by Sean O'Kane
Patti held her hands out, palm first in an appeasing gesture. “It’s alright, sir. It’s just that…..well……you know those rings and that heavy tag you put on her…..”
“Yes?”
“Well, sir, we can all see the gold between her legs when she bends down now, and that tag keeps swinging and……..”
Carlo growled at her to get to the point.
“Well, she keeps getting shagged more than anyone else and well, why can’t we all be ringed and tagged too. I mean it’s not fair………”
Down in the slave pen beneath the two men, two female boxers wearily slugged it out under the late afternoon sun. The heavy leather corsets and thongs, studded on the insides made their movements slow as the contest neared an end as one boxer got two straight jabs in to her opponent’s breasts.
Conor Brien stood up to applaud as the girl went down and the victor held up her hand for a whip with which to punish the loser. Beside Conor, Mark Cavanagh slung one down and the two men walked away at a relaxed stroll.
“Conor, I’ve got to ask; we lost a fortune on that Last Slave Standing but you never batted an eyelid. And I know you well enough to know you don’t like losing.”
Conor laughed. “I didn’t lose anything. Okay I didn’t win either but I covered my losses.”
“How?”
“I bet on Blondie as well.”
He laughed again at the sight of Mark’s shocked expression.
“I had a few people putting money on in lots of places. Not enough to shorten the odds any more, but enough to cover the outlay we put on Snake.”
“But why?”
“Did I ever tell you the full story of how I found that blonde?”
Mark shook his head.
“I spent weeks sizing her up and on the day I made my move I took her out to dinner and we fancied each other something rotten, in the end I challenged her to a shagging competition – to see which of us could last longest. Jeez! I tell you that beauty could fuck the sun down and the moon up. I never thought I’d say it, but she had me on my knees! If she had asked to go one more time, I’d have given in. Me! Give in to a girl! But it was that close. If she had asked for one more fuck, she would have been a free woman now.
“Funny to think of that. Anyway as it was I left her for a couple of the guys to bring in and she’s always hated me.” He shrugged. “Beats me why but I’ve learned not to bet against her too heavily; no matter what.”
He paused and looked around at the barracks, where the windows were beginning to shine out into the dusk, and the deserted arena and the training ground where Blondie had learned her trade. It was funny to think about it now. If she had asked him to fuck her one more time, she would never have been brought here and there would be no Blondie; no Queen of the Arena. He wondered if she ever had any inkling of how close she had come to making him let her walk away free.
Probably not.
And it didn’t matter anyway.
Conor Brien shrugged again and walked on, Mark walked beside him, thoughtful. “I want that dressage team flogged every day till they get the new moves right. Tell Gerd to start in on them tomorrow……..”
The two men moved away into the rapidly deepening dusk. A slight breeze stirred the straps hanging from the whipping posts as they crossed ground that had been packed down by hundreds of girls learning the moves that would entertain the crowds.
Behind them the bulk of the arena loomed against the azure sky. It was dark and silent now, but it seemed to crouch, as if waiting impatiently for its next feed of slaves and for the crowds to assemble for the next three day display of suffering, combat and sex, their appetite for naked slave flesh as inexhaustible as it had ever been.
THE END
