Slave's Honour Page 11

  Perdita she would be. Perdita. Purdy.

  He sat back well pleased and smiled over at Carlo who raised his glass to him.

  Up in his room Brian turned his borrowed slave onto her front then took a flogger to her back and bottom for a good general all over glow. Then he set about using the crop to deliver rather more focussed bolts of pain. Her bottom jigged up and down delightfully as he worked the crop on her and once he felt tired enough he freed both her feet and hands. Lying down he yawned happily as the freed slave began kissing and licking her way down across his stomach and then lift away for a second. He sighed in delight as he felt her lips touch him again, this time right at the root of his hard cock and her tongue began to lick its way round his balls. There was one thing about drinking a bit too much over dinner, he thought hazily. It meant he could keep it up most of the night. He could catch up on sleep in the truck and on the plane the next day.

  Raika sometimes wished she had been born a little bigger or taller, then she might have been a gladiator herself. It would have meant having to fight in the arenas but at least they were left to sleep most nights. The trouble with being a groom, she thought, as she felt another man reach his climax inside her, was that she was in some ways of even lower status. Once the barracks had been settled and the auctioned slaves chained and bedded, the guards had decided that as she wasn’t quite one thing or the other and as all the household staff were busy, she would do. Currently she was lying on her back on a table in a sordid bar that served as an off duty lounge for the men. Her legs dangled off one end and as the last man to spurt himself inside her backed away another grinning, tanned gaucho presented himself. She rested her head back on the table; it was better not to see how gap toothed and filthy he was. But someone grabbed her hair and pulled her a bit further up so her head hung down and all of a sudden her visible world consisted of a huge purple helmed cock which smelled of sweat and urine. It was just as well, she thought as she obediently opened her mouth, that she had become accustomed to being used like this. The cock rammed in with cruel thoughtlessness and she gagged helplessly. Above her male laughter rang out.

  Soon, very soon, Raika thought, she would be a respectable married woman and wouldn’t have to put up with this. But for now, there was something rather delicious about the way she could be made to polish a cock with her tongue and swallow down every drop of its bitter spurtings. She gave up trying to understand the contradictions in her feelings and concentrated on sucking cock and fucking simultaneously. She wondered if they would beat her later. Oddly enough she rather hoped they would.

  Chapter 10

  Ayesha screamed. Next to her, her old friend and now her regular lover and stall mate, Miriam, recently promoted to the ranks of the solo gladiators, did as well. They both listened intently once the sharp agony had passed, hearing the soft footsteps retreating before they heard them returning and the canes would bite again into their already pulsing and scalding buttocks. There was a line of ten female heads poking through holes in a long stock board. Behind the board their bodies were bent over a rail at their bellies to stop them falling to their knees, their wrists were clipped together on their backs. Currently His Highness the Prince of Bakhtar was entertaining guests. As usual he was being very hospitable and was allowing his prized fighting slaves to provide all the entertainment the guests could want. In one of the many atriums within the sprawling palace they were presently sampling the noise produced by ten slaves screaming at once as the canes landed.

  Ayesha heard the soft footfalls on the grass behind her and tensed, squeezing tears from her closed eyes. There was a short swoosh noise and another numbing burst of agony across her buttocks. The fact that she was suffering so intensely for no other reason than to provide amusement for other people was having its usual effect on her and she knew that if someone touched her cunt they would find her shamelessly aroused - that didn’t alter the fact that the pain was appalling. What made it harder to bear was that the caning was being delivered by a gaggle of women; the men were seated under an awning and taking drinks while their wives, girlfriends, mistresses - Ayesha couldn’t have cared less what they were - had formed up in a long line behind the immobilised slaves and were delivering a slow and sadistic torment. The final indignity was that having one of the wretched women not touch her molten clitoris and flooding cunt was even worse than having her do it. From behind her came the clink of glasses and the glugging of drinks being poured.

  The slaves relaxed as they heard female voices expressing gratitude for the cooling liquids on such a hot day. Miriam shook the sweat from her face and grinned helplessly at Ayesha, who returned it. Behind the board they shrugged their shoulders at how helpless they were to stop themselves enjoying such arrogant cruelty.

