Lost Property (19 page)

Later that night, Brian sat back in his armchair in the Rest and Recreation Room. Steve was flogging one of his girls on the X cross against the opposite wall. John was working on one of his on the medical couch, Alex had one of his over a whipping bench and was caning her. The air was filled with the snap and thud of the cane and whip, the girl on the bench was whimpering softly and writhing prettily as she came.

In the chair beside him, Mike was leaning back and holding Helga’s head firmly down as he came in her mouth and just behind him, Caroline cracked a bottle of champagne.

It had been a good day. Tomorrow they would stencil numbers on the girls and they would move further down the road to their destinies.

When they heard the cork pop, the men gathered by Brian as he stood up, leaving their girls securely hooded so they could talk without being heard.

“Gentlemen – and ladies!” he began, getting an ironic cheer as Helga was still licking an errant drop of Mike’s sperm off her finger. “I believe we really have the makings of a stable here. All we need do now is nurture and direct their own natures. Tomorrow I suggest that Alex should challenge John’s girls to a boxing match. The day after we’ll have a pony race and after that it’ll be log pulling. In due course my two will be ready for a return bout with Mike’s. This time I think boxing.”

“Fine with me, Boss,” Mike agreed.

“A toast! To Proteus!” he proposed.

Glasses clinked and were then emptied, Caroline refilled them and the men returned to their fun. Brian waited until she had finished and then ran the back of one hand down over her left breast, making her draw in her breath sharply with pleasure. “You, upstairs now and wait for me. Lay out the kangaroo hide whip.”

“Yes, sir.”

Brian stayed long enough to socialise and congratulate his men and then went up to his room where Caroline was waiting, collared, cuffed and naked.

Angie stared balefully at her mobile phone, lying mute on the coffee table. She had sent Sara to bed in order to get some time to herself and was considering the implications of the fact that she hadn’t heard from Kath in over a fortnight. She might have to continue the blog herself if the wretched slut didn’t get in touch. She poured herself another scotch and nurtured her resentment. Just because she had been sold didn’t give the slut the right to turn her back on her mistress.

She hated to admit it but she didn’t want to lose Kath. Yes, the money she had got for selling her had been welcome but somewhere deep inside, she had always thought that she would get her back. But now something was telling her that even if she hadn’t sold her, Kath had been lost the minute she had been picked by Proteus.

In the small hours of the morning, Carlo fell asleep over his laptop. Once again he had been trawling every chat room he could find that had any connection at all to the arenas. Somewhere, he told himself, there would have to be a whisper, a shadow of a rumour about Blondie. Surely no one could find themselves owning the tall blonde and keep utterly quiet about it. But there wasn’t a murmur anywhere. The only scrap of comfort he could glean from the current situation was that at least the Owner’s Council seemed to be watertight and rumours about CSL having lost Blondie weren’t circulating – yet.

Sharon finished her food and licked her fingers to make sure she had got every last morsel. Then she carefully replaced the plate on the shelf outside the slot in her cell door. For a couple of weeks now she had been allowed to feed herself. But tonight she had got extra rations because she had won a fight. It was that simple. ‘That Man’ as she was coming to label the lean and wiry man who had brought her here and who had fed her from his hand and who had bested her at everything, who had given her orders to obey, had punished her for disobeying and rewarded her for obedience – That Man had set her to wrestle naked with another girl. It had been fun! She had never been close to another naked girl, let alone held her and grappled with her. It had felt good because That Man had told her she was doing well. She had held the other girl down and had been given more food. The other girl had been whipped.

They seemed to do that a lot here. It had come as a bit of a shock when she had discovered that there were more girls being held here, and she resented any of them getting even a second’s worth of attention from That Man. The fact that the girls were whipped didn’t bother her – it just seemed an extension of how the world had functioned anyway. It was a bit more crude but still it was strong preying on weak. But this time she knew she was weak – and she knew where the strength lay. She wanted as much of That Man as she could get.

She had been whipped a few times herself and it hadn’t bothered her – she had had worse – but she hadn’t liked That Man not coming to her cell, not talking to her afterwards. When he had whipped her she had looked over her shoulder at him as he flogged her, determined not to miss a second of him concentrating entirely on her. No one had ever done that before; spent time and trouble on her, let alone a man who could command her. As she had done well that day, she dared hope he might come to her cell and let her kneel before him and suck his cock. She smiled in the darkness as she heard a door open down the corridor and his measured footsteps approach. She knelt down, ready to please him.

