Naked Ambition (4 page)

Smiling, she resumed her seat with Carlo, Chrissie and the rest of the party for liqueurs. The naked girlflesh was delectable but some of the men it was submitting to Angel found less than attractive. So on one hand the sight of a kneeling girl with her mouth wide open to encompass an impressive erection, was pleasant enough for her but on the other, the sight of the man to whom the erection belonged, rather deflated her arousal. She could take men like Brian, Carlo and Tony – fellow athletic dominants, but not some of the others.

When she decided to call it a day in order to have a clear head for the next day, she gratefully accepted Carlo’s offer of sending across a groom called Helga.

She undressed quickly and slid under the quilt in the dark, lying quietly and just idly teasing her clitoris as she waited for the girl. At last there was a soft knock at the door and when she answered, the girl slid in.

“Mistress? I’m Helga and Carlo told me I’m yours tonight.”

Angel propped herself up on one arm.

“Get your clothes off and eat my pussy!” she ordered.

There was a rustling in the dark and then Angel felt the warmth of another body slide in beside her. It was quite a turn on to realise she didn’t even know what the girl looked like. She was just a body to be used for her pleasure. Her nose caught a hint of perfume and soap as the girl started to wriggle down the bed to service her.

The evening had left her on the edge of release and just a few licks on her clitoris made her come.

After that her hands explored a body which had breasts of quite adequate size with long, rather slender nipples and narrow hips. However, her cunt was extremely elastic and Angel was able to fist her after only a few minutes’ penetration with her hand. She orgasmed with pretty little cries and whimpers. In the dark it came as something of a surprise for Angel to discover that the girl was branded. Her fingers traced out a rectangle on her hip within which were the letters CS and L. Helga murmured proudly and contentedly as her Mistress for the night traced the outlines and admired the brand.

Angel made her go down on her again and had her sleep between her spread legs so that she could continue first thing in the morning.

She slept deeply and woke to see the sun already shining through the heavy curtains. Between her spread thighs was a delightful tickling sensation from where Helga’s hair lay on her thighs. She gave the girl a gentle kick and sighed as, without any demur, she got down to licking her cunt out all over again.

When she had dismissed the girl, Angel showered, dressed in her jeans and shirt and went down to breakfast.

She felt slightly more at home after the previous night and when the waitress brought her croissants to her table she availed herself of the split in the back of her dress and felt her way into a very moist cunt. The buttocks were markedly ridged she noted as she withdrew her fingers and wiped them on her bottom.

“You in the dungeons last night?” she asked.

“Yes, Madam,” the girl replied. Angel looked at her more closely and noted the dark rings beneath the eyes. The girl smiled at her and left.

The same girl served her coffee and Angel repeated her explorations, this time taking time to stimulate the clitoris as well as the vagina. The girl’s hips began to rock in response and Angel looked around to see if anyone was going to notice and stop her, but there was no one and she kept the frigging up until a long groan escaped the girl and Angel let her go.

She was licking her fingers and savouring the mixture of tastes with the coffee when Chrissie arrived.

They shared a sociable meal while around them the men ate, planned their day and some reserved girls for playing with later by attaching disks with their room number on them to their collars.

“I thought we’d go for a drive while they’re getting the slaves mucked out, washed and fed over at CSL,” Chrissie said, then added with a smile, “besides you can’t get too much of driving a good pony!”

Angel couldn’t have agreed more and the two women strolled out via the front door and around to the side of the house and the stableyard. Two perfectly presented rigs awaited them and Angel saw a pretty, Asian girl brushing out one of the ponies’ hair. She was dressed in a short kilt with a blouse knotted up underneath her breasts, it was the same uniform that she had seen Helga dress in hurriedly when she had been dismissed earlier that morning. Attractive, and it presented very little difficulty for someone wanting to investigate beneath the clothes.

The girl looked over at them and smiled widely, then stood back respectfully as they came closer. Beside Angel, Chrissie suddenly seemed to pull herself together and become much more positive and assertive. She strode forwards and began to inspect the ponies.

