Naked Ambition (13 page)

The first run lasted for five laps before the rider curled his lash round the girl’s thighs and brought her crashing down. He was off the horse in an instant and pinned the girl down. A further pistol shot signalled the end of that run and the rider took his reward.

It was entirely up to him whether he took her mouth, anus or vagina but while he was busy her fate was being decided by the crowd. The judge held out his hand with his thumb up and the crowd agreed. It was a sunny morning and five laps was not a bad start. She was spared the lash. The giant monitors showed her swallowing her conqueror’s sperm as his thick shaft plunged in and out of her wide stretched mouth.

Then it was the turn of a Girl Squad slave.

Legs was first up and she made ten laps. It wasn’t just her speed, it took the rider three goes to bring her down fully, she rolled, squirmed and wriggled each time she was brought down and managed to get to her feet before the rider could dismount. The crowd loved it and she too escaped the punishment session but her pursuer was angry at having been made to look foolish and she took several hard lashes from the long stock whip before she was fucked.

The next Orange team member made eleven laps but after her, Sam brought the house down as she sprinted for no less than fifteen before she was brought down in a cloud of dust and was taken from behind on all fours by the rider who took his belt to her back as he fucked her. It wasn’t strictly within the rules but it amused the crowd so no one bothered to stop him.

The fourth slave to be released was on a hiding to nothing. The crowd hadn’t sentenced one slave to a punishment yet and they surely wouldn’t let this one off, no matter how well she ran. She made a respectable ten laps but the whim of the crowd sentenced her to forty lashes.

Purdy was next out and got an extra loud cheer as she set off, her big tits swinging heavily. But nevertheless she was fast and it took the pursuit rider several laps before he was even in with a chance of catching her with his whip. Then she began to duck and dodge in the way he and Brian had trained all the CSL stock. As soon as she heard the horse gaining on her she kept close to the centreboard and then darted out to try and startle the horse and make it check. She made that tactic work on several occasions and gained two extra laps before the horse caught up again. She dropped onto the sand of the arena floor, her long legs out in front of her in a skid that she had learned back at the stable and Tony applauded as the horse overshot her and was pulled up violently while she darted round it and was off on another lap before the rider could start off again.

She made seventeen laps and was brought down by her own exhaustion as much as by anything else. The pursuit rider treated her to a dozen or so heavy lashes from the stock whip as she lay gasping for breath before him, and he redeemed himself in the eyes of the crowd. The sight of her breasts quivering under the lash was well worth waiting for as far as they were concerned. He took her on her back, lifting her legs up onto his shoulders and really thrusting deep into her, the cameras following the thick rod of his cock as it disappeared into her and withdrew before plunging in again and the arena echoed to her cries as she was fucked by her eventual conqueror.

Next up was none other than Blondie.

Like Sam and Purdy before her, she was a product of CSL training and had competed in some of the earliest stagings of these events, and so had almost helped write the book on how a naked girl could avoid the lash for as long as possible.

She ran with all her customary grace, her long legs flying, her mane of hair streaming behind her. But her pursuer, a man who had joined Sadia’s stable after half a lifetime in the saddle on the steppes, was older and more wily. He didn’t bother trying to land the whip on her when she ran close to the centreboard and he didn’t get so close the horse could be spooked. He knew Sam and Purdy had clocked good scores, so he had a bit of time to play with.

Tony had to admit that Angel had picked exactly the right rider to put up against Blondie. When he was ready to strike, he steered his mount out wide at full speed and curved back in to confront Blondie as she was about to swing around one end of the boarding and he brought her down in a clean, single lash that pinned her thighs together and wrapped her legs twice more to the shins. She went down backwards and was even dragged a few feet before the man sprang from the saddle and pinned her with an arm lock.

The crowd stood and applauded. It was one of the cleanest pursuits any of them had seen and even Tony was lost in admiration.

It wasn’t until he was helping to lead the slaves back to the dressing room once the competition was over that he realised that it was the first time Blondie had ever failed to clock the most laps in a pursuit running event.