Chapter Thirteen

Kath sat up slowly on her cot, careful not to disturb Mike. She climbed over him and squatted down by his discarded trousers, carefully removing the key ring without making it jangle. She checked he was sleeping deeply as she slipped out of the cell and began to make her way towards the locker room once more. It had been some time since she had last had the opportunity to report to Angie, and it was only some odd sort of lingering journalistic professionalism that drove her now. She referred to Angie in her mind as just that – Angie – she was no longer Mistress. Mike was Master as far as she was concerned and since the wrestling bout, he had taken to sleeping with both her and Annie together. The narrow cots meant that most often he would stand by the bed and watch Annie and her make love before joining in by fucking one of them as they entangled with the other.

After the punishment beating for losing the wrestling match, Kath had not expected him to come to their cells but he had turned up, seeming quite cheerful and had taken her into Annie’s cell. He had made them perform a sixty-nine while he undressed, standing over them and when they were approaching their climax, Kath had felt her hindquarters grabbed and he had lifted her bottom up. She had stayed where she was, with Annie’s fragrant juices seeping over face, envying Annie for lying where she could look up and see Mike kneeling over her. Then she felt him sink into the hole that Annie had so lovingly prepared and as he fucked her he had sunk down enough so that Annie could lick his balls. Kath tried to keep on licking her as she was driven into the heavens by her master’s cock and ended up bringing Annie off by crying out as she came, her mouth pressed passionately against Annie’s cunt and her tongue rasping at her clit.

He had spurted most of his jism up her but had left some so that he could withdraw and push his cock downwards so that Annie could get some too. Then he had made them change position and continue until he had recovered enough to shaft Annie and Kath had been able to lick him while he fucked her. Then while they lay happy and exhausted he had told them that the boss was pleased at the show they had put on.

“You stood up to a fair bit of punishment, you took your falls well and you didn’t go down too easily. You’ll get plenty of chances to get your own back.”

He had left them to sleep together then, but hadn’t been back since, until that evening.

Kath tip toed along the empty corridors until she came to the locker room and found her phone. She screwed her eyes up against the glare of the screen and waited until it was ready, then she found Angie’s number and called it, for the first time realising that the voice at the end was her editor and no longer her mistress.

“Hello?” Angie sounded understandably sleepy.

“It’s me,” Kath said. “Are you ready to record?”

“What? Kath? Is that you, babe? Hang on!”

Kath listened to the rustling and visualised Angie disentangling herself from the duvet and trying to gather her wits. Suddenly she was hit by a bolt of homesickness. How could she have mentally deserted her mistress so easily? She recalled the scent of Angie’s body in the warm bed beside her, the feeling of curling up, spoon-like next to her on cold mornings while her hand slowly found its way to Kath’s breast and then her delta. And all the while she had been having these wonderful adventures with hunks like Mike and gorgeous girls like Annie, her mistress had been patiently waiting for a phone call.

She heard Angie grumbling as she fumbled for her gown and smiled to herself in the dark as she envisaged the room and the hallway outside.

“What’s going on Mistress? Is everything ok?”

Kath froze at the sound of a female voice.

“Shut up!” she heard Angie hiss. “Right fire away, Kath, I’m here!”

Kath took the phone from her ear and gazed at the screen stupidly. An insect-like chittering coming from the speaker as Angie called her, trying to get her back.

Stupid! Stupid! Kath fumed at herself, how could she have thought for one second that Angie would deny herself any pleasure in her absence? It was probably that daft little blonde tart she had used in the hotel room.

Well then, her thoughts raced on, should she not report in as a journalist anyway? After all she did want her employers to get her out of here. Didn’t she? Well didn’t she?

After a second more hesitation she hit the off button, stored the phone and left the room. She wasn’t tip toeing anymore.

