by Sean O'Kane
Angel shrugged and grinned without embarrassment, then held out her hand as she stepped back to invite the woman in.
“I’m Angela Smythe. Most call me Angel.”
“Hi, I’m Chrissie. I’m also vet to the CSL stable.”
As soon as the arenas and stables entered the conversation, the ice was broken and Angel dressed while they spoke of training regimes, injuries, cures and the scandalous price of slaves just now.
When Angel had booked her room, the girl she had spoken to had warned her that dinners were formal affairs at The Lodge and so she had come prepared and slipped a little black number over just a thong. It was knee length and quite modestly high at the neckline. Neither woman had been the slightest bothered by Angel’s almost complete nudity as she dressed; Chrissie only commenting, “Hmm! Nice tits!” when Angel had shrugged off the short wrap.
Now she stepped into a pair of outrageously high-heeled designer sandals and Chrissie nodded approvingly.
“Now, before we go down, let me tell you which women are available to you and which are off limits.”
Angel was all ears.
“I’m afraid you can’t use the Housegirls unless a member expressly gives you permission. Whether the girl is directly owned by the club or on loan from her owner while he’s in residence, the members pay for them and have owner’s rights. However, you can use a pony and I’ll take you for a drive around the grounds tomorrow before you get down to work.”
Angel was fine with that.
“With CSL it’s different. You’re hoping to hire some stock, so feel free to play with the slaves or the grooms as you please. No whipping outside of training for the slaves who’ve been booked unfortunately, they’re in strict run-up now for the next games. But the grooms are gorgeous! I’ve got sort of ownership of one of them, and believe me they can take all the play you’ll want to dish out!”
“Sounds good to me! But what’s all this about the split skirts on the Housegirls? It sounds perfectly fair but I don’t understand why the rule’s there in the first place.”
“Ah! When The Lodge was set up, Madame Stalevsky who trains and organises the Housegirls, didn’t want them being fiddled with while they were doing domestic work. But John Carpenter who owns the whole thing – you’ll meet him at dinner – wanted them available so he had the slit put in and to pacify Madame with the compromise, if any girl is caught being played with, she gets the beating and the member pays a small fine. That way everyone’s happy.”
Dinner was quite simply superb. She and Chrissie sat at John Carpenter’s table with Carlo Suarez and his two assistants, Brian and Tony. Over the soup and fish – a fillet of Sea Bass, simply, yet exquisitely prepared and presented – talk of the arenas flowed easily. Carlo was a burly man, not much taller than herself, whose shoulders threatened to burst his dinner jacket.
He was a legend in Angel’s world, the man who had trained Blondie – the most famous of all gladiatrices, and somehow, Angel’s squad was going to have to face her at the Orange team’s arena. Her two opposite numbers, Brian and Tony were polite and helpful but the Housegirls, leaning over the diners to provide or remove courses, were a constant source of distraction. Their breasts so nearly on blatant display…..but not quite.
Carlo leaned across to her at one point, when her lambs’ livers with melted onion had been served and the girl’s breasts had brushed her bare shoulder.
“Don’t worry. In the Common Room afterwards, you can enjoy yourself. And if you want me to send a groom over later…..” He grinned and left the sentence hanging.
“Thank you Carlo. I think I might need to take you up on that,” she replied and lifted a glass of a light Rousillon Villages to him.
The Common Room was on the first floor and was vast. In here, any girl, even if she had been booked for bedroom service was fair game. A member who wanted to play with a girl in relative peace, could take her to one of the dungeons.
For Angel it was a mixed blessing. There were wonderful pieces of bondage furniture and racks upon racks of implements to use on the compliant flesh available. The men were unfailingly polite and invited her on several occasions to discipline this or that girl, hung in a frame or bent backwards over a bench.