Angel noted the pretty Indian groom looking nervous and began to see what was going on. She smiled as she watched Chrissie testing the tightness of the cruppers and the correct alignment of the girths, adorned with The Lodge’s crest in chromium on the front, where it widened to cover the stomach. She pulled on the bits to make sure they had been pushed securely to the backs of their mouths before the bridles had been buckled on. She looked at their backs to check on the girth buckles and found that she could slip her fingers between one pony’s skin and the leather of the girth.

She turned to Angel triumphantly.

“Daft little tart always gets one detail wrong! Raika! Come here you useless slut!”

The Indian girl darted forward, her huge, expressive eyes clouded with concern.

“You’ve embarrassed me in front of my friend here with your sloppiness. Go and get a crop so I can thrash you!”

Dropping the slight curtsy that the short kilt would allow, the girl scuttled away.

“That the one you sort of own?” Angel asked.

“Yes. Long story. But what a lovely piece of arse!”

Angel had to agree when the girl returned and was immediately bent over a hitching rail; her arms extended on each side along the bar. Chrissie stepped forwards and lifted the short skirt, tucking it in to its own waist band to keep it out of the way. The coffee coloured buttocks were smooth and deliciously round and pert, with no sign of a crease at the tops of the silky thighs. And when she shuffled her legs apart, Angel felt a tide of hot moisture at her groin as she saw the dusky little purse of the neatly lipped cunt.

Chrissie wasted no time and cracked in a telling lash almost as soon as the groom had gone down. It was plainly a common occurrence in the yard because no one batted an eyelid at the sharp report of leather on skin.

Angel was impressed, Chrissie hadn’t flicked; the groom had taken a full swing and the doctor had followed through fully as well, flattening the buttocks and sending a delicious shock wave through the flesh, even of the upper thighs. The groom gave no more than a hiss through gritted teeth and took two more with no more reaction.

Chrissie offered Angel the crop as the girl made no move to rise.

“Feel free,” she said and Angel willingly stepped up to the mark behind the exquisite arse. She smiled.

The girl’s submissiveness was obvious – and her Mistress had known exactly how to trigger it, by offering her up for punishment on a whim. Angel had no compunction in taking full advantage of the offer and thoroughly enjoyed adding another three crisp, buttock-rippling strokes to Raika’s tally.

It was the perfect warm up for their whip arms.

As they climbed in and settled themselves, Chrissie explained that the ponies were from the stock of Housegirls, all of whom served from time to time in harness.

“But don’t conclude they’re all docile because of it. Some of them like to express a rebellious side between the shafts.”

Angel smiled and examined the back of the pony she was now seated behind. The shoulders were broad and the back was shapely. The hips wide and the legs quite long. She wouldn’t have minded betting that this beast would give a good ride anywhere –and once again she felt a tide of warm moisture at her belly.

In front of her the pony stamped her sandal-shod foot and as Angel gathered up the reins she ducked and twisted her head, pulling impatiently.

“Ah! Did Carlo tell you to give me the liveliest one in the stable?” she called across to Chrissie, smiling broadly.

“Now that’d be telling!” the doctor called back cheerfully and with a quick flick of her whip, tongue-clicked her pony up.

Angel tugged hard on the reins and brought the pony’s head up before lashing it back and forehand across the buttocks.

The pony started off but was plainly skittish, shaking her head and prancing as she headed across the cobbles to follow Chrissie through an archway and out into the park. She dragged one wheel of the trap against a corner as they entered the arch and jolted the rig quite harshly. Angel whipped her again and the pony skittered sideways, her sandals’ scraping and clopping echoing loudly against the stone walls of the short tunnel. Angel pursed her lips as she dragged the pony’s head to face the direction of the road again and waited till they were out in the fresh air. Then she reined in with brutal force and swung the driving whip back and forth across the buttocks while holding her reins tightly.

The pony squealed through her bit and tossed her head as Angel smacked the whip cord home against her back and shoulders; she didn’t stop until the pony was fully cowed and subdued and Angel was panting from the exertion of thrashing her.

Chrissie had stopped and had turned to watch over her shoulder, smiling broadly as Angel gathered herself, swept a stray lock of hair off her forehead and tongue-clicked the penitent pony forwards once more.

