THE PRIZE (8 page)

Only then did he consider it 'safe' to lie beside her while he played with her breasts. Her wrists were still handcuffed through the bars of the bed head.

"Do you believe I've told you everything?" she asked eventually.

He paused from slapping her breasts to and fro, watching how they jiggled and rippled. "I think I'll have to whip these before I can be certain that you've told me everything. You'll report to me back here in a week's time for further interrogation."

Suddenly he saw her face cloud with worry.

"If I come back, will you be able to tell me anything about Ayesha?"

"I'm working on a couple of things. Hopefully I'll have something." He reached up and released her hands.

Now he stood in the lounge of the flat, finished his whisky, and waited for Karen to finish cleaning herself up. When she entered he had to admit that she really was something, her thick and curly hair framed an almost heart shaped face with lusciously soft lips, whose touch on his cock he couldn't wait to feel again. Her breasts were delightfully heavy with smooth areolas and now they pushed against her shirt and shook a little as she walked. He reached out and touched one, stroking it and watching the nipple erect to press against bra and shirt. She stood quite still and let him do what he wanted. Again he was struck by the fact that other women would have complained about being aroused while fully dressed and want to know what the hell he thought he was doing with their bodies anyway. But this gorgeous masochist wanted none of the usual sexual negotiation - she wanted him to take whatever he wanted. And suddenly he wanted to show her he was capable of doing just that.

He gripped his fingers deep into her breast. "Pull you skirt up," he ordered.

Immediately he saw a flush come to her cheeks and without any hesitation her fingers began to furl the skirt up her thighs.

"If you're going to fuck me again, I'll have to get my knickers off," she protested softly as the skirt lifted above crotch level.

"Tear them, you bitch," he snarled and grabbed both breasts. "And next week I'll cane you for daring to wear them."

Somehow she got both hands to one hip strap and yanked until it gave. Then he pushed her against the wall, opened his flies and drove in for her sex. As he had known she would, she had responded immediately and was flooding.

"We didn't..... have...... a cane," she gasped as he entered her.

"I know. You're going to buy one and bring it next time."

Her eyes closed and she abandoned herself, wrapping her legs tightly around him.

Chapter 9

Ayesha lay in the darkness, her hands were chained to the wall above her head and she could do nothing. The darkness was absolute so she had no idea who the two men had been who had just climbed into her bed and fucked her, one after the other. Their sperm was oozing out of her and making her wriggle.

Ever since they had brought her to this place, this was how the men had used her. She had been kept literally in the dark, fucked whenever it pleased them to use her and allowed only to see what they wanted her to. And what they had wanted her to see had inevitably been female slaves. She had watched whippings with every conceivably type of whip, cane, crop and flogger. She had become familiar with the frantic writhings and squeals of the slaves and their equally vigorous responses when the Prince or any other male took them. She had seen hundreds of cocks slide between obediently open legs, lips and buttocks and had had what felt like hundreds between her own. Even her prodigious appetite for cock had been slaked and all that filled her mind now was images of sex and slavery - and fear of the isolation of the hood.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the door of her little cell being opened and the light flicked on. The Englishman stood looking down at her.

"The Prince has finished what he needed to do here so we're going up country and you're going to find out what's really in store for you."

They left the palace in the grey of early morning, the Englishman, Ayesha and a driver for the jeep they were to travel in. She lay in the back, still naked and with her wrist restraints clipped together behind her back. Although she hadn't been hooded, she had been gagged and she moaned into it as she was jolted about painfully while the jeep bucketed its way through the sleeping city and out into the desert.

Then she was made to run.

Her right wrist was roped to a cleat on the back of the jeep and it set off at a jogging pace. She had no choice but to follow. Her gag had been removed and she had taken full advantage of the opportunity to scream and hurl abuse at the two men but had soon realised she was better off saving her breath. She was made to run until her hair was a single mat of sweaty rats' tails which scraped her forehead, her bare feet hurt so badly she was crying and her throat burned with thirst. She fell twice before they stopped and gave her a rest. She dropped to her knees gratefully and the Englishman came over to her with a water bottle.

He handed it to her.

"Thank me," he said.

She stammered out her heartfelt thanks as her fingers fumbled with the top. She was well aware by then that had he wanted to he could have just gone on until she was dragged along in the dirt. She was completely in his power.

"There's a wadi a few miles up the road. We'll camp there tonight. You'll make it alright, you just need to lose a few pounds for where you're going."

