Naked Ambition
Page 10
Tony had been busy with his famous rope skills and had hung his sub up in a hog tie. Her wide eyes stared anxiously into the darkness above the ball gag that stretched her jaws. Her long, shiny black hair had been plaited and was tied to a rope that Amelia guessed was connected to an anal hook, keeping her back arched. From between thick bands of rope her breasts managed to squeeze out and chains running from nipple clamps ran down to an oil lamp, a third supporting chain ran down from a clit clamp. Eve was protected from the heat by the lamp’s steel lid, but Amelia could imagine the chains might get a bit warm.
On the table was a collection of clip boards, sheets with numbers and schematics of the arena and the pony track, together with lists of events; mostly the competitors’ numbers hadn’t been filled in. The pens, pencils, highlighters and other implements were stored in the upturned cunt of an ankle suspended slave held tight against the wall of the house behind the table. Amelia’s belly melted and she tried to rub her thighs together. She adored the way the arenas exploited every inch of the available girlflesh for its own – and the public’s – entertainment. There were very few women who were exempt and one of them was on the sofa at the left hand end of the veranda.
Sadia reclined with one leg on the floor and other raised onto the cushion beside her. She had been wearing a wrap which was now thrown wide open and with her dark head tipped back, she was gently playing with her own ringed nipples while between her legs, another slave was busily tonguing her. Amelia was surprised by the rings. She had been played with up at the big house only a week or two before and there had definitely not been rings then. Amelia licked her lips fondly in recollection. There was the hollow noise of heels on the wooden floor of the house and Angel appeared in the doorway. She held a tall glass with a drink and ice cubes in it. She used a finger to stir it and sucked it dry between her full lips as Amelia looked at her in total admiration. Her thick blonde hair was loosely tied back in the heat and she wore a simple white shirt dress. It was loose above her waist but even so, Amelia could see her unfettered breasts swing and tremble against it as she walked. Below the belt it was a tight and short skirt that left the long tanned thighs naked almost to their tops. Amelia’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of being allowed to kneel and explore beneath it. The fragrant and silky-soft lips of the cunt were so close!
“Thanks for bringing it, Josef. You can leave it there,” Angel said.
Josef’s heavy tread receded into the distance and for a moment the only sound was Sadia groaning in pleasure and the endless chirruping and calling from the forest.
Angel turned slightly towards Tony.
“It’s odd to think of them having names. What did you say this one’s was?” she asked.
“Amelia,” Tony told her and Amelia found herself blinking as if her name being spoken had woken her up.
“Amelia,” Angel repeated, seeming to taste the name. “Well come over here and…..oh, of course you can’t speak. But you can understand and nod or shake your head, can’t you?” She said the last words in exaggeratedly slow fashion, as if talking to a child. Amelia nodded and followed the spectacular buttocks, joggling seductively under the tight skirt, over to the table. Tony came and joined them.
Over on her sofa, Sadia shifted her hips a little farther forwards and pushed the slave’s head further down.
“I’ll just have her rim me for a bit and then I’ll join you,” she called over. Angel smiled and shook her head in mock frustration.
“Now…….Amelia,” Angel said. “The Orange mob together with persons unknown, we suspect, have hired in every big hitter CSL’s got. I’ve hired in what’s left and we’ve got to make the best of things. Anything that isn’t a massacre will be a win of sorts. Understand?”
Amelia nodded again. Her mind was racing now and it wasn’t a welcome feeling. She loved being just a body to be placed where others wanted it for their pleasure. To be thrust back into the world of trainers and their concerns was not at all what she desired, and yet part of her was responding. She knew both CSL and the Girl Squad intimately. No one else here did. She felt the old spark that had burned when she and Brian and Carlo had sat up late with clients, deciding how best to dispose of the slaves, suddenly re-ignite despite herself.
Angel took a clipboard and pointed to a list of events under Day One.
“They only flew their bitches in today so they won’t be using them for dressage on the first evening. So let’s start with the first full day.” Suddenly she threw the board down in frustration. “I can’t believe I’m doing this! Trying to talk sense to a cunt on legs! She’s just whip fodder for Chrissake……She probably can’t understand a word I’m bloody saying!”
Part of Amelia hoped that she would send her back to the stockade. She didn’t want this any more than Angel did. On the other hand part of her raged at the woman’s stupidity. She could help the squad!
Tony moved round to stand behind her and unclipped her wrists.
“She’s no fool, Angel. Trust her,” he said quietly.
Sadia sauntered up behind Angel, fastening the belt on her wrap and put an arm round Angel’s shoulders. Angel shrugged and turned back to the table, wrenching a pen out of its cunt holder. A gag-muffled grunt came from beneath the table.
“Right! First off we’ve got a whip melee in the arena. Twenty squaddies on each team. I’m going to put Thirty-three, Nineteen, Seventeen, Two and Forty-eight in with
Cherry, Sam, Lucky and Purdy, then make up the rest with these…..” She pointed at a list and Amelia ran her eyes over it.
She thought of who the Orange team would put in; Ox, Trouble, Fiji, Ayesha……they probably wouldn’t put Blondie in this early…….They didn’t need to.
