Last Slave Standing Page 5

“Oh no. Please!” she murmured as she surrendered to her treacherous body and started to swivel her pelvis in response to the stimulation. Once she was adequately juicy, Carlo bent down and grasped the phallus which was mounted on pivots at the end of the Terminator’s piston then he pushed it into her, reached over to the wall socket and switched the machine on.

  “Give my slaves a good show Patti. We see if you want any more after an hour or so, eh?”

  “No! Oh god! Not that long!” Patti wailed in despair as the motor began to turn, mounted in its shiny chrome frame, and the flywheel revolved, thrusting and withdrawing the eccentrically mounted piston into and out of Patti’s helpless body.

  Almost immediately the prospect of being fucked into oblivion had her shuddering and moaning, her head was supported by a narrow flap hinged onto the top of the bench and Brian began to organise the slaves around it. He started with Blondie, positioning her so that she straddled her head groom’s upturned face, facing down the length of the pale body. Straightaway Patti began to lap eagerly between the blonde’s legs while Brian had her bend forwards so that she could nibble at Patti’s clitoris. Both women’s breasts squeezed outwards as the bodies settled into a sixty-nine and the relentless machine continued to fuck Patti.

  Anne Marie, still leading Tigre who still sported a huge strap-on which glistened with the secretions from Rose’s cunt, positioned her behind Blondie and while she held her anus wide open, Tigre shuffled forwards until the strap-on was lodged at the entrance. Then Brian landed two hefty swipes with a riding crop to the gypsy’s backside and she rammed herself into Blondie’s back passage. The blonde’s groans joined Patti’s increasingly shrill cries as the dungeon began to resonate to the sounds of debauchery.

  Blackie knelt before Raika’s spread legs and licked her out while the groom crotch whipped Legs, who had been thrown casually backwards across another bench. Helga was using a strap-on to fuck an ecstatic Jet who was in turn eating out Trouble. For once even Trouble’s normally jealous nature wasn’t causing any problems and beside her Ox had formed an impromptu sixty-nine with Rose. Carlo was taking Cherry doggy style and thrashing her with a strap as he rode her. Brian bent Tigre forwards and coated his cock in the juices that were pouring from the threesome in front of him before extracting screams and cries from all the participants as he thrust up into Tigre’s rectum and made her hammer all the harder at Blondie’s back passage so that she in turn chewed harder on Patti’s clitoris.

  One by one the different groups achieved their orgasms and cocks and strap-ons were removed. Exhausted participants gathered around Patti and watched as the Terminator drained the last of her strength and she was propelled to one last screaming climax, her body thrashing about on the bench, her teeth clenching in a rictus of agonised bliss and her raw throat subsiding into mere hoarse groans. Carlo turned the machine off and freed her shackles then the stable’s complement watched in amusement as she fell sideways, making no attempt to cushion her fall, just landing in a heap and groaning softly, then slowly her bottom lifted into the air enough to allow her hands to make their way down under her sweating body and cup her burning sex.

  “Come on, let’s get these lovely bitches back in their stalls!” Carlo called, as though Patti’s collapse had signalled the end of the celebrations.

  The slaves were shackled and bedded down as they were, cleaning and grooming could wait till the morning. But Brian discovered that in all the excitement Purdy had been left, still with the vibrator inside her. She was writhing and whimpering on her straw, desperate for someone to fuck her and finish her off. He obliged and then took Raika up to his rooms. It was late but he was sure that after such a good session at some time in the night he would need the Indian girl’s exquisite and ardent mouth. Carlo slung the semi-conscious Patti over his shoulder and took her to his rooms. Brian vaguely heard her demented cries as he was drifting off to sleep and knew that Carlo was forcing one final orgasm from her ecstasy-tormented body.

  Chapter 4

  “Am I going to be tongue ringed?” Ayesha asked softly.