For the rest of what seemed like an interminable afternoon Ayesha ran, then trotted, then staggered and at last fell. After a short rest and some water she was forced to her feet and off they went again. In the evening she was fed and watered and then the men took turns having her. They tied her across the bonnet of the jeep, a rope fed from one wrist restraint round behind the windscreen and tied onto the other. Her breasts were squashed uncomfortably against the still-warm metal of the bonnet while she was beaten by one of the men and taken from the rear by the other. Neither of them said a word to her.

The whipping was completely different from the titillating flicks that Sir John and some of her clients had administered in the far distant past. These men used the whip and meant her to feel it, even while she was being shafted. She groaned and wriggled as the whip cracked down on her steadily and a cock remorselessly reamed her insides. Her thoughts and emotions were a confused whirl beneath the physical sensations of exhaustion, pain and, despite everything, pleasure.

On the fourth day as Ayesha struggled up and over a slope behind the dust cloud kicked up by the jeep, she saw that just a little way ahead of them was a fort. To her it seemed unbelievably ancient - like something out of a film about the old French Foreign Legion. It was built out from a mountainside, jutting into the rocky plain with high, forbidding, ochre
-
coloured walls surmounted by towers. The track they were following would lead them to the huge wooden doors which presently stood closed fast. To Ayesha, if it meant shade, drink and food, the fort was paradise on earth. Grimly she gathered herself for one last effort, determined that she would at least finish this journey on her feet. As they neared the gates they opened with an ominous rumbling and Ayesha stumbled blindly into her future.

She actually collided with the back of the jeep when it stopped, so near collapse was she and it took the Englishman kneeling beside her and letting her sip water for quite a few minutes before she could open her eyes and totter to her feet. She was inside the vast main courtyard of the fort but she couldn't quite believe what was going on. All across the wide expanse of beaten earth, naked girls were fighting each other. Under the sweltering sun the bodies shone with sweat but all of them were flinging themselves into combat with all their strength. The reason for their enthusiasm, Ayesha realised, lay in the fact that there were many male guards wandering between the contests and encouraging the girls here and there, with lazy flicks of whips heavier than any of those the girls held. But not all fought with whips, over by the outer wall she could see several wrestling matches taking place, close by her there were four boxing contests going on, all the contestants wearing thick straps around their knuckles and strange looking corsets and thongs on their bodies. She couldn't help but wince at the heavy thudding noises the punches made when they landed. As Ayesha watched, one girl took a heavy punch to the midriff followed by two to the breasts, which were only partially covered by the studded leather of the corset. The recipient of the punches shrieked and went down onto one knee, her arms cradling her breasts. Immediately one of the guards stepped forwards and lashed the kneeling girl savagely across her shoulders.

"Get up!" he screamed in an Arab dialect so thick that Ayesha could barely understand him. "You got more fight in you yet! Take her down and she'll take your place at the post!"

The girl stumbled to her feet and rushed her opponent, getting her into a clinch so that she couldn't swing her fists, for a moment the two girls swayed, trying to club at each other's ribs and backs, pulling at each other's hair, trying to rake at each other's face.

Ayesha watched in horror. Even in the Beirut streets of her youth, she had never seen such ferocity from females, but worse was to come. The girl who had first been downed suddenly jerked her knee up between the other girl's spread legs. The recipient's mouth opened in a rictus of pain but no noise came out, her eyes bulged and she seemed paralysed. Grinning, her opponent did it again and slowly the girl sank to her knees, letting out a hoarse moan as she did, at last her hands slipping between her thighs to nurse herself. Standing over her the victor grabbed her hair with one hand and then pistoned down two jabs to the breasts. Ayesha gaped as the victim stayed kneeling with her hands between her legs and seemed to just accept the pain of the last two punches before toppling forwards. The guard seemed well pleased with the victor.

"That's getting better! You're pushing yourself harder and taking more pain. That's good, just remember, let the crowds see when you've been hit, don't go down too quick, stagger round a bit. And don't come! However much it hurts! Don't come or I'll hang you on the walls for the vultures!"

The horror of that threat didn't seem to worry either combatant unduly and while Ayesha continued to gaze dumbfounded, the defeated girl knelt with her face in the dirt and her backside up in the air while it received ten hard lashes from the guard.

"Welcome to your future," the Englishman's voice whispered in her ear. "You'll be fighting alongside these slaves for the honour of the Prince's stable. Welcome to the arenas."

Ayesha gazed at him stupidly, trying to make sense of them. Fight? Why? What arenas? Then as she let her gaze roam around the fort, the other girls still struggling under the blazing sun, the dry Crack! of the whips sounding clear above the cries and grunts of effort, a few memories began to return.