Her demonstration of breast beating was warmly received; a naked blonde was shackled for her – the Housegirls’ dresses were quickly shed with the use of one zip – and she was able to explain how, by taking one’s time and varying the target of the beating, a sub could be kept at boiling point for a very long time, until she was tearfully begging for an orgasm. Once she had driven the blonde to that point, she surprised her audience by abandoning the whip, a sturdy flogger, and instead simply grabbing the girl’s nipples and twisting, pulling and pinching them simultaneously. The resultant yell of combined agony and orgasmic release, temporarily hushed the entire room, before enthusiastic applause took over.
Smiling, she resumed her seat with Carlo, Chrissie and the rest of the party for liqueurs. The naked girlflesh was delectable but some of the men it was submitting to Angel found less than attractive. So on one hand the sight of a kneeling girl with her mouth wide open to encompass an impressive erection, was pleasant enough for her but on the other, the sight of the man to whom the erection belonged, rather deflated her arousal. She could take men like Brian, Carlo and Tony – fellow athletic dominants, but not some of the others.
When she decided to call it a day in order to have a clear head for the next day, she gratefully accepted Carlo’s offer of sending across a groom called Helga.
She undressed quickly and slid under the quilt in the dark, lying quietly and just idly teasing her clitoris as she waited for the girl. At last there was a soft knock at the door and when she answered, the girl slid in.
“Mistress? I’m Helga and Carlo told me I’m yours tonight.”
Angel propped herself up on one arm.
“Get your clothes off and eat my pussy!” she ordered.
There was a rustling in the dark and then Angel felt the warmth of another body slide in beside her. It was quite a turn on to realise she didn’t even know what the girl looked like. She was just a body to be used for her pleasure. Her nose caught a hint of perfume and soap as the girl started to wriggle down the bed to service her.
The evening had left her on the edge of release and just a few licks on her clitoris made her come.
After that her hands explored a body which had breasts of quite adequate size with long, rather slender nipples and narrow hips. However, her cunt was extremely elastic and Angel was able to fist her after only a few minutes’ penetration with her hand. She orgasmed with pretty little cries and whimpers. In the dark it came as something of a surprise for Angel to discover that the girl was branded. Her fingers traced out a rectangle on her hip within which were the letters CS and L. Helga murmured proudly and contentedly as her Mistress for the night traced the outlines and admired the brand.
Angel made her go down on her again and had her sleep between her spread legs so that she could continue first thing in the morning.
She slept deeply and woke to see the sun already shining through the heavy curtains. Between her spread thighs was a delightful tickling sensation from where Helga’s hair lay on her thighs. She gave the girl a gentle kick and sighed as, without any demur, she got down to licking her cunt out all over again.
When she had dismissed the girl, Angel showered, dressed in her jeans and shirt and went down to breakfast.
She felt slightly more at home after the previous night and when the waitress brought her croissants to her table she availed herself of the split in the back of her dress and felt her way into a very moist cunt. The buttocks were markedly ridged she noted as she withdrew her fingers and wiped them on her bottom.
“You in the dungeons last night?” she asked.
“Yes, Madam,” the girl replied. Angel looked at her more closely and noted the dark rings beneath the eyes. The girl smiled at her and left.
The same
girl served her coffee and Angel repeated her explorations, this time taking time to stimulate the clitoris as well as the vagina. The girl’s hips began to rock in response and Angel looked around to see if anyone was going to notice and stop her, but there was no one and she kept the frigging up until a long groan escaped the girl and Angel let her go.
She was licking her fingers and savouring the mixture of tastes with the coffee when Chrissie arrived.
They shared a sociable meal while around them the men ate, planned their day and some reserved girls for playing with later by attaching disks with their room number on them to their collars.
“I thought we’d go for a drive while they’re getting the slaves mucked out, washed and fed over at CSL,” Chrissie said, then added with a smile, “besides you can’t get too much of driving a good pony!”
Angel couldn’t have agreed more and the two women strolled out via the front door and around to the side of the house and the stableyard. Two perfectly presented rigs awaited them and Angel saw a pretty, Asian girl brushing out one of the ponies’ hair. She was dressed in a short kilt with a blouse knotted up underneath her breasts, it was the same uniform that she had seen Helga dress in hurriedly when she had been dismissed earlier that morning. Attractive, and it presented very little difficulty for someone wanting to investigate beneath the clothes.
