Naked Ambition (17 page)

“I think I might be able to – let’s say – make life a little difficult for Angel at the least, and then we’ll see what we’ll see. I’ll need to know what she wants to bid.”

Sadia told him and he whistled. “She needs to go now, Sadia, she’ll bankrupt you at that rate. But if she’s going that far over the top, it plays into our hands. I’ll make a few calls.”

“Thank you dahling,” Sadia purred. “I’ll see you at the club next week. Can we put that blonde piece through a real session this time. I’m sure she can take a lot more than she’s been getting.”

“For you Sadia, we’ll make a pin cushion of her!”

Eric put the phone down and punched the air. That Angel bitch had just signed her freedom away, if he was any judge of things, and that meant that Sadia would be free to concentrate on him. He picked up the phone once more and dialled.

“Peter, I’ve got good news for you. I can give you the figure you need. Match it and I don’t think anyone else will be in the running. Added to that her mistress wants to dump her, so she’s up for grabs alright – just doesn’t know it. Yet.”

John Carpenter looked at the two pieces of paper incredulously.

“We’ve had over two hundred bids! What are the odds on two coming in exactly the same to the last penny?”

Carlo shrugged. All he was concerned about was the size of the two bids. Whichever was settled on, he could build a new, bigger stable block and add three new slaves. And probably have some small change! For the first time in weeks he was feeling happy.

“So how do we decide on whether to take Peter Lang’s bid or Angel Smythe’s?”

“Well,” Carlo said slowly as an idea occurred to him. “They both want her, let them compete against each other to get her.”

He explained his idea to John.

Chapter Fifteen

Angel slung her case out of the car and stared around. She had never been to Scotland before. Gillhoolie House, surrounded by thickly wooded hills, rivers and lakes, was set almost ten miles from the nearest town and stood in the middle of its own huge estate. It was also owned by one of the members of The Lodge – as Carlo had told her when he had phoned her to explain how they were going to work a tie break.

She picked up her case and walked into the huge, granite porch and from there into the main hall, whose walls were haunted by the heads of dead stags, boar and otter.

A polite enough maid, a young woman dressed demurely in knee length black skirt and crisp white shirt, showed her to her room and when she had freshened up she went down for dinner.

As she showered she reflected that Sadia was behaving very oddly. Firstly she had flagrantly interfered with her running of the stable over that little bitch, then she had suddenly caved in regarding the bid for Ayesha and released the Ninety-seven creature back into her hands, where her punishment had been able to continue properly while she got on with running the rest of the bitches.

For all she knew, Sadia would have the insolent little cow in her bed by now. Well, let her! If she could get her hands on Ayesha – and get what she was really capable of out of her – Sadia could keep her little harem. She would be the trainer they would all want! Maybe the Prince of Bakhtar himself would want her. Now there was a man who understood discipline!

By the time she was finished and had gone downstairs she was feeling much happier.

Apart from the serving staff, she was the only female present but that was something she was well used to. She recognised Carlo of course but the tall, spare, suntanned man who was talking to him over a drink as she entered the library was not so familiar. Then with a shock she realised it was Peter Lang who had been the trainer of the Prince of Bakhtar’s stable until recently. She wondered how much he resented her part in what she supposed was his downfall. The men stood beside the fireplace, which was unlit on this late spring evening, beneath an impressive painting of moors and grouse being put up.

Carlo smiled at her as she approached. She had been expecting a male domain and had dressed accordingly, she was wearing a long, clinging dress that was cut quite high at the neck but which was dramatically split up to her left hip, leaving the leg to flash its nudity tantalisingly as she walked. She wore no bra and without looking, knew that her breasts shook and swung in a man-bewitching way as well. Carlo knew the trick though and kept eye contact with her until he was able to introduce Peter, who made no attempt to disguise his admiration of her body.

They shook hands and Carlo summoned a different maid to fetch her a glass of wine.

“When Ralph joins us,” Carlo said, “we’ll explain exactly how this hunt will work.”

“I’d like to see the quarry,” she said.

“Do you think I might’ve nobbled her?” Lang asked with laconic amusement.

“I have my reasons!” she snapped.

Carlo made a conciliatory gesture and summoned the maid.

“Show Angel to the stables, let her examine the goods in any way she wants,” he said.

She was guided outside and had to hold her dress up off the cobbles as they crossed a stableyard and entered the stables. She was impressed. Whoever this Ralph was he knew his girlflesh.