There had been rumours among some female acquaintances about the barbaric spectacles held in the recently erected arenas around the world. They were only whispered about and there had been some speculative articles in the press but somehow no one ever seemed to discuss them openly. Karen had once mentioned something, Ayesha now recalled. She had said that she had a feeling Sir John knew something about them, or knew someone who did.

But here was the undeniable reality. Standing up straighter and flicking her hair back, Ayesha took a more thorough look around. The plain fact was that the female gladiators out numbered the guards by more than two to one, and although the men undoubtedly held heavier whips; a concerted attack by the athletic women would surely have succeeded. But there was no sign of that happening, instead she saw only determined duels being fought out, the men shouting encouragements and curses, wielding their whips to score unresisting female flesh.

"Once I have finished with your training you too will learn to fight out here. It will please me and the Prince and eventually it will please the crowds in the arenas. That will be all you will care about."

Not so long before, Ayesha would have rounded on him with a torrent of verbal scorn, and possibly a raking kick with a high heel. But she had learned that here, in this forgotten part of the world, outrageous things happened every day. Ayesha shivered and the Englishman chuckled beside her.

Chapter 10

She spent the afternoon sitting to one side of the courtyard. Her wrist restraints were clipped together behind her back and a padlocked chain fastened her to an ancient iron ring in the stone of the walls. She was at least in the shade, under the walkway which ran along near the top of the wall and was able to watch what happened. Half an hour or so after she had been left there the Englishman had called a halt to the duels and water had been brought out from the main keep at the back of the yard. It was an extraordinary facade, carved straight out of the mountainside and its countless windows gaped darkly above the dusty and echoing yard where the gladiators now either knelt, lay or bent, arms braced on knees, breasts heaving as they regained their breaths and began to sip at cups of water, then they all sat and the Englishman addressed them. Ayesha watched the girls’ faces and was amazed at how avidly they followed his every word and responded exactly as he wanted them to. He walked amongst them while he talked, stroking a head here and bending to stroke a breast there.

"All right then my troops!" he began and Ayesha plainly heard a slight ripple of amusement spread through the gladiators - as if a much-feared headmaster had made a small joke at the start of a speech to his pupils. "You did well enough at the last show and your owner is pleased!" Here there was a definite sigh of relief. "I know we lost but you went down fighting hard and the crowd was happy...........But am I happy?" Here there was a sudden tension in the air. The Englishman bent down and caught one luckless blonde girl's breast in his hand and squeezed until she cried out. "Am I happy? Am I?" He ground out the words between clenched teeth.

"No, sir!" the girl managed to gasp. He nodded and let her go.

"No! I am not! You would have won if you had fought at your absolute best, but you didn’t try hard enough! We have ten weeks until the next show and we're going to win that one! What are we going to do?" He was standing in the middle of the girls by then and whirled round quickly as he spoke the last words.

"We're going to win!" The chorus came back like lightning.

"Then get back on your feet you lazy bitches and I want to see you hardening each other up till you can walk through anything anyone can throw at you!"

Ayesha watched in horrified fascination as the girls jumped to their feet with every sign of eagerness.

"Platoon one, take on Platoon three with whips! Platoon four fight Platoon two, boxing. Platoon five, divide into two and I want you wrestling!" The orders were snapped out and with military precision the girls split up, some guards ran out of the main keep with more of the leather corsets and while some girls were helped out of them, others were buckled into them. She couldn't help noticing that the process seemed to involve a lot more wincing than she would have thought normal. But within seconds the yard again echoed to the sounds of gladiators practising their brutal crafts. The Englishman waited until he was certain that everything was as he wanted it and then he strolled over to where Ayesha sat. He held some of the accoutrements she had seen the other girls wearing and spread them out before her.

"What do you think?" he asked.

Ayesha stared at the corsets, thongs and knuckle straps. Seen close to and spread out, their true natures became clear. The corsets and thongs were studded on the insides, wickedly sharp little points lined the gussets of the thongs and the insides of the corsets, including, she noted with another shudder the half cups. She recalled the boxing bout she had witnessed when she had first arrived and suddenly she realised why the girls' reactions to the blows had been so dramatic. The Englishman tossed one of the straps to her and out of reflex she caught it. All at once she also understood why the contest had seemed almost as if it was taking place in slow motion. The strap was weighted and it was all she could do to hold onto it once she had grasped it.

"You'll be using these in only a few weeks' time. Believe me," he told her.

