Lost Property (14 page)

“You’re awake then,” a girl’s voice said from the next cell.

Other memories came back. A man had carried her and the green eyed blonde down here when the chaos got too bad upstairs, the two of them had been put in neighbouring cells and after some time of fruitless shouting and screaming, they had collapsed into miserably exhausted sleep.

The corridor that ran outside their cells only ran past the green-eyed girl’s one, then it stopped. At the other end, by Kath’s cell was a door, and this now opened. A cheerful looking man in a simple T shirt and cargoes came in. He was built like the proverbial brick outhouse, Kath thought, his shirt strained across his pecs and the short sleeves strained around his biceps.

“Morning! I’m your trainer, Brian’s the big boss, but I’ll be directly responsible for your discipline. We’re working the sister system, you two look after each other from now on. However rough the going gets, keep an eye out for your sister and she’ll do the same for you. And believe me the going will get pretty rough!”

All this was delivered with a cheerful openness that clashed bizarrely with their circumstances and when he unlocked their doors both girls came out docile and almost curious about what was going to happen next. The man handed Kath a chain with leather cuffs at either end.

“Buckle these onto you and your sister’s ankles, your right, her left. You won’t need it after a few days because you won’t want to leave us, but it’ll save us a bit of trouble in the meantime if you get restless! Now, let’s get you some breakfast and then we’ll get down to work.”

He walked behind them as they hobbled awkwardly along, the house was a maze of outbuildings and extensions and the cellars they were being held in were what seemed like miles away from the house proper. The stairs gave them the most problem with their chain but once they were back on ground level they made good progress towards the smell of breakfast. On their way they joined two other pairs with their guards and from the conversation, Kath gathered hers was called Mike. She stored the information away.

The breakfast was amazingly good; fresh fruit juice, coffee, croissants, jam and a soft boiled egg; all served by the guards and the back haired girl, while Brian Holden looked on carefully.

It wasn’t until the meal was over that the true nature of Proteus was made clear and by then, Kath realised, the way the induction had been handled meant it was far too late for submissive girls to do anything other than accept it. But for herself there was the determination to be a good journalist and maybe win her Mistress back by filing the story of what was going on.

“You have been picked to form the nucleus of a brand new arena stable. You will be part of the very first state sponsored stable in the world.” Brian told them as they sat naked at the trestle table on a bright morning with all the traumas of the previous day behind them.

“You all know that the life of an arena slave is almost non-stop sex and submission. And you’re the lucky ones that Mother Nature has equipped to enjoy that lifestyle. Now, this is not a polite invitation! This is a fact. You will be subject to strict discipline from now on, and you will be subjected to a fitness regime that will test you to the limits. You do not have a choice, you have been chosen. Get over it and get on with it! Any slacking and you’ll find yourself saying hello to the whipping post in the yard!”

Kath’s first morning was spent at the end of a lunge rein, learning the commands from a driving whip and getting used to wearing a bridle and bit. She began to learn the dressage steps, the high-lift trot, the slow trot, she began to learn how to arch her neck and she learned that the driving whip stung like mad when you were sweating. And she also learned that Mike wielded it a lot more strongly than Clive Mostyn had. Every hour, she would be released and would shackle herself to an iron loop in the yard wall, after having freed her sister and fastened her to the rein. After an hour they would swap again. Two pairs went out running and the other two began to learn how to wrestle.

There were no rebellious scenes at all and Kath’s mind wandered to the question of how to file her story. Idly she watched, once she had got her breath back, the well set up young man in front of her whipping the green eyed girl around in circles, shouting out orders and lashing her to her work. The sun was warm on her skin and the stone was hot against her back. The girl was sexy in a slender, lissom sort of way and her breasts swung and rippled deliciously, she had to admit it was enjoyable watching her getting whipped.

In the afternoon they were taken for a run. The hobble was removed and Mike accompanied them. Kath tried to keep looking around her for any clue as to where they were but it seemed as though the house was surrounded for miles by woods and fields. Mike ran easily alongside them, and when they began to flag he used a riding crop across their thighs to encourage them along. One of the hardest things Kath found was trying to get used to the way her breasts bounced as she ran, unfettered by a bra for once. But Mike pointed out that if she was a pony racer her tits would be strapped, and if she was a chariot racer, well bouncing tits was the least of her worries. He laughed but Kath couldn’t. She was too surprised by the tide of warmth that swept down through her belly at the thought of being in the middle of the storm of a chariot race. She and Mistress had frequently shouted themselves hoarse watching the pell mell action from this or that arena.