No fewer than six ponies were stabled and were being attended to by a brunette with thick hair held back off her face by an Alice band. She had a shirt and jeans on and filled both very well, Angel noticed as they smiled and nodded at each other.

“She’s been here since Tuesday, the maid told her,” leading her to the far end of the stalls. “They’ve not had her out at all and she’s getting pretty restive.”

Ayesha was prowling up and down her stall, the chain that locked her right ankle to the wall at the back, clinking and slithering. Angel let herself in and immediately went to the slave’s right leg; it was the one she had damaged in the chariot smash.

A smack on the flank made the slave lift her foot obediently as Angel bent and examined the leg, bending and flexing it, twisting it and listening for any gasps of pain. She seemed sound enough. Had there been any weakness, Angel wanted to know about it. If they were to hunt her, then it might make all the difference. – especially if she knew something that Peter Lang didn’t.

Satisfied, but disappointed that there didn’t seem to be damage only she knew about, she let herself out and the maid led her back. The groom stopped what she was doing and gave Angel a blatantly lascivious stare as they approached. Angel stopped and went close to the girl, who stood her ground.

“Where’ve they put you?” she asked Angel.

Angel was intrigued and taken aback by the girl’s lack of any compunction about making such an obvious move.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she said, seeing Angel’s surprise. “Daddy knows I do pretty much what I like when I’m home.”

“First floor, third door along on the left of the landing.”

The girl nodded. “Go and do what you’ve got to with the men. I’ll drop by later.” She tossed her thick hair and smiled brightly, winked and went back to work.

Angel felt the evening suddenly held a lot more promise than it had a few minutes earlier. But she wanted to get things just a little clearer and she caught the arm of the maid walking ahead of her in her demure uniform as they crossed the yard.

“She’s the daughter of the owner, right?” she asked.

“Miss Sara is the laird’s oldest daughter, yes,” the woman told her calmly.

“And he doesn’t mind who she shags?”

The woman flinched from the crudity. “Miss Sara follows in the family tradition of doing pretty much what she wants,” she said, and for the first time a slight smile crossed her face. Suddenly Angel realised that the woman was not unattractive, despite her rather conservative dress. And of course this laird was a member of The Lodge.

“And he does pretty much what he wants with you?”

The woman inclined her head. “Pretty much,” she agreed and went inside the main house. Angel followed, intrigued but determined not to be distracted. There was work to do after all.

Ralph Lockhart was a powerfully built man with a florid complexion and a full head of brown hair – like father like daughter, Angel thought. And over an excellent dinner of langoustine and a cold collation of locally reared beef and venison, he explained the rules of the hunt.

A board was brought in with an Ordnance Survey map pinned to it.

“As you’ll see, the estate is bordered to the north by this lake here…..and by this river to the West. The rest of the perimeter is bounded by eight foot high fences with razor wire for the top two feet and CCTV is in operation. I have no desire to allow anyone to see what goes on in here!” He paused and grinned at the maid who was topping up the wine glasses.

She blushed and curtsied.

“I believe Angel has seen my stable,” he went on. “Some of the finest stock north of the border. So back to business, there is no chance the quarry can escape. She will have exactly what you will have except for the binoculars we’ve provided for you. Water, sleeping bag, simple rations. She’s been told she has to stay free of both of you for two days, if she can, she’s been promised she’ll have Purdy in her stall for a week. After that, if that happens, she’ll be put out to tender again. All you have to do is subdue her and lead her in. It’s up to you to decide for yourselves whether you attempt to wrest her from the other on the way back. All Carlo is concerned about is that she is captured and paid for. Whatever happens out there is up to you. She goes to whoever leads her back to this house. We will make one concession however. If we haven’t seen either of you making any progress by the day after tomorrow, we might have a drive and put her up. Then leave it you to bring her down.”

Angel looked across at Peter Lang who seemed almost insultingly relaxed.

“Do we start off from the same place?” she asked.

“No. The quarry will be released at a secret location an hour before you start. And you’ll start from completely different locations.”

It seemed quite straightforward. Angel had always made her way in a man’s world and knew she was as fast and as tough as some men. Was more cunning than most and was utterly determined that Ayesha would be hers. Already she could envisage her ‘inbox’ filling up with enquiries about her services when, with Ayesha properly restored to her brilliant best, her Girl Squad had carried all before it at the first home fixture.

The rest of the meal passed with normal male conversation and Angel joined in occasionally but her heart wasn’t in it. It rarely was, she was thinking more of the full lips and succulent figure of the laird’s daughter. She stayed for one glass of brandy and noted that the tray it was delivered on to Ralph, apart from bottle and glasses had that most Scottish of implements on it; a tawse.

