Naked Ambition (10 page)

Chapter Nine

Amelia’s head bumped and jerked against Josef’s back as he carried her, nevertheless she tried to look around her. Outside their stockade, as he marched through the ankle deep mud, Josef passed alongside the arena. It had a concrete base up to about twenty feet and from then upwards was made of wood. However, it seemed every bit as big as any she had seen before, and she noted that it seemed to be open roofed. Mud wrestling it was then!

They went past another stockade like the one they were being held in and she assumed that that was where the opposition were being quartered. If she was right in her assumption about who the Orange team had hired in, then many of her old charges from CSL and perhaps even her ex-master would be there.

Josef marched on. Now they went past another wooden building, it was long and its roofs sloped upwards over what was obviously terracing on either side of the wide central valley. Amelia reckoned it was where the pens would be. Beyond that was a large clearing in the forest surrounded by grandstands. That looked like a dressage ring or pony track, or both. The owner’s house was obvious, stone built and enormous, it was guarded by swarthy men holding long Malacca canes who greeted Josef quite calmly as he passed. In the world of the arenas, a man carrying a naked and bound woman over his shoulder was nothing to remark on. Then they came to a low building with a veranda running the length of its front.

Josef climbed the steps and then heaved her down back onto her feet, she tottered for a moment and looked around her while she got her balance back. Over to her right one of the host’s household slaves had been bent over the railings. She was naked apart from white, high-heeled strappy sandals. Her legs were parted and tied at the ankles to the wooden uprights. Her upper body was dimly visible on the other side of the railings, where, Amelia guessed, her wrists were tied to her ankles. A riding crop jutted out jauntily from between her shapely thighs, just below her flogged buttocks. It had been stuck into her vagina in the wake of a good flogging and Amelia’s heart went out to the girl. She would be desperately clenching her inner muscles on the shaft, trying for any release from the excitement the beating had lit inside her. In vain of course. But for Tony, sitting in a swing chair against the house wall just behind and along from the slave, her wriggling and clenching would be fun to watch. He was dressed only in shorts and waved at her cheerfully when she looked at him. She didn’t know how to respond and instead looked along the veranda. On the other side of the door into the house was a table which was lit by a lamp hung from Eve.

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.

Amelia nodded. Angel leaned across her and pointed to Ninety-two; a big Siberian girl who had been brought in on the same truck as Amelia when she first arrived at the stable.

“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.