Naked Ambition (3 page)

Eventually it seemed to her that as she became more and more inert and supine, the more that attracted them. Sometimes they didn’t bother to penetrate her, just masturbated over her as she lay sprawled across the desk. She vaguely felt spatterings on her back and in her hair as the use of her two nether entrances continued until eventually they were all finished with her. For a long time there was quiet and then she heard them leave and tried to push herself up. Her hands were sticky with sperm and slipped on the polished wood that was itself spattered with the stuff. She tried again and made it this time; shakily pushing herself upright and brushing hair out of her eyes. The office was empty apart from the president, sitting calmly beside her in his chair.

“We…….we have a deal then?”

“Indeed we do, Countess. We will keep our side of it, please ensure that you keep your side of it.”

He looked at her and suddenly she saw the full ruthlessness of him. What she had just been through was nothing more than a warning shot across the bows. If she didn’t have her team fully up to strength and ready to go in eight weeks, she and plenty others of her female staff could face far worse. A vision of Angel’s face swam across her mind’s eye and she determined that she would never see it looking as hers must just now.

Moving slowly and painfully she began to dress again and walked stiffly back to her car.

It was a blessing that Angel wasn’t there to see the state of her when she got back to the stable. In fact she managed to get back to her quarters, shower and change before anyone saw her. Angel was in England for a few days with what money the stable had and Sadia still had another job to do before she returned.

She went to the office and eased her tender bottom onto her chair before reaching for the phone. From outside, down on the training ground came the sounds of a punishment beating being counted out. Smiling she listened, picturing the victim stretched out in one of the big frames; the squad all lined up to witness the punishment and the lashes being called.

She raised her eyebrows as the total passed thirty lashes and kept going. Someone had really been shirking!

At forty the punishment ceased and Sadia pictured the long lash being coiled away neatly for next time. It encouraged her. Discipline was good and the squad was well trained. She had had a tougher afternoon of it than she had expected but she had got what she wanted. Men followed their cocks – always had done; always would. And a sensible woman could ensure they went the way she wanted them to. She would win through and so would the Girl Squad.

She dialled a number and sat back, wincing just slightly.

“Eric dahhhling!” she cooed as the call was answered. “Can I drop around and see you some time this week? What? Well, it’s a bit of a favour I need. No! No! Everything’s fine! …..Yes! Friday will be perfect. I’ll fly in Thursday night and stay at the Imperial. It’ll be simply lovely to see you again, dahling! Mwah!”

She sat back and relaxed. At least she knew she had Eric wrapped around her little finger. Angel had been quite right, just a fuck every now and then to keep him happy and he would stump up the cash. For another twenty slaves she might have to consider a blow job – she rolled her tongue round her mouth, recalling the taste of sperm – but that was nothing she couldn’t handle either; just so long as Angel didn’t have to watch!

Chapter Three

Angel gunned her hired car along another mile of boundary road. Beside her the high stone wall of The Lodge ran, topped with razor wire and backed by dense woodland. She had ignored her sat nav once she had reached the main gate, late on a fine summer afternoon, and had instead set out to try and get an impression of the size of the estate. Of course everyone with any connection to the world of SM knew of The Lodge, but even she had not realised just how big it was. For mile after mile the wall stretched with the tall trees behind it allowing not the slightest glimpse of what went on within.

It was the UK’s premier SM club, and specifically for male doms. Angel of course had no problem with submissive females, she adored them as much as the next Master or Mistress, but she wasn’t sure how the members would react to her. The world of The Lodge and the arenas was about as male dominated as it was possible to get – as recent events attested to vividly. But there was no help for it. The CSL stable that was contained within The Lodge’s parklands, was the only quick source of fresh blood. Someone had beaten them to it but there was still talent for hire and she needed all she could get her hands on.

She came to a crossroads and took the road to her right, keeping the wall on her right and eventually came back to the massive gates. She wound her window down and sounded the intercom buzzer. A girl answered almost instantly.

“Angela Smythe for Carlo Suarez,” she said curtly.

“Please use the main car park in front of the house and you’ll find the check in desk in the main hall, just up the steps and through the lobby.”

The gates began to swing ponderously open and Angel drove through, finding herself on a drive lined with stately lime trees. She followed it for over a mile before coming to a rise and, breaking out from under the tree covering, she found herself at The Lodge proper. The car park stretched away to her left once she driven past the imposing frontage of the house itself, and she found a space, took her bag out of the boot and looked around. The parkland swept down and out to all sides, surrounding the house’s commanding position on its hill. A golf course had been laid out immediately below the slope. Over to her right she caught a glint of sunlight off water and could just make out a lake beyond some stands of trees. It could all be nothing more than a very select country house hotel, she thought as she turned to face the house. But then you saw the ponies and traps outside the front door.

Angel smiled as she took in the bridled and restrained ponies with scarlet plumes nodding above their heads and the beautifully tooled blinkers. One pony had silver cones on her nipples, the other had an ornate, steel necklace on that hung down over her chest and between her breasts. They were tethered, still harnessed between the shafts of their traps, to a rail that was mounted on the wall beside a sweeping staircase that led up to the enormous front doors.