  With the women having got the formation caning out of their systems the men came to take care of the devastation wrought in the submissive bodies of the slaves. Talking casually among themselves they helped themselves to the proffered cunts, mouths and anuses. Ayesha was delighted that Peter Lang himself, her master and owner and the prince’s trainer, bothered to take the time to enter her mouth and let her pleasure him. He had won her in a bet with the prince almost a year before. The prince himself took Miriam’s mouth and the men chatted happily while their slaves sucked.

  “So how’s the new stock settling in, Peter?” the prince enquired.

  “Not too badly at all. I think we bought well and strengthened our squad’s melee capability. The log pulling should be much better too. I had two of the ones we bought suspended out on the parade ground and given a full body whipping, fifty lashes with a stock whip.”

  “Took it well?”

  “Very. Orgasmed and then withstood the rest of the day’s training.”

  “Excellent! Senor Salazar did you proud indeed. And I hope you’ll do us proud tonight, Peter. As ruler of a pariah state, you know how I have to cultivate ‘special’ friends.”

  The two men laughed and Ayesha refrained from starting the brisk nodding motion that would bring her master to his climax. He clearly wanted to talk some more, so she continued to lick him, rolling her tongue and pushing it along the slit of the meatus in the way she knew he liked.

  “Of course, Your Highness, and I assure you they’ll acquit themselves well. But I must ask that these are returned to stables for training tomorrow.”

  “Of course. I know the Blues are no pushover and we’ve only got three weeks to prepare. And we’re the away team as well. Are all the arrangements made with regard to the….main event?”

  Ayesha caught the emphasis and her stomach lurched at the thought of what new cruelty the men might have dreamed up.

  “Everything’s coming together nicely Your Highness.”

  Ayesha had no idea what they were talking about but at these last words, her master put his hand on her head to steady her and began to fuck her mouth in earnest. She felt the hard piston of his cock begin to seek the back of her throat. Her tongue felt the pulses begin in his urethra and she braced herself. Given her position she knew she had no chance of swallowing quickly enough but knew that he enjoyed pumping his thick spend into her fast enough to make her choke and so she was happy to oblige; the thick, glutinous fluid spurting out of her nose and oozing thickly out of her lips past his rigid shaft as he rammed carelessly into her tight mouth. Her throat worked at coping with the discharge but her master’s divine cock was always capable of producing enough spunk to defeat her.

  As the palace had no stables, the gladiators were housed in a dormitory and the luxury of having simple beds to sleep in was not wasted on them. Once the door had closed behind the guard, all ten girls rubbed at their scalded bottoms and helped each other dab cold water on the tramlines and cuts that adorned them. Miriam danced up onto tiptoes as Ayesha held a wad of damp tissue to a particularly deep cut.

  “Bitches,” she muttered as Ayesha pressed the cloth home. Mistreatment at the hands of other women was something all the slaves found hard to tole
rate.

  “I know, lover,” Ayesha said, crouching down behind Miriam and enjoying watching her buttocks quiver with every movement. “But you know there’ll be worse to come tonight. And if we don’t behave my master will have all of us staked out in the sun for a month.”

  There was rueful laughter at that.

  “And no fucks!” another girl warned and there was a general groan.

  “Come on, let’s get into bed and get some rest before the evening,” Ayesha suggested. The shutters were closed and the room was bathed in a soft twilight. The whole palace would be dozing until the sun lost the worst of its fury and then the fun would begin again.

  Miriam and Ayesha climbed into bed together, they knew that in some ways the prince kept a relaxed stable. Some of the girls they fought had brands and some had heavy tongue rings which rendered them virtually mute, but the prince and his trainer actually encouraged close relationships between the slaves and allowed speech. They felt the slaves would fight all the better as a team if they regularly slept together - albeit on the straw of their stables.

  Ayesha knew the guard would be back to make sure they were settled down in a few minutes but there was just enough time to enjoy the feel of linen against her skin and Miriam’s soft bodily warmth against hers.