Suddenly she swept some of the sheets aside and picked up the schedule for Day Two.
She put the sheet next to Day One and pointed to the contests in the pens and the racing. Then she pointed to the CSL names. She grabbed a pen and circled some Girl Squad numbers and drew an arrow from them to the events in the arena.
“What the hell’s it doing?” Angel demanded.
“Wait!” Sadia ordered. Amelia’s brain was racing and she didn’t hear the imperious tone nor see Angel’s lips tighten in anger.
On Day Two she began to scribble names against the racing and solo whip duelling. Then she moved on to the chariots, her hand struggling to keep up with her thoughts. The Orange team would expect the Girl Squad to put up their best against the CSL talent and that meant they thought they would deploy the talent that they, the Girl Squad, had hired in. Amelia was setting out to avoid those confrontations at all costs. She knew there was talent in Sadia’s stable, and she knew that there were surprises in the younger CSL members.
Let the Orange team win the melees in the arena - perhaps. Let them win the log pulling. Let them think they could walk away with the studded whip duels. Let them think the pursuit running was theirs for the taking.
She defied convention and scribbled in the CSL girls for contests in the pens and not the arenas. There they could knock the heart out of the Orange squad in the boxing, the wrestling and the whip duelling. In the pens a girl could take a lot more punishment going down to defeat than in the arena. There, once she was down, the referees scored against her immediately and she was out of it. In the pens, the crowd liked a good slow show and defeat was longer in coming.
She piled on the possible problems for the Orange team by adding in those Girl Squad members that could more than hold their own. The crowds would demand heavier punishments for slaves who didn’t appear to put up a good fight in the pens than in the arenas. The thumbs would stay down until the tally went up to forty, fifty or more lashes sometimes. That would slow them down for assault course running and log pulling on Day Two. With luck it might mean the withdrawal of some chariot racers.
“You’re suggesting we pile on the pressure where we can and let them win what they’re going to anyway?” Tony asked as her hand flew from list to list.
“She’s good. We’ll put her in for the studded whips.”
Amelia nodded assent, trying to ignore the way Angel’s breasts shifted and swung as she leaned forwards. She concentrated and then put her own number down for the studded whips. Then drew a line to Blondie.
“You sure, Amelia? I mean yes, they’re bound to play Blondie there. But why you?” Tony asked. Amelia shrugged helplessly, she had had an idea but it didn’t conform to a nod or shake of the head reply.
“But you and Seventy-six are a good bet for at least a couple of two-in-hand races. But not if you’re cut to ribbons by her!” Tony protested.
Amelia drew the line again, firmly.
“Hang on,” Angel said, looking suddenly thoughtful. “She’s being a very definite little bitch.” She put a hand on Amelia’s shoulder and turned her to look at her. “Do you know something we don’t?”
Amelia nodded hard. She wasn’t a hundred percent sure but she knew the big blonde as well as anyone. And she knew Carlo too. Angel looked at her for a second more and Amelia got the impression that she understood what it was that Amelia knew.
As it turned out it was a long night.
Once they accepted her strategy, they made the best selection they could for the pens. Then they turned to the arenas and tried to restrict the probable Orange victories. They had to guess which slaves the opposition would put up but it was odds on they’d use what they’d paid so heavily for, in the arenas, so with Amelia’s knowledge to complement and fine tune Angel’s and Tony’s they refined their selection of ‘the best of the rest’ of the Girl Squad. And Angel had come up with some novel strategies to complement the selection of competitors. Amelia was relieved because it would have taken her hours to write it all out.
But at the end, when Eve had wriggled and cried out above them, making the light dance and flicker and Tony had taken the lamp down, the consensus was that they’d sacrificed as little as possible while giving themselves a fighting chance. The younger CSL cohort would get a chance to shine against Orange squad opposition instead of competing with fighters they already knew. It could be the making of them.
Angel summed it up as Josef clumped back up the steps and Tony clipped Amelia’s wrists together again.
“Downhill and with a following wind, we’ve got a chance of making the third day a real contest.”
Just as Josef stepped off the veranda, Amelia heard the sound of the crop being plied on the long suffering girl tied to the railing. It should have filled her with envy, but her mind was still racing and wouldn’t stop. Had they made the best use of the American blonde; number Eighty-four? Was Sam, Purdy, Legs, Sixty-four and Thirteen the best team for the pursuit running?
Even when Josef used the hand he was steadying her with on his shoulder, to feel between her legs, it took him a few moments to moisten her.
When he put her down by the building that housed the pens and shoved her to her knees, she was grateful to be put back in her rightful place. A place where obedience was all and she was just a slaveslut. Josef’s cock reared in front of her face as he freed it from his trousers. The light was dim, just some low powered lamps shining from the walls of the pens and some fitful moonlight but she could see the broad dome of his helm glistening, beckoning to her lips and her tongue.
But this could not be a long and sensual fellation. Sexual contact with any of the girls prior to the games was forbidden and she knew that Josef was taking a big risk; in fact she was flattered that carrying her had inflamed him this much.