  “And branded, yes. Tomorrow,” Brian answered, whispering as well while he chained her collar in her stall in the horse box. Nearly two weeks after her arrival, Patti’s diet, the Lodge’s kitchen and Raika taking her for gentle trots around the parklands between the shafts of one of the traps had worked their magic. Her figure had filled back out to its sensual best, her skin had healed well, although some yellowing bruises and a few scabs remained. Her hair shone once more and her big eyes were bright and intelligent again. But talking was a problem for Brian; he just wasn’t used to an arena slave who wasn’t purely a physical creature. He was looking forward to her being silenced.

  She seemed to savour the news and eventually gave him a sultry smile.

  “Does a ringed tongue feel good on your cock?”

  “Yes. And you call me ‘Master’”

  Ayesha tilted her head and her smile became flirtatious. “But I knew you as Brian once,” she said.

  “That was before I flogged you outside the Bakhtar arena. Those days are gone,” he told her sternly.

  Again she was silent for a second and her smile faded. “I’m glad the ring will improve my cock sucking, Master. I will serve the stable with all my strength. And I will gladly suffer whatever you want me to.”

  Brian could detect nothing but sincerity in her voice and her eyes remained demurely downcast.

  “Kneel up,” he told her gruffly and she obeyed, scrabbling in her straw with her feet until she knelt directly in front of him, her hands clipped behind her back, her eyes fixed on his groin. She clearly knew what had to be done. Brian reached down and freed his rapidly hardening shaft then held it for her while she took delicate licks at the helm, letting him enjoy the hors d’oeuvres before she settled down to giving him the main course. They both knew that in their meetings long ago when she was going to testify against Sir John, Brian had been desperate to have her where she was now and she had prick teased him mercilessly. It was a fitting farewell to their old relationship and Brian made no allowances when it came to spending into her. He held her tight against him and thrust as each spurt of sperm erupted exquisitely from his cock and he was impressed by the calmness and efficiency of her swallowing, she hardly choked at all and certainly didn’t spill a drop. He let her lick him clean afterwards and as he was tucking himself away she looked up at him for one last time.

  “I always did love sucking cock, Brian,” she said, deliberately.

  “I’ll flog you for that when we come home, and by then you’ll have been branded and tongue ringed. You’ll like that, won’t you?”

  “Yes, Master,” she whispered contentedly.

  It had been decided that Raika would stay behind and continue to tend Ayesha. She was considered responsible and experienced enough to be able to monitor her recuperation and continue her progress towards full arena fitness. Madame Stalevsky up at the big house was always available if necessary but Brian and Carlo both knew that for part of the time she would be busy helping a newly appointed doctor for the Housegirls settle in and therefore leaving a good groom to tend Ayesha would cause fewer problems in the long run. Once the stable returned from the Salazar arena, the new doctor would act as vet for the slaves. Amelia, Brian’s own submissive who served as a Housegirl whenever she could get away from her work, would accompany them in Raika’s place.

  The day after she was branded and ringed, Ayesha was moved into a proper stall as the horsebox would be needed to transport the rest of the stable to the airport. All ten would be crated up for the entire journey.

  Work started before dawn on the day of departure, the slaves all hated the crates more than anything and had been badly behaved from the first moment that Brian and Carlo had started fetching them down from the loft storage space the previous night. So no one was in a good mood as the slaves were taken out for toilet usage then washed and given a light feed before, one by one, they were put in a hogtie by Brian whil
e Carlo held them down and then lifted into the wire boxes with hinged fronts that would be their home for the entire journey. Patti clipped a bottle of water to the door of each crate as the men finished with each one and eventually two neat rows of five crates were stacked by the door and Brian could back the horsebox up so they could be loaded.

  Then with Patti, Amelia, Anne Marie and Helga in the back, Brian and Carlo set off in much improved spirits now that they were heading back into an arena. A medium sized cargo plane met them at a discreetly distant point of a small airport where John Carpenter’s writ obviously ran because no one bothered them as they transferred the crates with their fractious occupants and then hefted the heavy bags of tack onto the plane as well.

  The flight was long enough as it was but it was made even more tedious by the need to keep opening the crates in rotation and exercise the occupiers before allowing them use of a toilet with a groom in attendance. Carlo had Blondie once or twice, putting her head down and her arse upwards in a chair and taking her from behind. Anne Marie was made to kneel and lick her clean afterwards which afforded some light relief. When Brian became bored with the book he had brought to read, he had Purdy kneel in front of him and while he squeezed her big tits together he brought himself off between them.