She was happy to leave the men to their amusements with the domestic staff, in fact she hoped that Lang would make a real night of it!

In her room she slipped out of her dress and knickers, slipped under the duvet and turned the light off. She was tired in any case, so even if the girl didn’t show up, she would get her sleep.

In fact she was woken in the dark by the feel of soft hair tickling her back and she felt the mattress sink slightly. There was a waft of expensive perfume and then the feel of breasts against her back and of a belly against her buttocks. Then the girl was curled up, spoon-like against her back and her hands were roving gently across Angel’s stomach and chest, feeling for the weight and curve of her own breasts, seeking the nipples.

Soft lips kissed her shoulder.

“So tell me, Angel, what’s it like to have sooo many bitches to whip and fuck and do whatever you want to?”

Angel reached behind her and felt the warm, graceful curve of a female waist and hip and she smiled in the dark. Well she would sleep all the more soundly for a little pleasure…..

She twisted onto her back and spread her legs.

“Lick me out and I’ll tell you all about it,” she whispered back.

“Oh, we can do better than that!” the girl returned, giggling. There was rustling and movement beside her and Angel felt the girl’s breath caress her thighs, while her own thighs settled on the pillow beside Angel’s face, the pungent fragrance of her cunt filling Angel’s nostrils.

“I’ll tell you later!” she said and buried her face between her invisible lover’s legs.

It was much later when she did, but she slept well and was fresh for the hunt the next morning.

Chapter Sixteen

Angel hefted her pack onto her back and looked around as the Jeep lurched off back down the track. All round her was a fir plantation. She thought for a moment and then headed uphill. She reckoned she needed to see how the land lay. It had looked a pretty big piece of land on the map and Ayesha could be anywhere. The sun was warm so her nakedness wouldn’t be a factor yet, but she would probably go for cover somewhere where she could hear or see pursuit coming.

A fir plantation could be perfect, but they wouldn’t have dropped her right on top of the quarry would they? But how would they know? Thoughts whirled through Angel’s mind as she started off uphill anyway.

Her feet slipped sometimes on the mat of pine needles that covered the ground, the air was hot and still and she was soon sweating. But after only half an hour or so, she broke out and found herself at the top of the hill overlooking the lake and open country beyond. She sat down and took the binoculars out then surveyed everything before her. Apart from some cattle she could see nothing moving. The far perimeter was just in sight, so the task of finding Ayesha was not impossible and perhaps it was best to keep to the high ground and keep watchful. She kept her eyes glued to the binoculars and swept across a promisingly open piece of parkland just South of the house.

And there, just at the edge of a small copse she caught a glimpse of something – of course! The bitch was naked, she wouldn’t want to go into heavy cover where there could be briars and nettles. She was sure she had seen a flash of olive skin. She was so intent that she never heard a thing and by the time her head cleared it was far too late.

Lang poured some cold water over her face and squatted down so she could see him clearly as she blinked her head clear. He let her examine how she was tied. She was lying on her face with her legs parted and her ankles bound behind a tree trunk. Her arms were likewise pulled behind her and bound to the same tree. She was also naked.

He watched as all these realisations were borne in on her.

Then he went to a bag and took from it a heavy and bitterly sharp hunting knife, she assumed it was the one he had used to slice her clothing away, then he took out a hood, a collar and a lead.

“Just so there is no misunderstanding. Any duplicity is entirely mine Angel. I was trained in a part of the army that places heavy emphasis on self-reliance so I made sure I knew where, when and how this was being arranged. Then I also made sure I had all the winning cards. I came here a couple of nights ago and left this little bag of goodies ready to be dug up.”

He sat down in front of her. “Ask me any questions you want to. In a moment I shall deprive you of speech – amongst other things – and I would like you to know what is being done to you.”

Angel struggled against her bonds in involuntary panic but there was no give anywhere.

“W…why?” she whimpered. She was alone in an isolated place with a man who had very little reason to like her. And he was a man who had jumped her, tied her and now had a very large knife in his hand.

“Angel, I shall walk back to the house with both you and Ayesha on leashes. Ayesha I can have eating out of my hand at any time; believe me. That means I am free to concentrate on you.”

“You can’t! I won’t!” Despair made her voice stronger and with a sudden inspiration, she screamed as loudly as she could, and went on screaming until she was hoarse. Lang didn’t move.