“Actually Carlo’s instructions,” she told Angel as she brought her rig alongside at a leisurely walk, “were to make sure you got an enjoyable mount!”

Angel laughed and looked at her pony’s lividly striped buttocks rippling as she walked.

“I’ll thank him myself,” she said and flicked the pony up to a trot.

The day was fine and the two women spent a relaxing hour trotting along tracks that criss crossed the golf course before the golfers had really got started and they met Brian coming the other way at the fourteenth. In contrast to themselves he had his pony at full stretch, the rig’s wheels rumbled on the dry ground and the driving whip smacked and curled high in the air above the sweat-streaked slave’s back.

When he saw them he reined in so harshly the pony’s feet nearly went from under her as she leaned back against the weight, tossing her head and spraying lather and sweat. At the last moment, he yanked her head round to the right and the rig did a little skid as it came to a halt.

Angel was impressed by the driving skill and by the toughness of the pony but recognised male antler rattling when she saw it and kept her face neutral.

“Good morning!” Brian called out as his pony champed at her bit and stamped in irritation at having her run interrupted.

“Which one’s this?” Angel asked, unable to identify the pony from behind the heavy blinkers and bridle, although she had studied the CSL brochure online.

“This is Legs,” Brian told her, stroking her back with the tip of the driving whip and making her shudder with what Angel recognised as the mingled fear and lust a slave should feel towards her owner. “She’s coming on well. Just needs a bit of toughening up.”

“Don’t flay her too much, I might need her if she’s not been booked!” Angel reminded him.

“Nah!” Brian grinned. “She’ll be fine! See you at the yard.”

He hauled the pony backwards a few prancing steps and then whipped her away, lashing her on with undiminished fervour.

Chrissie and Angel watched him go, admiring the speed and smoothness of the pony’s gait, despite pulling a heavy, male driver.

As Brian’s whip continued to play as it faded into the distance, Angel gave her own shiver of suppressed lust. There was so much deliciously submissive girlflesh on view and so little was available to her. It was not normal for her.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you something a bit special to play with before the day’s out!” Chrissie called as they resumed their rather more stately pace.

Chapter Four

Sadia stepped into the air conditioned, leather scented luxury of the car sent for her and sat back as it pulled away.

“Join me for dinner with some friends and we can discuss your stable’s needs,” Eric had said. She had outlined the problem to him on the phone once she had checked into the hotel and he had seemed oddly unsurprised and quite affable. Normally he winced audibly at the mention of any more outlay at all.

But she expected she would be able to handle him alright. She always had up till now and she smiled as she glanced down and smoothed the crisp linen of her skirt across her thighs, just a few, but tactically so important, inches above her knees. Her legs were long and shapely in any case but she had pampered them deliberately over the previous few days.

It had taken her a day or two to recover from the president’s office but now she felt she was ready for whatever Eric could do to her vagina. The dear man was so eager! He practically salivated if she so much as crossed her legs. But it was so much fun watching him make a slave suffer while she and Angel made love – his infatuation had its advantages! She stretched with pleasure as she recalled the way Angel’s cunt gushed with fragrant juices while Eric made a slave squeal and cry out. But on the few occasions she had allowed him to fuck her, he hadn’t been too bad. So really, as long as Angel didn’t have to watch, she didn’t think the evening would throw up anything untoward.

And she was still convinced of that when the car swung off the road, rumbled across a wooden drawbridge, dived briefly into darkness under a barbican and finally pulled up in the main courtyard of a restored but obviously very old castle.

Eric stood back from the window as Sadia stepped out from the car and smoothed her jacket and skirt. He had waited so long for this!

He turned to his dinner guests, a group of men and women whose clothing and manner marked them out as all being of a similar rank to Sadia.

“We have the evening’s main event!” he said. “After dinner I shall drive the deal through and we will add the Countess de Groncourt to the diversions that await us in the dungeons!”

A man came forwards and shook his hand. “We know how long you’ve planned and waited for this. It will be a pleasing entertainment indeed.”

Eric laughed aloud in relief and delight.