  As was the custom on these flights the crew came back and made a selection from amongst the slaves and the grooms. As it happened all three crew members decided that Jet was what they needed, so the tall black girl spent some considerable time bent over the arm of one of the chairs while she was fucked from behind. Fortunately her crate was on the bottom row so it wasn’t too difficult to return her to storage and get her out again.

  It felt as though it was early evening when the plane landed and taxied again to a remote part of another airfield. But as the tailgate was lowered, there were some of Salazar’s men to greet them in the strong sun of mid morning and help unload the crates. And once the groaning cargo had been piled in the back, Brian and Carlo squeezed in beside the driver and with the rest of the men following in a car with the four women, they all lurched and roared southwards. Brian had dozed off when at last he was woken by the truck slowing and as he blinked sleepily he saw lights shining down from above massive steel gates and realised they had finally arrived.

  He sat up and looked around him as the truck growled its way along the straight and well tarmaced drives of the Salazar estate. He had clear and pleasant memories of the place. It was where he and Carlo had come to buy Trouble, Purdy and Raika.

  They skirted the lights of the main house and sped on towards where Brian knew the barracks and the arena itself were.

  The next hour or so was a blur of noise and confusion as they unloaded and settled the slaves in before they could themselves relax. They found they were housed in an airy, though reasonably warm open plan stable. The slaves were chained and slept on straw as at home but instead of stalls they were simply chained in a long line on a gently sloping platform. At its lower edge there was a gutter with a series of holes for use as toilets, this could be flushed by means of a hose, coiled up at the far end. Amelia, Patti and the grooms wrinkled their noses in distaste at the arrangements but as Carlo pointed out, “What’s it matter for a week or so?”

  Two of Salazar’s house slaves appeared with a steaming urn of food and ladled ample portions into a series of troughs along the wall opposite the sleeping quarters. Patti tasted it and pronounced it good so quite quickly the slaves were knelt and fed, helped to finish off the last remnants and then run through the showers which were in a separate room. They had to be towelled dry though and when they were all finally chained and settled under quilts for the night, Carlo, Brian and the girls were nearly dropping with tiredness. However the host stable was keen to meet them so they all had a long and sociable supper in the mess hall of the barracks before they could yawn their way up to their beds above the slaves’ quarters. At least Brian and Carlo did. Salazar’s guards decided that there was only one way to welcome the CSL grooms and as Brian said his goodnights, he could see Amelia with two up, one at each end, Patti was on her knees, her mouth full of cock and surrounded by admiring gauchos, Helga was bent over the table and taking a real pounding from behind while Anne Marie was forming a sandwich between two hefty guards and was clearly well on her way to the stars.

  The next morning, once breakfast had been served and basic grooming accomplished, Carlo allowed the slaves a morning’s rest but amused himself by caning the grooms for having been late to bed. Amelia glared at Brian as she bent over and flicked her little skirt up to receive the eight strokes they were all sentenced to.

  “Bastards didn’t finish screwing me till dawn! And I don’t like the way their spunk tastes down here either!” she whispered fiercely as he came to stand behind her and admire her pert little behind with its quivering pillows of soft buttock flesh. Beside her Patti was straightening up after Carlo had finished with her, her eyes were watering as she rubbed herself.

  “Why do I get the feeling that’s not the last punishment we’ll get before we load up to go home?” she complained.

  Carlo just laughed and moved on to cane Helga. Brian grinned behind Amelia’s upturned arse as he slashed in two quick, hard lashes and she fidgeted urgently. However, he knew that Carlo had a serious purpose behind the undeserved punishment. The grooms all needed to know that however strange things would seem over the coming days, there was one thing they could rely on; their masters’ discipline. Rules and procedures would be obeyed at all times by all females. Brian dealt out Amelia’s next six lashes in a steady rhythm, laying them on hard and pitilessly. She understood the reasoning perfectly and thanked him sincerely as she stood up, rubbing hard at her tramlines nonetheless. Alberto Salazar sent a carriage for them just before lunch time. His estate used four wheel, two seater carriages with a driver perched above the front wheels. The rig was pulled by two pony slaves with their arms crossed behind their backs and the crossbar and main shaft of the carriage strapped to thick belts at their waists. It was something of a show of his wealth of slave material that he could afford to use the carriages this close to a show but Carlo and Brian settled themselves into the leather seats and took comfort from the fact that they were there to back up so powerful a stable.