Kath closed the cell door quietly and stood looking at Mike. He was fast asleep on his back, his deep chest rising and falling with his breathing, his thick, muscular thighs spread carelessly wide. Now, once again moving stealthily she approached and knelt beside the cot. Mike’s cock lay against one thigh, the dark ball sac hanging temptingly just below it. She leaned across one thigh, stuck out her tongue and began to lick it, then she moved upwards and began to lick at the soft shaft of the cock itself. She felt him stir as the cock began to pulse into life. She gently held the helm in one hand and just dabbed at it with her tongue. He moaned and his hand found its way down to her head where it pressed her down. She smiled and ducked her head obediently, opening her mouth wide and taking in the smooth roundness of the glans, her tongue tracing the slit that traversed it. When he was fully lodged and her mouth was stuffed deliciously full of him, she began a slow, nodding motion, letting him into her relaxed throat as much as she could. He moaned again and his fingers clasped harder in her hair, he began to buck his hips up towards her face and then she felt the tell-tale thickening of his shaft. She cupped his balls respectfully in one hand and used the other in a gentle milking motion up and down the shaft, then relaxed and let him pump himself into the narrow confines of her mouth and throat. Splash after splash spurted into her and she swallowed each one gratefully. He sighed in release and propped himself up on his elbows as she continued to hold him in her mouth, licking him and encouraging every last morsel from him, and fetching the final spasms of pleasure from him.

When he was finally finished, she released him, licked her lips and sat back on her heels.

“Sir, there’s something I need to confess to you,” she said.

Later that day Brian and Mike faced each other across Brian’s desk. They had had a video conference with Mostyn, who had had a call from the woman who had sold the girl who now bore the number seven, to them.

The blog was massive now and she would just have to ghost write it as best she could. But what were they to do with the miscreant herself?

“Well she’s got to be really punished,” Mike said.

“She thinks she deserves it and if she doesn’t get it, she’ll smell a rat! She must’ve started out thinking she was going to bring us down,” Brian said.

“Boss, just imagine if there really had been a leak – one we really didn’t know about and control – and then we rumbled it. What would we have done to that girl?”

Brian sat back and pursed his lips in thought, it was exactly what he had been thinking too.

“I think I’d have rung Carlo to start with.” He sat forward and picked up the phone.

It was a cold, crisp day and the slaves all wore the woollen
ruanas
they used until they warmed up on days like these- the simple blanket-like garments slipping over the head and then the ends being tied with a leather belt at the waist. Their hands were clipped neatly behind their backs and they stood in a line to witness the start of Number Seven’s week of punishment.

“…her intention was simply to bring down this stable and destroy everything we have built up. Everything you have striven for, fought for and achieved would have been thrown away! You would have been released back into the world to face those who sold you!” Brian told them. “All the lies and the double dealing that make life so difficult out there, you would have had to deal with again! But here, you are safe! Here you know what you are! You know what you are for!” He paused. “And you know what we are! In the ring, between the shafts, hauling logs – and of course, under the lash, there is no room for dishonesty! Together we can make a great stable, but first we must show Number Seven that we will not tolerate deception and disloyalty. To her credit she has admitted her crime and submitted herself to her due punishment – a punishment that you will all share in administering!”

Brian had been walking slowly up and down the line of girls and now stopped to examine the expressions on their faces. To a girl they were shocked and angry. They had been cast adrift suddenly when they had been taken by Proteus but had found the certainties in their lives that their submissive natures longed for and now one of their own number had been plotting to disrupt everything again.

He turned away and smiled grimly towards his team who flanked the frame on which the hooded figure of Number Seven now hung by her wrists which were enclosed in thick suspension cuffs. Otherwise she was naked, occasionally she shivered, but whether that was from the cold or from apprehension, Brian neither knew nor cared. Mostyn’s manoeuvrings with the girl had been a nuisance and with a few decent beatings, he could get his little squad sorted out properly, so he was eager to get started and get it over with.

“Step forward Number One!” he called.

The black girl stepped out from the line and he handed her the coiled single tail. It was the standard disciplinary tool, well worn and soft, so it wrapped lovingly around its victim but still with a core of venom when swung hard.

“Five lashes anywhere on the bitch’s body. Remember what she was going to do to all of us, and if I think you’re holding back, you’ll get the same as she’s going to get!” he told her, then stood back.