He reached forwards and took her hair. She just had time to open her mouth wide enough and then he had stuffed himself fully inside. She was too well trained to gag and kept her throat relaxed, loving how his shaft filled every inch of her and touched her so deep inside. She was looking forward to being allowed to make love to Seventy –six again but the next few days of mainly male use was to be savoured nonetheless.
Having pulled her so violently against him that her nose was tickled by his pubes, Josef sighed in relief at having his cock in a woman again and allowed his grip to slacken enough to let Amelia work her mouth backwards and forwards along the hard, ribbed shaft under its smooth skin, his helm still shafting her throat at maximum penetration. However, he couldn’t risk discovery and in only a few moments was fucking her face with all his strength, anxious to spill his load and get on with delivering her. Amelia knew better than to try and fight the battering she was taking as he plunged in and out. She let herself be controlled by the hands in her hair and enjoyed the feeling of being used so carelessly. The feel of his cock travelling in and out of her mouth, the feel of the head in her throat, the wait for his explosion and the strength of his control, all conspired to ignite her own loins again and by the time she felt him swell and redouble his efforts to fuck her senseless, she was desperate for some relief herself. The sperm, when it came, was thick and delicious as it spurted furiously into her and she had to swallow as fast as she could to keep up with it. Josef lifted her up as soon as he had tidied himself but she whimpered as he did so and he stopped, put her down and looked into her eyes.
“Alright!” he said, not unkindly. “Angel kill me if she sees me, but get your legs open!”
Eagerly she obeyed and felt his big, rough hand slide between her thighs, the coarse, hard skin of his fingers sending tingles right through her as it sandpapered over her clitoris before sliding into her molten hole, stretching its sides as he added a third finger to the two he had originally put in. He twisted them and she couldn’t help making a soft yelp as she was stretched even further.
“Ssh! Stupid bitch!” he growled, but he slowed down his assault and in a few seconds was able to work four fingers inside her. Her legs trembled and her breath rasped as she tried to control the mounting crisis inside her but a moan bubbled out as he began to pump his hand up and down. Using his free hand he reached for her head and buried her face in his shirt to muffle her cries as he thrust, thrust, paused and then thrust again in response to her spasms. She let out a guttural growl as the orgasm drained from her and his hand was withdrawn. He let her get her breath back before hoisting her up once more and taking her back to her barracks.
“Stupid bitch!” he whispered cheerfully. “You get plenty fucking soon enough.”
With her head banging gently against his back as he walked, Amelia happily accepted the truth of his remark. She felt relaxed and fulfilled in the post orgasm lethargy.
But most importantly, she was back where she belonged.
Chapter Ten
In the old days, as she thought of them, although it had only been about three years in reality, the arena stables had been small enough to display their stock in wonderfully erotic and inventive ways before an event. Amelia still remembered attending her first show at the Bakhtar arena and seeing the slaves in X shaped suspension so that their fitness and condition could be assessed by the crowds before bets were placed.
Their bodies had been beautifully decorated, some with armbands and necklaces of gold filigree, some with heavier bronze adornments pinned to their nipples and navels. On this occasion though, the host stable had clearly decided on a mass market approach. Amelia and her squad were herded into the long building she had seen the night before and put in two pens.
The pens were made of slender steel poles that stretched up to the roof but the pen itself was open to the elements. Only the terraced seating sloping up on both sides in two long banks and at either end was under cover. There were six of the pens, all well separated, standing in a row down the centre of the building. The CSL slaves and the Girl Squad’s solo fighters were taken away and out of the far end of the building. Amelia thought they would be displayed somewhere else where the public could get close to them as their fewer numbers made it easier to display them intimately. For the squads ther
e was only a press of about fifty of them in each pen. Once they were shut in, they saw the Orange squad being penned just along from them and for a few moments the two squads assessed each other, then gradually they relaxed and sat down on the bare, still-damp earth, lounging against the bars of the pens. However, some of the guards, equipped with cattle goads came round and in shrill angry voices urged them up, threatening them with the wicked prongs. Then the paying public was allowed in.
A multi-coloured and brilliant crowd surrounded the cages in seconds. Hands pawed at the girls through the bars and voices shouted at them in various languages and they shrank together into a huddled mass in the centre of the cage. But the guards forced their way through and gesturing with the cattle goads, urged the girls to spread out and allow the hands to grope them.
Amelia knew that this was standard practice at arenas and had been through it before but not quite on this scale of humiliation. But once she had decided she didn’t want to try the cattle prods, standing by the bars with Seventy-six pressed close against her, had a masochistic thrill all its own.
The conversations beyond the bars seemed to be in every conceivable language apart from English, which rather emphasised the animal-like status of the English speaking slaves. The hands and arms that stretched through were not interested in any sexual groping, they were purely assessing muscle tone and amounts of fat carried. Amelia couldn’t recall ever having her breasts mauled in such a remote and non sexual manner, but somehow that added to its thrill and before long the pen was richly scented with the arousal of the milling, naked slaves. It seemed to go on for hours before people drifted away and the squads were herded back to their stockades to wait for the opening parades.