Lost Property (11 page)

The last pony was a Scandinavian looking blonde who towered over her stable mates and was almost as tall as Blondie.

Anything could happen in a final, especially as the points in the arena were so close and Carlo and the two N’Benga team drivers had decided on a different strategy. As soon as the starting pistol fired, Carlo really let the whip loose on Blondie. The big blonde reared in shock as the lash wrapped her breasts, time after time, but she got the message and surged off up the straight and into the first turn, her feet throwing up the dust in small clouds behind her. After a few minutes Carlo eased off and glanced up a screen, he was well clear of the field and he intended to stay there. He knew Blondie was happier in the thick of the action but there was too much at stake where a stray foot or a lash from a rival driver could see her flat on her face. As he steered out onto the big circuit again he saw Blondie’s back sweat-gleaming again and grimly promised she would sweat a lot more before he let the gathering vultures in the crowd see her fail.

“Coming to the first corner of the big circuit and Blondie looks to ha
ve an unassailable lead; maybe seven or
eight lengths clear of Orient in second, Dawn Light in third, Melon in fourth with Ash and Turkish Delight bringing up the rear!”

Carlo didn’t spare the whip up the hill and Blondie dug her feet into the dirt and managed to extend her lead by the time they made the level ground. Carlo let her coast for a while and then when they got to the downhill zig zags he took it steadily, hoping that one or more rigs might come to grief in their haste to try and catch up.

“
Blondie is cruising the downhill section, Orient and Dawn Light are blocking Melon who’s trying to force her way round the outside of the left hander! She’s down! Melon’s a faller at the zig zags! Ash and Turkish Delight are past her so it’s down to two for the N’Benga stable!”

Carlo heard the commentary and looked up at a screen as they passed the stadium, in slow motion he saw the black girl’s feet slide sideways from under her as her driver tried to force his way past on the outside and the slope was just too much for her. She skidded for some way and Carlo doubted that she would play any further part in the race, even if she hadn’t been hurt, she would be too far adrift.

He let Blondie have a few swipes backhand and forehand to make her keep her mind on her work as the sweat would be beginning to torment her and they set off on the last of the big circuits. By the time they had climbed back up to the level ground, Blondie was beginning to blow, her head was rearing and Carlo could see her ribs heaving under her glistening skin that was now plainly running with sweat.

“
Turkish Delight is making a move! She’s left Ash in her wake and is up with Dawn Light. They’re neck and neck as they turn into the uphill stretch with Orient still trying to make any impression on Blondie’s lead!”

As far as he dared, Carlo took it easy but a look down at one of the screens above the stadium showed him Orient was grimly pounding up behind him and he hoped that the brief respite would help Blondie cope with what he had in store. He jerked her reins back as they turned into the downhill but then lashed her hard across her bottom. Instead of leaning back against the weight of the rig she was forced into running with it, letting it propel her downhill. Carlo gritted his teeth and concentrated on steering. His plan was to use the fact that he was out on his own to almost steer across the zig zag corners, cutting close to left and right barriers to minimise the time he spent going across the slope. If Blondie could keep her feet, it would be a race winner. If she lost her footing, it would be curtains. He shaved the first right hand barrier, brushing it with his shoulder as he leaned out and then charged almost straight downhill and shaved the left hand barrier with his other shoulder. Blondie was almost out of control, he could see she was just barely keeping her feet under her. If he reined her in now she’d be down in no time, all he could do was steer and hang on. Two more corners came and went, faces blurred past him, inches away, he heard screams and yells of encouragement and then Blondie was stumbling onto level ground. Now she needed him and he hauled her head back up. She skidded and reared but held her footing somehow as they tore out onto the level ground and pounded for the stadium. Up on a screen he saw Turkish Delight bumping and boring her way down the slope with Orient. Carlo grinned to himself, he could still spot talent hen he saw it. She had just needed a few good races to settle in before she showed her true form. But with her to worry about, Orient had her hands full so Blondie and he could relax.