The girl looked over at them and smiled widely, then stood back respectfully as they came closer. Beside Angel, Chrissie suddenly seemed to pull herself together and become much more positive and assertive. She strode forwards and began to inspect the ponies.
Angel noted the pretty Indian groom looking nervous and began to see what was going on. She smiled as she watched Chrissie testing the tightness of the cruppers and the correct alignment of the girths, adorned with The Lodge’s crest in chromium on the front, where it widened to cover the stomach. She pulled on the bits to make sure they had been pushed securely to the backs of their mouths before the bridles had been buckled on. She looked at their backs to check on the girth buckles and found that she could slip her fingers between one pony’s skin and the leather of the girth.
She turned to Angel triumphantly.
“Daft little tart always gets one detail wrong! Raika! Come here you useless slut!”
The Indian girl darted forward, her huge, expressive eyes clouded with concern.
“You’ve embarrassed me in front of my friend here with your sloppiness. Go and get a crop so I can thrash you!”
Dropping the slight curtsy that the short kilt would allow, the girl scuttled away.
“That the one you sort of own?” Angel asked.
“Yes. Long story. But what a lovely piece of arse!”
Angel had to agree when the girl returned and was immediately bent over a hitching rail; her arms extended on each side along the bar. Chrissie stepped forwards and lifted the short skirt, tucking it in to its own waist band to keep it out of the way. The coffee coloured buttocks were smooth and deliciously round and pert, with no sign of a crease at the tops of the silky thighs. And when she shuffled her legs apart, Angel felt a tide of hot moisture at her groin as she saw the dusky little purse of the neatly lipped cunt.
Chrissie wasted no time and cracked in a telling lash almost as soon as the groom had gone down. It was plainly a common occurrence in the yard because no one batted an eyelid at the sharp report of leather on skin.
Angel was impressed, Chrissie hadn’t flicked; the groom had taken a full swing and the doctor had followed through fully as well, flattening the buttocks and sending a delicious shock wave through the flesh, even of the upper thighs. The groom gave no more than a hiss through gritted teeth and took two more with no more reaction.
Chrissie offered Angel the crop as the girl made no move to rise.
“Feel free,” she said and Angel willingly stepped up to the mark behind the exquisite arse. She smiled.
The girl’s submissiveness was obvious – and her Mistress had known exactly how to trigger it, by offering her up for punishment on a whim. Angel had no compunction in taking full advantage of the offer and thoroughly enjoyed adding another three crisp, buttock-rippling strokes to Raika’s tally.
It was the perfect warm up for their whip arms.
As they climbed in and settled themselves, Chrissie explained that the ponies were from the stock of Housegirls, all of whom served from time to time in harness.
“But don’t conclude they’re all docile because of it. Some of them like to express a rebellious side between the shafts.”
Angel smiled and examined the back of the pony she was now seated behind. The shoulders were broad and the back was shapely. The hips wide and the legs quite long. She wouldn’t have minded betting that this beast would give a good ride anywhere –and once again she felt a tide of warm moisture at her belly.
In front of her the pony stamped her sandal-shod foot and as Angel gathered up the reins she ducked and twisted her head, pulling impatiently.
“Ah! Did Carlo tell you to give me the liveliest one in the stable?” she called across to Chrissie, smiling broadly.
“Now that’d be telling!” the doctor called back cheerfully and with a quick flick of her whip, tongue-clicked her pony up.
Angel tugged hard on the reins and brought the pony’s head up before lashing it back and forehand across the buttocks.
The pony started off but was plainly skittish, shaking her head and prancing as she headed across the cobbles to follow Chrissie through an archway and out into the park. She dragged one wheel of the trap against a corner as they entered the arch and jolted the rig quite harshly. Angel whipped her again and the pony skittered sideways, her sandals’ scraping and clopping echoing loudly against the stone walls of the short tunnel. Angel pursed her lips as she dragged the pony’s head to face the direction of the road again and waited till they were out in the fresh air. Then she reined in with brutal force and swung the driving whip back and forth across the buttocks while holding her reins tightly.