In the evening they were made to stand around the whipping post and watch as the black girl and a tubby blonde were given thirty lashes with a single tail for not trying hard enough. Once she was put to bed and had heard the door to the outside world locked she immediately reached between her legs and began to rub at her clitoris urgently. It had been the tall black guard, Alex, she thought his name was, who had wielded the lash and Kath kept replaying in her mind’s eye the way the two victims had spun and twisted as the lash had fallen. After all the emotional upheaval and doubts about her Mistress, it was relaxing to be back in touch with her real nature. The orgasm that eventually consumed her, freed her from all thought and she was able to recall the stinging of Mike’s whip on her own skin, the delicious ripple of her sister’s buttocks as they were whipped and the heavy smacking noise of the punishment whip in the yard. And as she thrust her fingers in and out while with her other hand she punished her clitoris, she wondered whether either of them had been fucked by Alex afterwards. She hoped they had been. She wished
she
had been.

Kath had just finished and was spinning down gently into sleep when she heard a high pitched moan from the next cell, then another and a squeak of bed springs followed by three harsh grunts with louder squeaks and then heavy breathing which gradually quieted. She smiled into the dark. She was not alone.

Sharon was alone. She had never truly been alone but in this dark cell with only a glow worm bulb lighting the passage outside her cell, she was alone and hungry. She had no idea of how long it had been since she had been brought, kicking and struggling to this place, stripped and locked in here totally on her own. All her life there had been other people, there had been shouting, fighting, brawling but never had there been silence and isolation. She had raged and screamed in fury when they left her. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. ‘They’ had rules they had to obey. There was a system that she had learned to play. ‘They’ couldn’t just do as they liked, that was why she and her gang and the others ruled the streets. They could do just as they liked and the system limped along behind them, ineffective and slow. It was a hindrance at worst.

And now her gang would be leaderless, they would be taken over by another leader or merge with other gangs, and when everyone learned how she had been locked up like this, she would lose all credibility and have to fight her way up again.

Somewhere outside, a door opened and then a shadow fell across the small hole cut high up in the cell door. She snarled defiance as the tall man who had brought her here held a steaming hot plate of food just outside.

“Ask nicely,” he said.

She cursed him and he left.

He went so suddenly that she was left speechless and bereft; suddenly aware that with this man you got one chance - and one only. Now she was alone again and even more hungry.

Chapter Ten

Angie was in a foul mood and petite blonde Sara was feeling its full effect. She was tied down to the bed in the spare room of Angie’s apartment and was being cropped, hard and long. Her bottom was a raging inferno and now even her back was getting it. She had never had the crop applied there before and was finding it difficult to cope with. Her safeword kept trying to force its way out through her clenched teeth but she knew that Kath used to take the crop to her back without crying off and Sara knew she would have to take it as well if she was to stand any chance of replacing her in Angie’s affections. And Angie was so deliciously dominant.

Smack!

A stroke landed square across her shoulders, the leather keeper adding a shrill descant of stinging pain to her right side, the shaft making bruising contact all across her. She couldn’t help letting out a whimper, hating herself for interrupting Angie’s pleasure but quite unable to find her own pleasure in this severity of beating. On her bottom, yes. She loved the crop there. She adored the heat of a well flogged arse, and a flogger to her back could make her come as well. But the crop was pure pain.

“Sorry, babe. I was miles away,” Angie said, throwing the crop down onto the bed beside Sara. “It’s probably a bit advanced for you.”

“Sorry, Mistress. But you can carry on. I’m not at my safeword yet.”

“Good girl. But I need something different anyway.”

Sara felt Angie take a handful of her hair and then climb onto the bed, manoeuvring herself to sit open legged right in front of her face. For a moment, Sara was able to appreciate Angie’s cunt, it was a very tidy one with the inner lips quite small and hidden between thick, pronounced outer ones. But the beating had excited her and around her vaginal entrance the inner lips now blossomed and quivered, awaiting Sara’s eager lips and tongue.