“It had to happen! If I just kept her short of stock for long enough, she’d come crawling.”

Everyone raised their glasses and drank just before a butler in full 18
^th
century regalia ushered her into the room, which was panelled in oak and glowing in the lights.

Smiling, Eric advanced and kissed her cheek, inhaling the fragrance of her perfume and revelling in the feel of her soft skin against his.

Then, keeping his arm about her waist, he introduced her to his other guests. Sadia caught the drift of the names and titles as he smoothly guided her from group to group; they were all very rich. Perhaps these were the ‘angels’ who would back her purchase of new livestock.

At last, having smiled politely, shaken hands and air-kissed her way around the room, she was led to a table covered with bottles of Krug and Eric poured her a welcome glass.

“Who are all these people?” she asked. Her meetings with Eric had previously been more in offices than castles. “Can they help me?”

“No, my dear,” Eric said with a strange, cold smile that Sadia didn’t like the look of one bit. “They are merely the audience. Although they are fellow members of our little club, the rest of whom are held in the dungeons downstairs. But we’ll see them in due course. Now let us eat and discuss our business afterwards.”

Sadia was disturbed. Eric had suddenly become harsher and more stern, and she wasn’t entirely sure she knew this new Eric. But the meal was superb and the talk was all about her favourite topic; slaves.

It transpired that Eric and his friends had a small and exclusive sm club all of their own and it regularly met at this location. Between full meetings there was a complement of live-in slaves tended to by managers and the various couples could come and stay and play as often as they cared to.

“But, alas!” Eric said as the meal finished and the butlers cleared away the crockery. “Business now calls. You go on without us and we’ll join you soon enough.”

With a scraping of chairs and excited talk of the delights waiting in the cellars below, the other guests disappeared and left Eric and Sadia alone.

“You sly old fox!” Sadia said. “All this time and you never let on about any of this!”

“I am indeed a great deal more subtle than you have given me credit for, Sadia,” he told her gravely, topping up her wine glass. “Now tell me again what the problem is and let’s see if I can solve it.”

“It’s simple. We rushed into our first games to replenish the coffers. We won and now some of the other stables are ganging up on us, using CSL stock. We’re short handed and if we don’t get at least twenty more good quality bitches – we’re finished. Or that’s what Angel thinks and I’ve no reason to doubt her. We’ve got to have the new stock before our first home games.”

Eric pursed his lips and wandered slowly over to the window above the courtyard.

“Good quality stock is costing very dear just now,” he said at last.

Sadia felt on safer ground here, this was more the usual Eric.

“Darling Eric. You’ll find me more grateful than ever before.” She went to stand behind him and put her arms round him, resting her head on his back, pressing her breasts against him.

“Hmm. You will have to be, Sadia. Indeed you will. You shall have enough for your twenty but hear my price.”

He turned and looked down at her, his eyes dark and dangerous suddenly. Sadia backed away.

“In return for funding this new purchase, I will have you as my consort here whenever the club meets. And like all the other women you have just dined with, you will wear tokens of your subservience to me.”

“What tokens?” Sadia asked.

“Rings,” he said succinctly. “At nipples and labia.”

Sadia smiled – it was all a joke! No one in their right minds would think of putting rings on her! Not the Countess de Groncourt!

“And,” he continued steadily, advancing towards her, “a tag, so whoever fucks you knows who you belong to.”

She struck out and landed a stinging blow on his cheek.

He merely smiled and grasped her wrist, crushing it to the point where she sank to her knees, whimpering.

“Of course, you can always refuse and the Girl Squad will die.”

A vision of her darling Angel watching her stable go down to humiliating defeat after defeat, flitted in front of her mind’s eye.

“Well?” he demanded, his grip tightening.

“You would make me a whore!” she spat.

“No. I would make you
my
whore!” His tone and face were calm and implacable, and Sadia knew she was doomed.

There was nothing she could do. But she had seen innumerable piercings and didn’t think she could suffer them herself. It was what happened to submissive bitches, not dominants like herself. But for Angel and for the honour of her stable………there just didn’t seem to be a choice.