As she approached the house, Angel could see the ponies were sweating and they stamped and shook their heads irritably as the flies bothered them. She also noted approvingly that both carried criss crossing pink stripes across their backs and buttocks from the driving whips that now stood in their rests beside the drivers’ seats.

One of the front doors opened and a girl came out. Angel had of course heard of The Lodge’s Housegirls but had not seen one before and she had to admit, she did look stunning. The girl was a blonde wearing a long, old fashioned, full length dress in sky blue satin. She was clearly practised in wearing it because she held the full skirt up just enough to allow her to run down the stairs. The very low cut bodice allowed Angel to see the delectable mounds of breastflesh shake and ripple as she did so.

“Hello, Madam! May I help you at all?” If the girl was startled to see a woman at The Lodge who wasn’t a Housegirl, she hid it well.

“No, it’s okay thanks. I’m just going to check in,” Angel told her and began to climb the stairs.

The girl curtsied prettily and went to the ponies. She pushed her way between them and unhitched their reins, then clicking her tongue she backed them up a little. One of the ponies, with black hair, cavilled and tried to wrench her reins from the girl’s hand. Angel was about to put her case down and go and help but saw the girl gather both ponies’ reins into one hand swiftly and skilfully, then use her free hand to deliver three ringing smacks to the skittish pony’s bottom.

“Settle down Amber!” she scolded and took the reins again, jerking them harshly. The pony settled at once and the girl resumed leading the pair round towards the back of the house, where Angel assumed, the stables were. She was impressed, the girl was obviously not just a pretty face.

Inside the front door, the illusion of a country house hotel took hold again and Angel looked around the lobby at the golf bags and golf shoes, the fishing rods – the day’s catch laid out on the tiles floor in front of them – a hotel with a very masculine clientele, she corrected herself, and tensing in readiness for whatever reaction she might get she pushed on, opening a further door into the main hall.

Although it was still only late afternoon, the chandeliers were already lit and across the seeming acres of rich, crimson carpet, the light fell on girls dressed similarly to the one she had already seen as they hurried back and forth carrying trays of drinks to and from the lounges over on her left. To her right she glimpsed through an open door, a large dining room with tables laid with crisp, white, linen cloths. Girls, again in those curious dresses, were busily laying out cutlery and placing glasses on each table. Beyond that door and a couple more, a wide staircase swept up to meet a mirror image one from the other side of the hall at a landing. Portraits of men and women in eighteenth and nineteenth century clothes, stared down from the walls.

“Can I help you…..Miss Smythe, isn’t it?”

Angrily Angel realised she’d been standing and gawping like a peasant invited up to the Big House. From behind a desk by the left hand staircase, another Housegirl was smiling over at her.

Angel went across and wordlessly signed herself in.

“Thank you,” the girl said, when she had filled in her card. “Room 254, in the East Wing.” She handed across a room key whose fob was a figure of a naked woman, hanging by her wrists, which were joined around the metal of the key ring. Angel couldn’t help smiling at the attention to detail.

The girl rang a bell.

“I’ll have your bags taken up to your room. Mr Suarez asked me to say he’ll meet you at dinner, when you’ve had a chance to shower and change. Doctor Sands will come to your room in about an hour and will be pleased to show you around.”

Another of the Housegirls, a brunette this time whose bodice could hardly contain her breasts, had appeared and picked up her bag.

“If Madam would follow me?” Again there was no hint of curiosity about a woman guest. The training and discipline was obviously very good.

They climbed the stairs and as Angel followed the girl she noticed something odd about her dress. It seemed that under the wide pleats of the full skirt that were sewn onto a deep waist band, there was one pleat that wasn’t exactly a pleat – it looked as if, although the material overlapped quite widely, there was a split in the skirt, right between the buttocks.

As Angel followed the girl along corridor after corridor and up another staircase, she became more and more certain. And also she became more and more determined to try a bit of dominance and see if she was accepted as a domme.

“Stop!” she said at last. The girl did as she was told.

Angel came up behind her and took hold of the skirt, parting it where she thought it was split and sure enough, under an overlap of satin, the skirt opened. The girl’s stocking clad thighs were revealed and her naked buttocks. Angel smiled when she saw them. They bore the unmistakable traces of a recent caning. And a good one as well, she judged, by the yellowing bruises.

The girl looked over her shoulder at her, a little nervously.

“That’s a good caning! And the skirt opens so you can be groped or fucked, I take it?”

The girl seemed relieved, as if she was used to this – and Angel supposed she was!

“Thank you, Madam. Monsieur Poillerat does deliver a very hard caning! And yes, we can be grope……um…..enjoyed by any of the members at any time. However, if we’re found out, we get punished.”

Angel gestured the girl on and followed, smiling broadly. She approved of a rule that stipulated that the submissive was at fault for her superior breaking the said rule. Very right and proper.

Her room had superb views over the lake and the woods and hills beyond – all still within the perimeter walls. It also had a four poster double bed with, and Angel checked straight away, chains hanging from each post.