  She was head over heels in love with her master, who had made her realise what a worthless, treacherous creature she had been before he captured her. And yet, although she knew she deserved nothing but his contempt he had offered her the chance of redemption by allowing her to obey his orders. It was a debt she looked to repay at all opportunities but knew that each time she submitted to him, she owed him more. She simply worshipped him.

  But however much she adored the men who used her, as representatives of her master’s will, she still found the softer, voluptuous curves of a woman’s body enticing. And now, as Miriam pulled the thin blanket over them, she delved with her hand between the warm satin skinned thighs and felt for the warmth of her lover’s cunt.

  They were roused at dusk, given a light supper then taken to the showers and allowed to wash and towel themselves dry before being taken to the preparation rooms on the ground floor. Here the prince’s household slaves laid them on slabs of cold marble, and massaged them, rubbing scented oil over their skins till they shone - and making sure the skin was sensitised for what was to follow and the muscles were relaxed for suspension and restraint. Then their hair was dried and brushed and finally when the trainer himself was satisfied that they looked good enough to represent the prince, he had them ushered downstairs into the stone walled corridors and finally into the dungeon set aside for the night’s entertainment.

  Ayesha was assigned to an apparatus consisting of four posts about six feet tall and set in a rectangle formation. At the top of each post was a pulley and over this ran a chain which terminated in a hook designed to catch in the loops of wrist and ankle restraints. Once she was told where to stand she waited patiently while the rest of the slaves were positioned in various, excitingly cruel looking pieces of equipment. Miriam was next to her and the two again exchanged excited, nervous grins. Waiting for the session to start was always the worst part, fear and anticipation warred constantly in their fluttering bellies and clenching vaginas. Ayesha had been suspended in this apparatus before and would have preferred the rack that she watched a Finnish girl being strapped onto. That was really frightening, what was awaiting her was painful but not nearly as deliciously terrifying.

  A guard approached and began by attaching her ankles to their chains and tightening them until her feet were spread and touching the wood of the posts. Then he had her lie face down and put her arms out to attach her wrists. One by one he hauled on the chains so that in a few minutes she was part-suspended by her wrists with her ankles still on the floor. The guard turned his attention to those and hauled them up too, one by one. Eventually, with her fingers clasping the chains to try and ease the pressure, Ayesha hung parallel to the floor, only a slight hollowing in her back the result of the tension on the chains that held her. Cursing the staff in the preparation rooms he swept her long black hair up and found an elastic band to hold it in a rough pony tail. That done he left her and she was able to look across at Miriam. She was restrained in a position which was almost the precise opposite of Ayesha’s. The four stakes to which her wrists and ankles were shackled were slightly shorter but in their centre was a fifth post. This had a slightly domed top and was higher than the others. Miriam was laid on her back on this, her magnificent limbs in full extension. Her breasts, mounded smoothly atop her chest, rose and fell with her nervous breathing, the nipples clearly hardened into full erection. The two women exchanged glances as the guards busied themselves ensuring that each apparatus had a good selection of whips, weights, chains, hooks, pincers, needles and candles nearby. Then they checked that overhead, bars could be lowered to sling weighted chains over to stretch breasts or any other part of the slaves’ flesh.

  “Wish they’d get started,” Miriam muttered, craning her head up.

  “Shut the yap,” an American voice called. A tall guard strolled over and bent down to lick slowly over one of Miriam’s breasts, making her quiver.

  “You know the drill down here, ladies. Mouths are for screaming and sucking cock only. Want me to report you to the trainer?”

  Miriam shook her head and the guard smiled, burying his hand between her spread thighs.

  Just then voices became audible beyond the door, which opened suddenly and the guests trooped in.

  As always in these sessions, Ayesha found that time became a meaningless concept. Sensation became everything.

  Sounds, tastes, smells, touch and sight.

  Conversations echoed around the stone dungeon amid the gasps, cries and whimpers of the slaves. Occasionally voices were raised in triumphant laughter as a particular effect was achieved on a body or a desired reaction was attained. Over those rose the crescendos of ascending, urgently breathless “ohs!” and “ahs!” as slavegirls were taken towards the jagged vortex of orgasm and pitched headlong in with cries of despairing ecstasy. Chains rattled and slithered, whips cracked on flesh, some softer, some louder, depending on the flogger’s intent. Crops and canes snapped, straps hit with echoing cracks.

