner, Cherry is used for chariot racing and for assault course running. Her athleticism also makes her very effective in whip duels. She has an impressive record of landing considerably more lashes on opponents than they do on her. She has twenty combats to her name and sixteen wins. She has also run in thirty chariot races with only seven outright defeats. In assault course running she has accumulated seventy points in twenty races.

Very enthusiastic under punishment and provides best service if left ungagged. Her orgasms are entertainingly loud and she will frequently beg for more if used hard enough.”

Brian felt the girl’s breasts press against his arm, her breathing was loud and it was clear that both of them needed release. However, the redhead approached.

“Would you like to reserve either of them?” she asked. They had been asked before by several of the guards and declined. Brian was trying not to spend too much, but the stoicism of these slaves and the cruelty and self-assurance of the leaflets were very tempting.

“The CSL stable prides itself on the excellence of its product and both slaves have two slots left on the first evening. But I’m afraid their second evenings are fully booked.”

Brian knew that the first evenings were ruinously expensive as the slaves were still fresh and could take plenty of whip. It wasn’t uncommon for them to spend three slots of an hour each in the dungeons. The second evenings were much shorter and the use more limited.

Brian shook his head reluctantly and they moved away to place their bets with one of the bookies standing by the exit. He placed a hand on the girl’s buttocks as they went.

“I think we’ll entertain ourselves. Now let’s place a bet and find somewhere for a quick one before we head for the dressage,” he told her.

Using the chips they had bought at their respective hotels, they bet heavily on the Prince’s stable to win overall, to win the chariot racing and to win by a margin of more than ten points.

Having done that they slipped outside, found a quiet corner in the lee of the arena and had a nameless, urgent fuck, the girl’s back rasping against the stone, Brian’s legs supporting them both. Under his roughly mauling hands, Brain felt that the girl’s nipples were indeed up-tilted and she was pleasantly tight around his cock.

Afterwards the girl made to throw away her knickers rather than put them on again, she held them up once her skirt was back on, they were limp and soaked.

“Keep them,” Brian told her. “I might want to gag you with them later.”

Her laugh was throaty and excited.

Back around the main street, people were beginning to drift towards the race track and the booming of a PA began to warn people that the dressage would be staged shortly.

Down at the race track, Brian used his size and his elbows to get them to the front where they could lean on the rail and watch. They only just made it in time, all four of the red team’s ponies were already standing neatly in a row alongside three of the home team’s, their plumes nodding under the harsh glare of the floodlights. Occasionally one girl would stamp her shod foot impatiently and her driver would flick the cord of the dressage whip lightly across her shoulders. Dressage was the one event where the whip was applied only lightly.

As they squirmed their way into a comfortable position, Brian heard the girl give a soft whistle of appreciation. The ponies did make for a fine sight, the tight leather straps running between their legs, their long tails, the finely worked blinkers, the clicking of teeth on bits and the tight tit straps making the breasts stand proud on their chests, all combined to produce a highly erotic tableau.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the PA boomed suddenly. “His Highness Prince Hassan promised us all a very special show. And here’s why. He is proud to present; owned and trained by the CSL stable but running under His Highnness’s colours........the one.........the only.......the Queen of the Arena! Blondie!”

The entire crowd erupted into cheers and everyone craned to get a first glimpse of the slave as she was driven out. A spotlight was trained on the entry from the paddock onto the track proper and suddenly she was there.

From his researches Brian recognised that Carlo Suarez himself was driving her and he brought her in in an exaggerated gait that allowed the adoring crowd to get a good look at her and also demonstrated his control over her. He had her at a slow trot, each step involved lifting a knee high and then holding it steady for a split second before completing the step with a little prance and lifting the other knee. It demanded intense concentration on the part of the slave. Once he had her on the track he steered her on the customary first lap where the rigs came close to the crowd and people could reach out and touch the ponies.

“Why’s she so famous?” the girl beside Brian shouted over the noise.

“She’s only ever lost one fight and everyone thinks she threw it! And she once took four hundred lashes punishment in one day at one of the shows. It’s the most downloaded video in the world practically!”

Brian’s plan, such as it was, involved getting close to Carlo Suarez at some point and as a keen fan of the arenas, the chance to stroke Blondie’s flank as she passed was not one he intended missing. He leaned out and watched the rig approach.

In real life, the blonde was bigger than he had thought, but in her harness she was a picture of enslaved womanhood. Each exaggerated lift of her knees exposed the way her labia were bisected by her crotch strap and set her long, palomino tail swinging. It helped to know that the strap held a fat dildo in place and supported the tail which was itself attached to a butt plug. He explained as much to his entranced companion, who moaned when he explained about the wicked steel studs on the insides of the tit straps.