Except they weren’t going to.

Carlo wrapped her chest with every lash in time to her running steps, scorching her breasts and making her throw herself forwards. Neither he nor anyone knew when or if she might pass this way again, so a course record would be her legacy in case she didn’t. For the two laps of the track he yelled her on and whipped her until saliva began to fly back from around her bit and sweat sprayed up as the lash snapped home. Dimly he heard the crowd cheering her on as the line came closer and closer and closer.

“A new course record! Not just broken but smashed! Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve just seen history made! No less than seventeen seconds taken off the previous best time!”

Carlo pulled up in a cloud of dust, wrenching Blondie’s head round in a triumphant skid that sent spirals of dust up around them as the rig’s wheels slid sideways. The he jumped down and strode round to her head before anybody else got there. Quickly he slid her bit out and loosened her girth, then let her rest her head on his shoulder as she gasped and sobbed her way back to normal. Only then did he lead her into the winner’s enclosure to have a rosette pinned to her left breast. Orient took second and Turkish Delight came in a creditable third. Both proudly posed with their drivers for photos with their rosettes pinned neatly above their left nipples so that they hung over them.

After a shower and a thorough cleansing Carlo led Blondie back up to the arena and left her in a holding cell to rest while the chariots raced and lunch was taken. He made his way up to the owner’s box in the circus just as the racing began. The chariots were the standard six slave ones. Across the front of the long central shaft ran a spar to which four slaves were tethered, the outside ones had steel guards on their forearms for fighting off rival teams. Behind them and nearer the chariot was a narrower transverse spar to which two slaves were tethered. These provided basic power and were lashed to their work by their driver, while the whipman kept the front rank gingered up and struck out at rival teams as well.

The races were close and provided some entertaining spills and clashes. Purdy’s team won through safely but could only manage third place in the final. This meant that in the final melée the N’Benga stable needed to score ten ‘falls’ to clinch victory while the opposition needed to score twenty.

When the full heat had begun to go out of the day, the crowd reconvened for the final orgy of female combat and the fun that traditionally closed a three day show. The full squads of slaves were flung at each other and if the outcome had already been settled it was staged purely for the fun of it, and the real stars were not risked in the free for all. But, as on this occasion, where every ‘fall’ counted, all hands were set to the pumps. Hence Carlo was in the dressing room beneath the arena, taking off Blondie’s cuffs and massaging some looseness back into tired muscles and doing the same for Purdy while Anne Marie catered for Tigre, Trouble and Ox. Around them the whole of the N’Benga squad swirled and herded, impatient to be let loose inside the arena. And even more impatient for what would follow.

Blondie knew the routine well and Carlo could feel the slight trembles of anticipation that ran through her as he worked on her.

“Randy bitch!” he whispered. “Can’t wait can you?” He didn’t talk directly to her, that would be unseemly but she stamped her feet and shook her thick mane of hair impatiently.

At long last, and just as the heat in the long, low room was becoming unbearable, they were called out and over a hundred naked, aroused and excited females squeezed and pushed and squealed their way through the door, out into the tunnel under the terraces and from there out onto the brightly sunlit arena floor itself.

Carlo watched his favourite slave’s bottom jiggle deliciously as she trotted amongst the crowd, her mane of honey blonde hair bouncing above her team mates, and standing out even more than usual against the predominantly black haired girls. Just as her golden tanned skin was in stark contrast to the chocolate darkness of the skins around her, skins which shone as if they had been polished.

Some spectators who paid a fortune for the privilege – as they would see it – were allowed to stand at the sides of the tunnel and touch the girls as they ran out, some used handkerchiefs to wipe the sweat from them. These found their way onto the net for exorbitant sums in due course although others were kept as parts of private collections of arena memorabilia.

The same people would be there when the girls limped back or were carried back. Then the object would be to get a wipe of their cunts and any other bodily fluid, which would fetch even more or become an even more prized possession. It was a practice that went as far back as the Roman arenas.