He waited till she had choked to a stop. “No one on this estate bats an eyelid when a girl screams,” he chortled. “The laird is partial to outdoor pursuits I believe. And now if there are no further questions, we’ll begin. I haven’t got as much time as I’d like but I think it will suffice.”

He picked up the hood and moved towards Angel who tried ineffectually to jerk her head away. It was a thick and stern affair with heavy pads over eyes and ears and a mouth piece that could be zipped completely shut, but there were also press studs that could be undone to allow some breathing. Only at the nostrils were there any holes that couldn’t be closed off. He lowered it gently over her head as she whimpered and pleaded and then buckled it firmly about her neck, not too tightly of course. Just firmly enough so that her darkness was complete.

He had had to adapt his technique to suit the circumstances once he had learned how the hunt was to be conducted, but he didn’t think that Angel would present too many problems. He had a hunch that she was farther along the road he wanted to take her down that anyone, including herself, knew. He stood back and let her breathing calm down as she accepted the inevitability of the hood and then he carefully untied her and helped her to her feet. Even cowed and huddled, she was a splendid looking woman. A real adornment to a man – and she was going to be. There was no doubt about that. Back in Bakhtar he had used the dark of the passages behind the old fort to lead Ayesha through until she was broken in. But as he had stalked Angel up here, and on his reconnaissance visit, he had seen enough of the country to believe that he could take her on a wild enough ride.

He came close to her and touched her upper arm. She jumped, the hood was doing its job perfectly. He fed the collar round her neck and buckled it as well. It wasn’t so important to his immediate plans but he knew it would disturb her, and he wanted her disturbed. He had left her hands tied behind her and now took the leash, clipped the karabiner over the rope that bound her wrists and passed it between her legs. She shied and shivered, tried to jerk away and succeeded, only to trip backwards and sprawl on the grass – her head inches away from a fallen log. Angrily he hauled her up and unzipped part of one ear pad.

“Don’t be so bloody stupid! If you do as I say, no harm will come to you. Fight me and I may not be able to help you. There are steep paths and sheer drops on this estate and I will tell you when you are balanced on the edge of one! Trust me and I will bring you safely home. Panic and you might fall!”

Angel stood stock still as the import of his words sank in. She had seen crags and streams away to her right when she had sat with the binoculars. The extent of her peril was becoming ever more real to her and Peter Lang smiled as he took up her lead, gathered his pack and his bag, stuck his knife in his belt, selected a sharp stick that would seem to her, when she felt it on her skin, to be a large, heavy, steel hunting knife – she had seen it hadn’t she? – and whistling quietly through his teeth he led her slowly on what was going to be the longest journey of her life.

Utterly lost and sobbing in terror, Angel gingerly shuffled one foot in front of the other, feeling nothing worse than grass and twigs under her feet. The lead rubbed against her inner thighs. The air was cool on her goose bumped skin and she tried desperately to recall where she was, had there been any sheer drops? Any dangers that he could be leading her into. And why was he doing this anyway? To break her into being a slave like Ayesha, he had said. That was ridiculous, she was dominant – always had been! – but just at the moment she did have to admit that the bastard was holding all the aces. Perhaps she had better go along with whatever he wanted, until the lunatic returned her to the house. Then she could get help! Carlo wouldn’t let this happen! Ralph Lockhart wouldn’t let this happen either. Her thoughts shuddered to a halt. As long as money changed hands, who cared about the slaves? As long as they were kept healthy of course! But that was what her world was founded on and now she was at the bottom of the heap. A prisoner, held naked and vulnerable at the mercy of a man who seemed terrifyingly confident in his ability to do whatever he wanted with her. But somewhere there must be someone who would help her. She just had to endure until they turned up.

Angel felt the ground slope down more steeply and tried to mumble through the mouthpiece, to whimper and beg. Where was she being taken?

At last she felt his hand on her arm and for a fleeting second was grateful for the contact. One ear pad was unzipped slightly and the press studs across her mouth.

“Do you trust me?” Lang’s voice whispered close beside her.

For a moment she almost burst into hysterical laughter. Was he mad? But common sense kicked in just in time.

“Oh yes!” she gushed. “Yes, and you can trust me too. Just let me see and I won’t make a sound I promise!” Never had sight seemed so important as it did now in the Stygian black, leather smelling claustrophobic darkness.

He laughed and his touch was gone and the pads were refastened.