He was impressed by how well the girls had learned their craft. Each one swung the lash hard and accurately. The suspended girl, unable to hear the lashes coming, twisted and swung – her feet a clear twelve inches off the ground. He watched the grim determination on the faces of the girls as they worked on their comrade. He was delighted with how they changed their stance so that sometimes they wrapped her body completely and sometimes they let the tip of the whip bite deeply at the middle of her back. It was just as well that the hood’s stopple had been applied at the start of proceedings, Brian thought as he watched Number Eight, the girl’s own sparring sister, throw the whip deliberately hard at her hips, making her try and draw up her thighs to protect herself.

By the end of the forty-five lashes she was striped from shoulders to knees, but still with enough spaces to allow Helga and Caroline to add their contributions. Then Mike lowered her, freed her wrists, slung her over his shoulder and took her off to solitary confinement. He and the other men would make their contributions later.

As her head bumped and bounced against the back of the man carrying her, Kath slowly eased her teeth out of the dents they had made in the rubber, penis shaped stopple. It had been the best and worst of beatings. The best because it had been so painful. The worst because it had been done with no pleasure; no emotion save that of anger. And she deserved it. She deserved all that they were undoubtedly going to do to her. Dimly she heard a door close, she was picked up and dumped unceremoniously on a rough blanket that immediately chafed at her weals. For a moment nothing happened and then she felt the full weight of a man on top of her, barging between her legs, thrusting for her vagina with a rock hard erection. But of course, what else could she expect after such a thrashing? And what else would he expect but that she be open and wet for him in the wake of that thrashing. He slid smoothly into her and began to thrust hard and fast, seeking only his pleasure. Kath was rasped against the blanket as the man on top of her rocked her in his quest for release. She clenched her teeth against the stopple once more and tried to control her breathing through the nostril holes as his rough handling ignited the masochistic fires inside her. She felt him straighten and freeze for a second and then he was pounding into her, harder than ever and still careless of her pain, sending her toppling out of control and into orgasm, her breath snorting through her nose as she came, her teeth aching with the pressure of her bite on the stopple.

Then his weight vanished and she was left to snort and snuffle her way back to normality. After a minute or so she felt the laces at the back of the hood being undone and suddenly she was back in the world of light as it was pulled off and she saw Mike looking down at her.

“You’ve got a lot more of that to come,” he told her, his voice cold and threatening. “Better rest!”

He padlocked a steel cuff round her ankle and then left her. Slowly and stiffly she climbed to her feet and looked around. She was in a chilly stone room with one frosted glass window set high up in a wall. The floor was stone flagged and cold to her bare feet. There was a simple bed with a duvet on a thin mattress, a toilet and a sink. Mike slammed and locked the door behind him. Kath curled up on the bed and let her fingers trail across the welts that criss crossed her body and thighs. She was strangely satisfied and even smiled as she felt Mike’s sperm begin to ooze out of her. This was a price she had chosen to pay. She had to pay it, until it was paid she could not be a full member of the stable. And that was what she wanted; more than anything.

When it was all over, Annie told her that she was a week in solitary but she lost count of the days. The men kept her in a constant state of confused arousal and pain. It seemed almost every hour, one or other of them would take her into the room next to her cell and beat her. It was another plain stone cube, but was equipped with an X cross, a whipping bench and a caning stool. It had long ledges either side of its raised central bench, which sloped downwards. She was made to kneel on the ledges and bend forwards, the central bench supporting her chest and knees but leaving her bottom raised. She had been caned plenty of times in the past but never the way she was caned on what turned out to be her final morning. During her week she had taken a couple of good whacks with a crop and a particularly whippy cane which she instantly named The Bitch – after the way it stung. But as a finale Mike administered what he called a judicial caning. It was a punishment caning; pure and simple. He took a step back once she was mounted and then strode forwards, Kath heard him coming just before the stroke exploded across her buttocks – and there was no other word for it. It flashed a brilliant light of pain across her mind and she was still trying to scream when the next detonated – and the next. She was vaguely aware of gaping like a landed fish as the merciless assault went on and on until finally she found her voice and shrieked. And for a few minutes the small room was an inferno of noise as Mike swung the cane at full strength and Kath screamed until the last part of the price she had to pay had been extracted from her quivering body.