Sam’s and Purdy’s totals stood for the whole of the competition. Even Jet could only match Sam but not overtake her.

Chapter Twelve

Amelia waited patiently to be led into the pens. The Girl Squad slaves were tongue tethered to hooks in the wall of a corridor which led out onto the long concourse that ran the length of the building. The steel barred pens stood in a row between banks of terraced seating. Angel had chosen her for a wrestling bout, beside her Seventy-six stood, kitted out in the leather corset and weighted fist straps of a boxer. Blackie was on her other side, naked like herself and ready for a wrestling bout, a few slaves along and Rose stood, kitted out for a boxing match too. This was where they would see if the strategy they had mapped out on the veranda would really pay off. If they could just hold their own in the arena then in the pens they could really hurt the opposition.

Just before a guard came to unhook her leash and lead Amelia out, Angel appeared, flushed and smiling, running her trade mark riding crop across her slaves’ breasts.

“Give ‘em hell in there, you bitches!” she said. “We’ve beaten them in pursuit running!”

Amelia’s heart raced. Again that was better than they had dared hope for.

She was pushed into her pen at the same time as a brunette was pushed in through a door opposite and both doors were bolted shut. From the pens, there was no exit while both girls stood. In front of them and behind them the crowd stamped and cheered as both girls went into a defensive crouch and began to circle each other, looking for weaknesses.

Angel could scarcely believe what was happening. She strode up and down outside the pens, slapping her thigh with her crop in her excitement. To one side and behind a flimsy fence the crowd was getting into the spirit of the catfights taking place for their entertainment.

Most of the women in the audience were being given vigorous seeings-to from behind and although there were more and more of them attending the arenas these days, there were still plenty of men to go around, and most women had a queue waiting to take their turn. Some dominants had come equipped and as the squeals and grunts from within the pens became louder, so they were pegging the nipples and labia of their naked subs who knelt in front of them.

That little slut – Ninety-seven – had been right. If the squad could hold its own in the arena, then it could forge ahead going into the last day. And they had done more than that! They were in the lead mid-way through the day.

As she strode past a pen she paused as two naked bodies crashed into the bars and then recoiled in a spitting, hair pulling, tangle. Despite the grimace, she recognised Ninety-seven and smiled as she watched the girl grab at her opponent’s crotch, lift her and throw her face first against the bars. She got an arm up to protect herself but Ninety-seven was right behind her and went in for a crotch hold. From behind she rammed her thumb into the girl’s anus and her fingers into the vagina. With her other hand she got a fistful of hair and then lifted the girl off her feet, her whole weight resting on the hand in her entrances. It was a real crowd pleaser and Ninety-seven milked it, holding the wriggling, screeching girl aloft as long as she could before wrenching her hand free and letting her drop. With a despairing wail the girl folded into a foetal position, nursing her genitals, rolling on the ground.

Angel paused long enough to watch Ninety-seven stroll round the pen taking the applause and waiting until her opponent was ready to continue – there was no point in hurrying a good defeat.

As soon as the brunette staggered upright, Ninety-seven darted behind her, twisted her arm so the girl had to bend forward and then stood astride her head. Simultaneously she used her thighs to make a painful headlock and her free hand to start spanking her opponent’s bottom. Angel felt she didn’t need to watch any more, Amelia – or whatever the slut’s name was, seemed well in command. Further along the line of pens Rose was putting the finishing touches to another wrestling bout, her foe was almost totally limp and needed to be supported between throws but the audience near her pen were loving it. As Angel passed, the CSL girl had her opponent by the hair and was teasing her, slapping her face and breasts, making her paw ineffectually at her tormenting hand, then she let go of her hair and before she could fall the CSL girl had a crotch hold engaged and was looking round at the audience as though asking whether she should hoist the girl. The girl herself was begging for mercy but the thumbs all came out pointing downwards. Rose gathered herself and lifted.