She felt a tug on her leash and a sharp point touched her ribs. Her mind filled with images of the huge knife she had seen him heft. Sobbing she felt ahead of her with one foot. The ground seemed alright. She slid her other foot up to it and felt ahead again. It felt like wood now. Narrow, just about as wide as her foot. She felt wind against her skin and the ear pad was undone a little. She heard water. How far beneath her was it?

“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “I won’t let you fall if you follow me.” Again the leash was tugged and she shuffled on. The wood trembled and she screamed. His hand was on her arm again.

“Two more paces, Angel. I won’t allow you to fall.”

She sobbed again, seeing in her mind’s eye the tumbling waters of a mountain stream rushing below her, she had seen them on the way up here. This must be some kind of fragile plank he had rigged up to terrify her. Well it was working, she felt as if she would wet herself as she slid her foot forward again and then again and then there was grass under her feet. Her sobs turned to laughter and she would have collapsed to her knees if she had dared.

So far so good, Peter thought as he watched her. He kept hold of the leash and went forward to stroke her for a bit. The plank she had crossed was two feet long and three feet above the water, her own mind had done the rest. But working to her logic he needed to congratulate her and reinforce the fact that no matter what danger she was in; he wouldn’t let her fall.

For Angel the torment was an eternity. The noise of her blood and her breathing filled her ears. Timidly she followed the insistent pull between her legs. When the urge to pee got too bad she stopped and refused to move. He took the leash from between her legs and with his hand led her to somewhere where she was made to squat. For all she knew there could have been thousands of grinning spectators and for a long time her bladder refused to work. But once it had, to add to her complete humiliation, she felt him dry her with some leaves, before he stood her up, passed the lead between her legs and led her on. They went uphill at times and at others they seemed to be on the level but always she proceeded at a terrified shuffle.

Then at last she was allowed to kneel. Her leash was dropped and she was able to relish the relative security of not having to move forwards into darkness. She gathered that he was moving about, from time to time she would feel faint vibrations in the ground beside her, sometimes there would be a brush of cloth against her.

Then finally, just as she was about to shiver, she felt warmth. He had lit a fire. Soon he came to sit beside her and unzipped her mouth covering and one ear pad. Then he fed her from his hand. She was too exhausted from fear to complain and at least if he was feeding her it meant he wasn’t about to do anything terrible to her. Didn’t it?

When she was feeling a little better, he helped her to come a little closer to the fire. She heard it crackling, quite close. She tried to hang back.

“Trust me, Angel!” he urged her. “If not I’ll have to punish you!”

A storm of revolt flared up in her. He was not going to punish her! How dare he! She wasn’t some subby bitch cowering before her master, she shook free of his grip for a second and threw herself back onto the cool grass. His hand was around her ankle instantly.

“Now I will have to!” he said quietly.

Wriggling and writhing as best she could, she fought him until she was bound to a tree with her ankles secured to the trunk and her hands wrenched up behind her, making her bend forwards. Her breasts hung full and vulnerable beneath her. He stroked and caressed them to underline that point. Suddenly it seemed to Angel as if there were no more fear she could feel. She crumbled into abject crying as she knew that whatever he was going to do to her poor breasts, there was nothing she could do about it.

She felt a growing warmth come towards her chest. She screamed as a source of heat came closer and closer. She tugged at her bonds and begged for mercy. Then there was an appalling, blinding pain at her left nipple and she reared in despair and panic. But it came again at her right nipple. Horror after horror fled through her shattered mind. What had he done to her?

There was absolute stillness and as she calmed, a new sensation filtered through into her brain. Her nipples were dripping something cold. She sagged in her bonds and shamelessly let her bladder go. She had done similar things in dungeons before. Mindfucking helpless subs into believing that what they were feeling was intense heat when in fact it was just an ice cube. Lang must have soaked something in a stream to chill it, then with one hand held a taper and with the other touched her with something cold.

“Why!?” she groaned as she felt him clean her up again and then release her and bring her back to kneel by the fire.

He unzipped her ear pad more fully.

“Because you must trust me. Every slave must trust her master absolutely.”

“I’m not your bloody slave! I’m nobody’s slave!”

“Not yet,” he agreed calmly. “But you’re not really a dominant are you?”

“What do you mean?” It came out more petulantly and more sharply then she had meant and for a second she cringed in case he punished her again.

He laughed softly. “No, I’m not going to punish you. But you haven’t been honest have you? I’ve always seen it in you. Tell me about subs and slaves. You like them don’t you?”

The direction of the conversation was so unexpected it was a blessed relief.

“Yes,” she conceded. “I like the way their bodies move when I play with them. I like to watch them come when I beat them or use needles.”