Eric seeming to sense her acceptance of the inevitable, relaxed his grip and allowed her to stand.

To her immense relief she was allowed an anaesthetic spray before the procedures, which were carried out in a room in the castle basements, with the other club members watching.

Eric led her down a grand flight of stairs to the main hall and from there through what must have been the original kitchens but which were now deserted and echoing. He took her through an arched door and then they descended again, this time on bare stone, spiral stairs until they emerged into surprisingly tall cellars, the roof supported by huge, thick stone pillars. Red shaded lamps provided a suitably subdued illumination. Around the door they entered by were gathered tables and sofas and on these the members she had already met reclined. Some of the women’s breasts were revealed and Sadia noted that they all sported the rings she had been promised. However, what caught her attention most were the waiters – the slave managers, Eric told her – they were well-built men and naked apart from leather trousers that left their sexes naked. Most of the cocks were limp or only semi tumescent but some were thickly erect and were being energetically sucked by some of the women, who were sitting forward or leaning over the sofas’ arms to service the men.

The drinks tables were glass panels resting on the backs of naked female slaves, on all fours. The slaves were held in place by slender chains running from nipple rings to rings in the stone floor and from labial rings to the same rings in the floor.

“The Countess has agreed to be my consort and will accept her marks,” Eric announced and immediately there was applause, and as Eric led her on, the company stood and followed them. They went into a white-painted room with a medical bench, bright lights and cupboards and shelves of implements. A large, hooded man, again naked apart from open crotch trousers, stood beside the bench, his thickly muscled, tattooed arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Undress and then suck his cock,” Eric told her bluntly. “It’s for your own good. He works better when he’s relaxed.”

Sadia did as she was told and was rewarded by admiring comments on her legs, bottom and breasts from the assembled guests as she stripped. The man beside the bench also betrayed some arousal and by the time she knelt before him, his cock was throbbing and stirring. She leaned forwards a little and placed her hands on his hips.

“No!” Eric immediately barked. “Hands behind your back!”

She complied and felt his hands descend on her head. So it was to be a fellation where she would be mouth fucked with no control whatever. At least he tasted clean, she thought as she licked his helm and then his shaft before opening her mouth wide and gently lowering it over the huge, glistening helm, her tongue running along the meatus as she did so. He filled her mouth completely and she had no choice but to

flatten her tongue and allow him full access. Unlike the last men to have sampled her mouth, this man at least appeared to appreciate a skilful fellatrice and although his thrusts were deep, he was content to withdraw enough to allow her to tongue him on several occasions before he finally clamped her head between his large hands and fucked her mouth until she felt the splashes of thick sperm jet out into her throat and she had to swallow quickly to keep up with him. He lingered at her lips for a few moments to allow her to clean him properly and then he courteously helped her onto the bench, lifted and spread her legs into stirrups and tied her wrists to a spreader bar above her head. Sadia just had a last chance to look down at her unadorned nipples as they were sprayed and then she shut her eyes tightly once she saw the hooded man pick up the piercing needle with the gutter at its tip into which the ring would be threaded and pulled back through once the initial hole had been bored.

“We don’t use a punch, Sadia,” Eric explained. “We like the women to savour the experience of being decorated for us.”

Scarcely half an hour later that Sadia was helped shakily to her feet and applauded as she examined herself in a mirror. The nipple rings stung bitterly but looked quite attractive she thought, but at her crotch the two rings – one in each labium – felt leaden and heavy; especially the one on her right. From that ring depended a silver tag over an inch long with the club’s name on one side and Eric’s name on the other. The rings were spring loaded and one end had been slotted hard into the other, she had even felt the jerk as the catches had taken. They would have to be sawn off if she wanted them removed, Eric told her gleefully.

In truth, Sadia was a little bit proud of the decorations and even spread her legs apart to see the tag dangling between her thighs. At least Angel would know how high a price she had paid for the new stock. But worries about how her lover would respond to her cunt being identified as belonging to a man and how much pain there would be when the spray wore off were put to the back of her mind as one of the men clapped his hands and instructed the managers to produce the slaves so that the evening’s entertainment could continue.