The pony squealed through her bit and tossed her head as Angel smacked the whip cord home against her back and shoulders; she didn’t stop until the pony was fully cowed and subdued and Angel was panting from the exertion of thrashing her.
Chrissie had stopped and had turned to watch over her shoulder, smiling broadly as Angel gathered herself, swept a stray lock of hair off her forehead and tongue-clicked the penitent pony forwards once more.
“Actually Carlo’s instructions,” she told Angel as she brought her rig alongside at a leisurely walk, “were to make sure you got an enjoyable mount!”
Angel laughed and looked at her pony’s lividly striped buttocks rippling as she walked.
“I’ll thank him myself,” she said and flicked the pony up to a trot.
The day was fine and the two women spent a relaxing hour trotting along tracks that criss crossed the golf course before the golfers had really got started and they met Brian coming the other way at the fourteenth. In contrast to themselves he had his pony at full stretch, the rig’s wheels rumbled on the dry ground and the driving whip smacked and curled high in the air above the sweat-streaked slave’s back.
When he saw them he reined in so harshly the pony’s feet nearly went from under her as she leaned back against the weight, tossing her head and spraying lather and sweat. At the last moment, he yanked her head round to the right and the rig did a little skid as it came to a halt.
Angel was impressed by the driving skill and by the toughness of the pony but recognised male antler rattling when she saw it and kept her face neutral.
“Good morning!” Brian called out as his pony champed at her bit and stamped in irritation at having her run interrupted.
“Which one’s this?” Angel asked, unable to identify the pony from behind the heavy blinkers and bridle, although she had studied the CSL brochure online.
“This is Legs,” Brian told her, stroking her back with the tip of the driving whip and making her shudder with what Angel r
ecognised as the mingled fear and lust a slave should feel towards her owner. “She’s coming on well. Just needs a bit of toughening up.”
“Don’t flay her too much, I might need her if she’s not been booked!” Angel reminded him.
“Nah!” Brian grinned. “She’ll be fine! See you at the yard.”
He hauled the pony backwards a few prancing steps and then whipped her away, lashing her on with undiminished fervour.
Chrissie and Angel watched him go, admiring the speed and smoothness of the pony’s gait, despite pulling a heavy, male driver.
As Brian’s whip continued to play as it faded into the distance, Angel gave her own shiver of suppressed lust. There was so much deliciously submissive girlflesh on view and so little was available to her. It was not normal for her.
“Don’t worry, we’ll get you something a bit special to play with before the day’s out!” Chrissie called as they resumed their rather more stately pace.
Chapter Four
Sadia stepped into the air conditioned, leather scented luxury of the car sent for her and sat back as it pulled away.
“Join me for dinner with some friends and we can discuss your stable’s needs,” Eric had said. She had outlined the problem to him on the phone once she had checked into the hotel and he had seemed oddly unsurprised and quite affable. Normally he winced audibly at the mention of any more outlay at all.
But she expected she would be able to handle him alright. She always had up till now and she smiled as she glanced down and smoothed the crisp linen of her skirt across her thighs, just a few, but tactically so important, inches above her knees. Her legs were long and shapely in any case but she had pampered them deliberately over the previous few days.
It had taken her a day or two to recover from the president’s office but now she felt she was ready for whatever Eric could do to her vagina. The dear man was so eager! He practically salivated if she so much as crossed her legs. But it was so much fun watching him make a slave suffer while she and Angel made love – his infatuation had its advantages! She stretched with pleasure as she recalled the way Angel’s cunt gushed with fragrant juices while Eric made a slave squeal and cry out. But on the few occasions she had allowed him to fuck her, he hadn’t been too bad. So really, as long as Angel didn’t have to watch, she didn’t think the evening would throw up anything untoward.