  Ayesha’s mouth was soon redolent with the taste of male orgasm and then increasingly that became overlaid with a melange of female musk as the cocks she sucked were on their third or fourth ejaculation. It was a matter of pride with all the slaves that the sight of their bodies in dungeon sessions always hardened cocks up quickly.

  The scent of candles mixed with the smell of sperm, sweat and leather. Between her spread legs there was a steady stream of men announcing themselves only by the smooth roundness of their cock heads roughly thrusting into her followed by the roughness of the pubic hair against her vulva. There was the sticky feel of the sperm that had been shot over her as it mixed with the oil and sweat.

  And there were the sights.

  Between bouts of use, Ayesha increasingly let her head fall forwards. Below her, her breasts swung, robbed of their usual handsome roundness by the weights slung from the shining needles passed through her nipples, they were pulled into cruel cones. When she was beaten or fucked the chains swung and increased the pull, the weights clanking together musically as she orgasmed. On the floor was a pool of her mingled sweat and body oil. From between her legs, there was an almost constant outflow of sperm and her own juices. Beside her Miriam was a sight so exquisite that Ayesha could almost climax by watching her.

  Although time was meaningless, enough of it had passed for several procedures to have been followed on the slaves and Miram was a gloriously erotic sight.

  For some reason Ayesha found there was a lull in the attentions being paid to her and looked across. After some prolonged beating, which Ayesha had missed as she herself had been under the whip, pinches of her breastflesh had been pierced and the needles arranged in complicated patterns. Her nipples too had been p
ierced and the needles pulled up by weights slung over a bar above her. Then they had been hot waxed - as had her entire stomach. Her rich brown, gleaming skin was in places completely obscured by rough layers of red, yellow and green wax. Her strong, flat stomach was heaving as she panted for breath. Between her legs the prince was showing a guest how to achieve the best from her.

  “Here, hold this flap back like…..so,” he was saying. The two men were bent over the slave’s body and Ayesha could see they were concentrating on the clitoral hood. She caught a gleam of silver in his fingers and smiled as she saw her lover begin to gasp her way towards orgasm.

  “Oh, ow! Oh!” Miriam’s voice began to rise.

  “Now, when I hold this bit here, you push from there,” the prince continued calmly.

  Miriam’s body tensed and twisted in its bonds, her cries rose higher.

  “Now, one more push and it’s through.”

  “Aah!” Miriam froze rigid and trembled from head to foot, her scream dying into a sigh and Ayesha was able to see how her face went from a grimace of pain to a soft expression of serene contentment.

  “Now, my friend,” the prince said patting his guest on his naked shoulder. “She will fuck for you like a demon. Twist and pull the needle from time to time. It will jolt the clitoris into almost instant orgasm. And….” he said moving to Miriam’s head, “if she knows what’s good for her, she’ll suck me to heaven and back.”

  Ayesha just saw his long thin rod begin to sink between Miriam’s softly submissive lips, when she felt a hand in her hair and her head was wrenched up. A pair of balls, puckered tightly at the base of an impressively thick shaft confronted her and she began to lick immediately.

  Between her legs she felt a hand scoop some emission from her cunt and work it into her anus. She groaned in appreciation as she felt the unmistakably cold shape of a butt plug slide into her. She had been desperate for one all night and now…..yes…..! She summoned up all her strength to straighten her back a little as she felt the man begin to enter her, heightening her pleasure as the cock and the butt plug nudged, shifted and fought for space inside her. For a moment she was just a suspended, triple holed whore who existed for nothing more than the pleasure she could give the cocks inside her, the one she was now sucking properly was a real mouthful and worthy of her full attention. But then she was reminded that she had another purpose. Someone picked up a strap and began to thrash her already sore back. The sudden searing increase in the skin burn made her tense and jerk in her chains. The men cheered the flogger and to her immense delight the tempo and force of the beating increased even as the men began to increase the speed and depth of their thrusts.