Ayesha's stomach flipped as she appreciated fully what those girls had been doing to each other, her throat dried and she found herself unable to speak. A fearful kind of hypnotism
seemed
to grip her as she stared at the implements of this barbaric trade laid out before her and she struggled with the idea that these lunatics seemed to fully expect that she would agree to take part in such things. But if her recent experiences had taught her anything they had taught her that these men could get females to do pretty well anything. Her nose caught a scent of mingled sweat and leather from the pile in front of her and just on the edge of it there was the musk of female arousal. Hesitantly she took hold of and raised the strip of leather towards her face and the scent became more pronounced. The girl who had been wearing this diabolical thong had been excited by it. Whilst wicked little tines had pressed against her labia her vagina had been seeping stickily onto them. The enormity of that thought made Ayesha look up at the trainer. He was smiling at her.

“It takes a bit of training but if I opened the gates now and told the guards to go and have a siesta. Not one girl would even think of walking out of them. Mind you they’ve been on runs out in the desert so they know there’s nowhere to go.”

“You mean they like this?” Ayesha gestured around the training ground, some of the girls were down by then and the contests were coming to their ends. Whips sang and snapped, girls cried out and lithe bodies writhed and twisted in the dust.

“I wouldn’t say ‘liked’ exactly but whatever it is you’ll find out and you can tell me when you do. Come on!”

The Prince’s trainer - as Ayesha now knew him to be - stood up and hauled her after him, then he reached behind her, unlocked her from the wall, freed her wrists and led her out into the melee. When the slaves saw him coming they stopped and watched him carefully. Downed girls scrambled up and a sort of avenue formed in front of them. Ayesha was aware of curious gazes turned on her, the looks were guarded and she couldn’t read any emotion into them at all. At last the trainer stopped and beckoned the girls into a circle, Ayesha found herself the focus of the attention of more naked humanity than she had ever seen in one place. Dusty, scratched and welted girls all stood quietly watching and waiting.

The trainer left her for a moment and strolled around the circumference.

“We’ve got a new girl! And I want a volunteer to show her the ropes.”

Without any pause his arm shot out and grabbed a girl by the shoulder. She stumbled into the ring and Ayesha saw it was an
Arabic
looking girl, with smooth
Semitic
features, long black hair, like her own and a graceful figure, slenderer than hers but still with plenty of womanly curves about breast and hip. She was holding a whip and the instant she found herself in the ring she adopted a crouching stance, her weight on her toes, legs shamelessly open, arms apart. The trainer reached again and took a whip off another girl and he threw it to Ayesha. She caught it clumsily with both hands and examined it. It was a fairly standard flogger, not unlike the one she used on Karen but with heavier blades of harder leather.

The trainer clapped his hands and stepped back into the crowd.

Ayesha glanced across the ring and saw the other girl advancing. Her brain refused to admit what she was seeing, she wanted to scream at the girl that they were on the same side, why put on a show of whipping each other just for the men’s entertainment? They should be leaping on their guards, not fighting each other! Her thoughts were cruelly interrupted as the girl struck. Two lightning fast lashes caught her breasts as the girl worked the whip forehand and backhand. Ayesha actually felt their weight swing across her chest before the blast of pain caught her and she doubled over, crossing her arms protectively. Immediately she felt her back take the brunt of the onslaught and heard the jeers and laughter from the audience. Her bafflement as to why the girl would connive with her enslavers vanished and was replaced with cold fury at being made to look a fool. Gritting her teeth she straightened up and swung her own lash in a clumsy backhand sweep. Her opponent stepped back easily and let the lashes whistle past her harmlessly. Then while Ayesha was off balance she sliced in another two to her breasts. Again there were hoots and cheers from the crowd but this time Ayesha fought down the pain and tried once again to swing her lash. The other girl merely swayed her torso back and again Ayesha’s lash hissed past her without making contact. Once more she struck while Ayesha was off balance, this time flicking the leathers across her left hip and round onto her buttocks, making Ayesha twist in shock as this new target was struck. Two hard lashes stung her back from the other side in such quick succession that they took her breath away and she staggered forwards. Suddenly the other girl was behind her and her whip swung heavily up between Ayesha’s legs, the heavy leathers smacking into her labia. She let out a
guttural
moan and folded with her hands between her legs. Dimly she heard more laughter and cheers from the crowd but then she felt the trainer’s hand take a fistful of her hair and drag her to her feet. Her hands had to leave her stinging sex and clutch at his, her whole body seemed ablaze with pain as she was dragged around humiliatingly.