With the shriek still ringing in her ears, Angel moved on to watch Cherry coping easily with a boxing bout. And in the next pen, Seventy-six was locked in a struggle with her opponent. The two girls were leaning against each other, swinging their weighted fists at each other, trying to hit the parts where the tines on the insides of the leather corsets would dig in but in fact all they were doing was pushing each other’s breasts onto the metal studs while their fists only hit their sides. But as Angel watched the Girl Squaddy managed to push her opponent away long enough to land a blow to her breasts and another to her stomach. The girl doubled over and turned away from her tormentor who calmly stalked her round the pen, picking her off at will.

Angel felt that everything was well under control and strolled back towards the dressing room beneath the arena in high good humour and ready for a lunch break.

The first event on the afternoon’s agenda was a sixty-a-side melee with rather heavier lashes than had been used on the first day. With so many girls out on the floor of the arena it had not been thought possible to influence the result by very much. What was going to happen, would. In the end the Girl Squad fielded Sam, Cherry and Lucky from CSL and played their own reliable all rounders.

The rules were simplicity itself; a shot signified the start and the clock would run for an hour. At the end of that time, the team with most members still standing was declared the winner.

Although all the girls were armed, pretty much anything went; kicking, punching, hair pulling – it was all good spectator sport. Duels formed and broke up and clumps of desperately struggling girls formed, writhing on the floor and always the cameras kept a voyeuristic eye on the thrashing limbs, quivering breasts and squeezing hands. The whips smacked home sending up sprays of sweat and oil from the naked, gleaming bodies and on the terraces the orgies resumed.

Amelia sat quietly in her cell and listened to the cheering and the shouts. She was on next and it was what she had chosen for herself; the studded whip duelling. With her eyes closed she ran through all the moves she had been taught by Angel plus all those she had seen Carlo and Brian teach the CSL slaves.

A sudden noise made her open her eyes and she saw Tony entering her cell.

“Just thought I’d tell you how things are going,” he said. “We wiped the floor with them in the pens. Only Fiji and Beast did any good. And it’s honours even after the melee. About thirty each side left standing. Cherry did a fantastic job, took out five or six, and Sam and Lucky were close behind her. CSL’s got some rising stars alright and it looks like the Girl Squad might come through this okay!”

His tone was light but Amelia could see that there was concern on his face too. Back at CSL there would a post mortem and it would not go unremarked that the younger girls had outperformed the older ones.

“Purdy did a brilliant run in the pursuit,” he went on. “Even Blondie couldn’t beat her.”

Their eyes met. They both knew the significance of that.

Amelia stood up and put her tongue out. Tony had her leash in his hand and she knew it was time for her to go out and face Blondie with a studded whip.

In the dressing room, together with the other slaves she had helped select for this event, she stood with her hands on her head while she was prepared. Again she was oiled so that her body would shine in the sun and the whips would send up a visually pleasing spray for the cameras. Then she was equipped with her armour.

Ever since the studded whips had been introduced in the early, piratical and unregulated days of the arenas, owners and trainers had struggled to find the best way of presenting this event to the crowds. Everyone enjoyed seeing the exciting marks the lashes left but even the best trained slaves were sometimes reluctant to commit fully to the fray with them. And owners likewise were often concerned about lasting damage to valuable stock. Various devices had been employed to force slaves to confront each other but eventually someone had stumbled across the fact that if a slave had some protection for herself, she would be much more aggressive towards her opponent. The armour also gave the owners comfort that their livestock wasn’t being too badly damaged. The whips themselves had also developed into long, plain hide lashes with the slightly blunted studs concentrated into a widened area at the end of the lash, giving it the ability to land a clubbing blow and leave eye-pleasing welts without drawing blood for some considerable time.

Tony and the guards buckled on shin guards, helped her step into a leather thong that provided protection from an opponent’s upper cut and then buckled on a wide leather belt that protected her stomach at the front and her kidneys behind. The final piece of protection was a steel helmet that had projecting cheek guards and a panel at the back of the neck that went down onto her back. Then she was given her whip and a small lightweight shield.