Angie slid a little further down the bed and Sara’s face was engulfed in the rich odour of arousal and her tongue tasted the pungent outpourings. Above her she heard Angie sigh with pleasure and she concentrated on the clitoris, lashing the hard little nubbin until she felt Angie’s hands clench more tightly in her hair and she knew the climb towards orgasm had begun. And with each orgasm she was sure she was pushing the memory of Kath further into Angie’s past.

When the girl had gone, Angie wrapped herself in a short bathrobe, fixed herself a drink and sat in front of the television, deep in thought. Sara was a pleasing little thing, she hadn’t meant to keep her on after using her at the hotel to scare the wits out of Kath, but when Proteus had so suddenly begun and Kath had disappeared as if she had never been…well she had needs and a pretty, compliant sub like Sara was not to be sneezed at.

But now there was big trouble. Proteus had begun but that hadn’t helped her at work. There was still no story. It had been a month now and there had been complete silence, so all the accounts department could see was Kath’s wages still going out, the hotel sting costs and nothing to show for it all.

There was nothing else for it. She would have to face Mostyn and try and pull Kath out then cobble together what they could. It was time to cut the losses and run.

Mostyn kept her waiting, it was a studied insult but, as an investigative journalist, one that Angie was well used to and she kept calm until the smiling secretary ushered her into the impressive office. As she walked towards the desk she tried to look around, Kath had been here. Mostyn had played with her here and Angie tried to pick up some vague feeling of Kath’s presence. The previous night she had slept little and now she was keenly aware of how much she missed her slave.

Mostyn rose and came to greet her with a smile and a handshake. Even Angie could feel the force of his maleness as he came close to her, no wonder Kath had responded so well to him.

“I’m delighted to meet you!” Mostyn lied glibly. “Always happy to help the press. Please, let’s sit down and you can tell me how I can be of assistance.”

She was deftly steered over to the sofa and easy chairs – Kath had been bent over one of these and beaten, she was sure – Mostyn sat opposite her, his body language self-confident and relaxed. Angie decided to go straight for the jugular.

“You’ve got some property of mine,” she said.

Mostyn’s eyebrows raised and he looked genuinely puzzled.

“Kath Knowles,” Angie went on. “She worked for me. We put her in here to find out what this Proteus thing was all about. She told me everything – and I mean everything – about what you got up to with her, so please let’s not play the puzzled innocent. Tell me where she is and what Proteus is.”

Mostyn looked her squarely in the eye for a moment. His face didn’t betray a flicker of embarrassment or anger and she felt some grudging admiration for the man.

Eventually he rose and walked over to the panoramic window.

“Someone once said that the first job of any elected body was to ensure it got re-elected.”

“Pretty cynical.”

“I prefer pragmatic. Come over here, Angie, and tell me what you see.”

Angie went to stand beside him, looking down at the vast urban sprawl of London.

She shrugged. “London. A city.”

“Yes, but what about the people? What do they think of the modern arenas, for example?”

Angie felt a small surge of guilt as she recalled all the nights with Kath in front of the TV relaying internet films of the various games.

“I think…I think they’re growing in popularity.”

“Yes, I agree. And do you often walk in the streets of the city after dark on your own?”

“No, of course not. It’s not safe.” The answer came so fast it surprised even Angie herself.

Mostyn turned to face her. “Again, I agree. And as a government we must clean up the streets. But as a government we must also give the people what they want. The thing is that the people we must ‘clean up’ are also ‘the people’!

“Angie, all our research shows us that we either have already lost – or very soon will lose - control of the streets. We must act swiftly and decisively and to that end we must ensure that this government is re-elected so that it can carry on its vital work. Democracy can be a bloody nuisance! So we are taking several lessons from the Romans. The arenas are more and more popular but they need slaves. We will provide them, and thus we will provide ‘the people’ with the spectacles they relish. A vote for us is a vote for more of what they love. Meanwhile the people from whom we recruit the slaves will enjoy having someone to look down on, thus making them more amenable and less liable to riot just so long as the government continues to provide good entertainment. ‘Divide and Rule’ as they say.”