“Anyone spot any mistakes she didn’t make?”

There was more laughter and then; “You! Out here and teach her some wrestling!”

Suddenly the grip on her hair was gone and Ayesha staggered and blinked her tears away. She found herself facing the blonde whose breast had been so cruelly mauled by the trainer a little earlier. In a similar crouch to her previous opponent, this one sidled in. Ayesha realised that her own whip had gone and this one wasn’t carrying one. How was she supposed to wrestle? She had never even seen it done by men. But at least this time she didn’t waste a second wondering why any of this was happening. It just was. Somehow this man had got these girls to the point where they really would side with him against a member of their own sex.

Grimly Ayesha tried to imitate the actions of the girl in front o
f her, adopting the spread-l
egged stance which seemed so alien to her. Even though she had used sex quite blatantly to get what she wanted she still found the idea of opening her legs nakedly in public deeply disturbing.

Suddenly the girl darted in, gripped her behind her knees and pulled. It was so fast that Ayesha was helplessly toppled backwards and hit the ground squarely on her back. The air was knocked from her in an explosive gasp and as she lay wheezing, the girl stooped, moved her grip up Ayesha’s legs then lifted and simply let herself fall backwards. Ayesha was catapulted upwards and then forwards. She hit the ground on her face this time and before her head had cleared there was a pinning
weight
on her back and she felt her legs grabbed again. This time her calves were bent up and backwards, high over her back. They were lifted higher still. Pain lanced along her thighs as they were stretched, her back seemed as if it would crack under the weight of the girl sitting on it and the strain of having her legs bent so far back above her. Suddenly Ayesha
panicked
, she couldn’t move and this girl astride her was just going to keep on slowly stretching her until something broke. She screamed and beat her fists against the earth. The applause and cheers from the crowd grew louder and louder. Then everything stopped and the weight came off her. She lay face down, panting and hurting all over until a foot under her ribs turned her over and she saw the trainer standing over her.

“You’d better take this. There’s a few more want to say hello.” He handed her another whip.

“No....please!” she tried to protest but he had gone and desperately she struggled to her feet just in time to see another girl, a tall brunette step out from the crowd, grinning and swishing a whip. In despair Ayesha tried taking the initiative and rushing this one but she was far too wily. Ayesha’s back was clubbed mercilessly as the girl dodged easily and she stumbled past her. Three times she tried the tactic and three times was beaten to the ground but still she got up. The combination of the humiliation, the hot stinging of the whip, the pains all over her and the derisive laughter of these stupid bitches who couldn’t see what was being done to them, produced at last a kind of rage which propelled her to her feet.

For a fourth time she staggered forward, half blinded by sweat and this time her opponent stood her ground, flicking her whip back and forth across the fronts of Ayesha’s thighs, making her flinch and try to dance away. Then her breasts were targeted again while she was distracted. Frantically Ayesha flailed in front of her with her own whip, but once again the girl was behind her and got in several more clubbing lashes before Ayesha went down again.

But this time when she was rolled over, it wasn’t the trainer but the victorious girl who stood over her. Ayesha squinted up at the silhouette as she stood over her head, the long legs came together at a crotch which was directly above Ayesha’s face. Slowly the victor allowed herself to sink to her knees, then she shuffled them apart.

Ayesha could have moved, there was nothing apart from her own exhaustion and the pain from the whip holding her down. But there was something horribly fascinating about watching the woman’s sex moving inexorably down towards her face. It was quite plain that victory had excited her as Ayesha could plainly see the way the outer lips had parted and the inner ones were engorged and erect around the vaginal hole.

If it meant that for a moment she could get some relief from the relentless pounding she was taking, Ayesha reckoned that delivering the oral service the girl plainly wanted was a small price to pay. As her latest conqueror settled the last few inches, she closed her eyes and put out her tongue, rolling it into as hard a tube as she could make and pushing it up into the vagina. It tasted tangily and pungently of female excitement and immediately Ayesha slipped into her familiar routine of getting what she needed by giving good sex. She even reached up and stroked the girl’s thighs and lower stomach as she sucked and lapped skilfully. The taste was so pleasantly refreshing after the brutal male sex she had been on the receiving end of recently that she opened her eyes and found she was looking up through the girl’s buttock crease. The buttocks themselves were liberally scored with welts as was her back and Ayesha immediately thought of Karen. But her thoughts were wrenched back to the present by the girl squatting on her face tugging and twisting violently on her breasts while at the same time she began grinding her cunt hard down onto her mouth. Ayesha tried to scream up into the hot moistness above her.