  “Senor Salazar say he wants you to have a guided tour before lunch,” their driver told them and then whipped up the ponies into a trot. The carriage lurched a few times and then settled into a steady speed as they pulled out from their block which in daylight they now saw stood about two hundred yards away from the quadrangle which formed the home team’s barracks. A quarter of a mile north of that stood the actual arena, where the visiting team would be housed, and the newly constructed circus stood a further quarter of a mile beyond that.

  The carriage took them into the courtyard in the centre of the home team barracks and then stopped. A tall, balding man stepped forwards and smiled broadly.

  “Hi, I’m glad to meet you,” he drawled in an unmistakably American accent. “My name’s Hank Manners. I’m Mr Salazar’s trainer and I’m glad to meet you both.”

  Hank took them on a quick tour of the barracks. Training hadn’t started yet and the squads were still in their dormitories while they digested their breakfasts. The buildings were simply and effectively designed. On each of the two floors a long corridor ran down the centre. At the far end were toilets and showers, on each side of the corridor were walls formed of iron bars with doors set in them at intervals, behind these were dormitories. Hank took them inside a couple of the long spartan rooms. There were simple rows of beds on which naked girls reclined until they heard the jangle of keys then they scrambled to their feet and stood with legs apart, hands behind backs and eyes cast down, by their beds as Hank entered.

  Brian and Carlo inspected the squad slaves minutely, and with Hank’s encouragement.

  “Hey, I want you guys to know your slaves are going in with some pretty good stock. We’re gonna win this one!” he said.

>   After half and hour or so, Carlo was happy to agree. Both he and Brian were impressed with the skin and muscle tone of the slaves and their obvious obedience. Deliberately they tweaked and squeezed nipples and breasts, trying to get a protest from any of the slaves. They rummaged their fingers hard in vagina after vagina but never provoked even the softest moan of pleasure, despite the warm moistness of their enthusiastic response to the explorations of their bodies.

  Brian remembered very clearly the main disciplinary tool of the Salazar stable; the dreaded ‘special’ and it had certainly produced a well drilled squad. The ‘special’ consisted of a girl being strapped with her back against a board out on the training ground. She was spread in the X shape and her breasts were bound in wet rawhide straps. Then she was left to wait as the hide dried and tightened around her breasts until they were swollen and shiny with constriction. Only then were they beaten.

  There was usually at least one ‘special’ administered every day, just to keep the slaves’ minds focused.

  “You wanna see how they take the whip?” Hank asked after Brian and Carlo had wandered through three of the dorms and assessed around forty naked and obedient slaves.

  “Sure. Thanks,” Carlo said. It was really the only thing left to reassure themselves about. “You want to check one of ours out?”

  Hank grinned disarmingly. “Hey, everyone knows CSL breeds ‘em tough,” he replied. “But, yeah, why not. It’ll encourage the guys to know what backup we’ve got for this show.”

  He pointed at a tall black-haired girl with the number 71 stencilled on her hip. “Take that one down and have her flogged till I say stop,” he told one of his guards. The girl padded forwards, eyes down but with her shoulders square and her back straight. Brian was impressed.

  The tour continued and they were shown the rooms on the ground floor where the slaves would be played with by those guests who could afford to hire them in the evenings. They even saw the kitchens busily clearing away after breakfast, before Hank led them back to the courtyard. From a short beam projecting horizontally from one wall the girl had been ankle suspended with her arms left free so that her entire length hung in front of the man administering the flogging. He stopped when they appeared and wiped some sweat from his eyes, in front of the men the girl’s body swung gently but she made no noise apart from heavier than usual breathing.