Now the guards and owners referred to them simply as ‘gropies’ and tolerated their presence in the name of extra income for the stable.

Once the slaves burst out into the sunlight of the stadium and the crowd erupted, Carlo hurried up to the owners’ box which was directly over the slaves’ entrance into the arena and took his place beside Johnson.

“I think we’ve got it now,” he told Carlo. “We’ll make ten before they make twenty, especially with Blondie out there.”

Carlo was inclined to agree but made a non committal response out of superstition. The compere was explaining the rules of this particular finale to the eager crowd.

The two squads of naked girls stood at either end of the arena and in the dead centre was a pile of the sort of weapons they were used to using; there were cat o’nine tails, single tail whips, studded whips, weighted boxing straps, nets and staves. But as the compere was telling everyone, there were only enough for half the slaves in the arena. The squads would have to fight for possession and then fight to win. But before then they had to reach the centre of the arena.

In front of each squad and stretching across the whole width of the arena, were lines of ten foot high pillars and at first their purpose was unclear but at a signal from one of the referees a switch was thrown and the pillars began to revolve. They turned slowly at first, but as they speeded up a delighted cheer erupted from the crowd.

Each pillar had leather straps mounted all round its circumference and up its entire height, as it revolved the straps flew out until they were overlapping the ones from the next pillar. The only way the naked girls could get to the weapons was to squeeze between the pillars.

“But we don’t want these lazy sluts keeping us waiting for our fun do we?!” the compere enquired and got the response he wanted.

“So the opposing team’s guards will encourage each squad to get a move on!”

Another cheer greeted the appearance of the men, already stripped down to shorts, ready for the fun later on and each wielding a braided lash.

Out in the centre of the arena a referee held up his hands with all fingers up and the compere began a countdown from ten.

The crowd joyfully yelled “Go!” at the end and the men sprang forwards to drive the hapless squads between the pillars. It soon became apparent that the designers had done a very good job. The gaps between were just big enough for a girl to get through sideways, thus making her slow down and have to take a longer, whole body, flogging on her way through. It also meant that the pile up behind her was exacerbated as there were almost ten girls for each gap, and that meant that those behind took a more prolonged flogging from the opposition’s guards. And put together with the loving close ups from the ever present cameras, shown on the giant screens, it was a highly entertaining spectacle.

Carlo sat back and applauded as the squeals from the first girls to make the passage between the pillars began to filter upwards. Already welted and bruised from three days of use and competition, each girl was taking scores of mechanical lashes as she desperately tried to make a dash through a gap, but it was too narrow to be rushed through and they emerged staggering and striped before they had even faced their opponents.

The cameras showed close up after close up of breasts being mercilessly flattened under the barrage and buttocks rippling, but then the pile ups behind began to make girls trip over against those in front of them and soon the gaps were all full of girls crawling over each other, all desperate to escape the lashes behind and on either side of them.. Fights broke out between team members under the blizzards of leather.

“Brilliant, Johnson!” Carlo shouted above the din. “You kept that quiet!”

“It was Mister Su’s idea and he developed the pillars. I suggested we use the guards to encourage the opposition squads!”

Down on the arena floor the finale was entering its next phase. The last of the girls had made their way by whatever means through the pillars and the two squads now tottered towards the weapons pile. There was hardly an inch of female skin anywhere that wasn’t welted. Carlo watched one of the screens that was picking up on a camera behind the N’Benga squad. Most of the girls were staggering, their buttocks red, striped and bruised purple in some cases. Some of them helped each other along, any quarrels now forgotten, subsumed in the knowledge that bad though the opposition’s guards had been, they were nothing compared to their owner’s wrath if they went down without putting on a good show. He sat forward, suddenly serious. Now that the fun of the pillars was over he realised it had evened the teams out, both were exhausted and the N’Benga’s team weight and strength advantage had gone. Beside him Johnson sat forward too, suddenly nervous as he took on board the implications too.