When all six slaves had been prepared they were led out into the tunnel and came face to face with the opposition. Checking their clipboards the guards positioned each slave opposite her opponent. Amelia watched the tall blonde figure take its place opposite her and stare at her calmly. If she had felt any surprise at seeing one of her erstwhile grooms appear in a squad, Blondie had obviously got over it after the pony races.

The compere announced the next event and to deafening cheers they were marched out in pairs. While the voice blared over the PA, describing the delights to come and explaining the rules – such as they were; it was a count up how many were standing at the end event – Amelia tested the ground under her bare feet, seeing how firm or soft it was. The rains had held off and it was iron hard – even a little slippery. She glanced up at the sky and saw that although it was bright overhead, there were signs of clouds building in the distance behind the grandstand roofs.

She drew her attention back to the job in hand as a judge strode out and raised his starting pistol. She shook out her lash, settled her legs apart and faced Blondie, her shield at the ready.

Tony, Angel and Sadia all sat forward as one as the pistol was raised. In the owners’ box there were video screens all down both sides as well as the best view in the house directly in front as it was situated over the entrance into the arena. They had played their three best solo fighters and added Amelia, Sam and Lucky for this event. The Orange team was playing Blondie, Tigre and the imperturbable Fiji along with the cream of their own stable.

The pistol fired and unlike with other events a watchful hush settled over the arena. Aficionados of the arenas would play and replay videos of these fights, discussing every lash and every dodge each girl employed.

If they could just draw this fight, the home team would have an uphill struggle on the final day. Tony chewed his knuckle distractedly as he watched Blondie step confidently forwards, swinging her lash in a lazy-looking overhead throw. Amelia ducked and covered with her shield and backed off.

The whip clattered harmlessly against it and Amelia flicked out sideways with her own lash. Blondie twisted and used her shield to guard her hip, then launched another strike; this time she crouched and swung low. Amelia leapt back and again caught the lash on her shield, then swung overarm and Blondie wasn’t quite quick enough to sway backwards. The lash thudded home – audibly even in the terraces - on one shoulder. There was a gasp from every quarter as the famous blonde visibly flinched and then skipped back to regroup.

“Don’t waste energy!” Beside him Angel was whispering through tensely gritted teeth. “Make her come to you, you lovely bitch!”

As he glanced sideways, Tony saw on one monitor a close up of Fiji already finishing off her opponent. The unfortunate brunette was reeling backwards trying desperately to delay the time when she would have to turn her back and take the full fury of the whip there. Inevitably she lost her footing as she backed and went down, sprawling in the dust. From there on it was just a matter of time. He turned back to the arena itself.

Amelia resisted the temptation to follow up her early success. She knew that Blondie would exploit any weakness she showed in coming forwards. Instead she kept just at the limits of Blondie’s whip, making her come forward, making her expend energy. It was very rare that an opponent struck the first blow against the tall blonde and it rattled her out of her normal, calculating calm. To Amelia’s delight she strode forward and tried to bludgeon her way through Amelia’s defences but she found that if she kept her concentration and stayed alert, she could deflect the strikes quite easily. And she kept backing away.

Once, Blondie stopped pursuing and Amelia nipped in quickly. She used her shield to knock her opponent’s whip out of the way and launched a bruising blow that wrapped Blondie’s middle back and the studded head of the whip thudded home on the side of her right breast. She cried out and even through her adrenalin haze, Amelia heard the arena applaud. Two good, marking lashes without a reply from Blondie herself. It was unheard of. And now Blondie seemed to recognise the significance. She launched a blistering attack, swinging the lash fast overhead and then bringing it low, trying to bring Amelia down, but Amelia kept backing off and working her shield, dodging and skipping lightly on her feet.

After a few moments she saw what she was after. The attack faltered and Blondie stood before her, chest heaving and sweat running freely down between her breasts. It dripped off her nose and she had to wipe her forehead to clear her eyes. Amelia took a quick swipe and caught her across the fronts of her thighs, then skipped backwards.