She decided on a bath and was still only wrapped in her short, towelling robe and was drying her hair when there was a knock on the door. She considered asking the person to wait but then shrugged. Whoever it was, in this place they were hardly likely to be thrown by female undress.

At the door stood a neat, trim figured woman, slightly shorter than herself with cropped fair hair. She was wearing a strapless, full length evening dress in beige and although she wasn’t big breasted, her nipples peaked the material very obviously. She had the sort of athletic figure that Angel liked on other women.

“Carlo asked me to drop by and help you settle in,” the woman said.

Angel draped one arm over the top of the door and cocked her hip, giving the woman a slow up and down look.

“That was kind of him,” she said after a few seconds.

“Whoa!” the woman said holding up a hand, palm outwards. “I’m Doctor Sands. Don’t worry, there’s plenty of subby playthings to go around, believe me! But I’m just here to show you round and help you understand how it all works.”

Angel shrugged and grinned without embarrassment, then held out her hand as she stepped back to invite the woman in.

“I’m Angela Smythe. Most call me Angel.”

“Hi, I’m Chrissie. I’m also vet to the CSL stable.”

As soon as the arenas and stables entered the conversation, the ice was broken and Angel dressed while they spoke of training regimes, injuries, cures and the scandalous price of slaves just now.

When Angel had booked her room, the girl she had spoken to had warned her that dinners were formal affairs at The Lodge and so she had come prepared and slipped a little black number over just a thong. It was knee length and quite modestly high at the neckline. Neither woman had been the slightest bothered by Angel’s almost complete nudity as she dressed; Chrissie only commenting, “Hmm! Nice tits!” when Angel had shrugged off the short wrap.

Now she stepped into a pair of outrageously high-heeled designer sandals and Chrissie nodded approvingly.

“Now, before we go down, let me tell you which women are available to you and which are off limits.”

Angel was all ears.

“I’m afraid you can’t use the Housegirls unless a member expressly gives you permission. Whether the girl is directly owned by the club or on loan from her owner while he’s in residence, the members pay for them and have owner’s rights. However, you can use a pony and I’ll take you for a drive around the grounds tomorrow before you get down to work.”

Angel was fine with that.

“With CSL it’s different. You’re hoping to hire some stock, so feel free to play with the slaves or the grooms as you please. No whipping outside of training for the slaves who’ve been booked unfortunately, they’re in strict run-up now for the next games. But the grooms are gorgeous! I’ve got sort of ownership of one of them, and believe me they can take all the play you’ll want to dish out!”

“Sounds good to me! But what’s all this about the split skirts on the Housegirls? It sounds perfectly fair but I don’t understand why the rule’s there in the first place.”

“Ah! When The Lodge was set up, Madame Stalevsky who trains and organises the Housegirls, didn’t want them being fiddled with while they were doing domestic work. But John Carpenter who owns the whole thing – you’ll meet him at dinner – wanted them available so he had the slit put in and to pacify Madame with the compromise, if any girl is caught being played with, she gets the beating and the member pays a small fine. That way everyone’s happy.”

Dinner was quite simply superb. She and Chrissie sat at John Carpenter’s table with Carlo Suarez and his two assistants, Brian and Tony. Over the soup and fish – a fillet of Sea Bass, simply, yet exquisitely prepared and presented – talk of the arenas flowed easily. Carlo was a burly man, not much taller than herself, whose shoulders threatened to burst his dinner jacket.

He was a legend in Angel’s world, the man who had trained Blondie – the most famous of all gladiatrices, and somehow, Angel’s squad was going to have to face her at the Orange team’s arena. Her two opposite numbers, Brian and Tony were polite and helpful but the Housegirls, leaning over the diners to provide or remove courses, were a constant source of distraction. Their breasts so nearly on blatant display…..but not quite.

Carlo leaned across to her at one point, when her lambs’ livers with melted onion had been served and the girl’s breasts had brushed her bare shoulder.

“Don’t worry. In the Common Room afterwards, you can enjoy yourself. And if you want me to send a groom over later…..” He grinned and left the sentence hanging.

“Thank you Carlo. I think I might need to take you up on that,” she replied and lifted a glass of a light Rousillon Villages to him.

The Common Room was on the first floor and was vast. In here, any girl, even if she had been booked for bedroom service was fair game. A member who wanted to play with a girl in relative peace, could take her to one of the dungeons.

For Angel it was a mixed blessing. There were wonderful pieces of bondage furniture and racks upon racks of implements to use on the compliant flesh available. The men were unfailingly polite and invited her on several occasions to discipline this or that girl, hung in a frame or bent backwards over a bench.

Her demonstration of breast beating was warmly received; a naked blonde was shackled for her – the Housegirls’ dresses were quickly shed with the use of one zip – and she was able to explain how, by taking one’s time and varying the target of the beating, a sub could be kept at boiling point for a very long time, until she was tearfully begging for an orgasm. Once she had driven the blonde to that point, she surprised her audience by abandoning the whip, a sturdy flogger, and instead simply grabbing the girl’s nipples and twisting, pulling and pinching them simultaneously. The resultant yell of combined agony and orgasmic release, temporarily hushed the entire room, before enthusiastic applause took over.