Bound for Glory (13 page)

The two men who had delivered them grabbed two leashes apiece and dragged the girls off in the wake of Holroyd, while another man began to hose down the van’s interior. They started off in the direction of the house but Holroyd soon stopped and pointed with his crop towards the forbidding fences.

“Those aren’t for keeping you bitches in!” he said. “After a few weeks you won’t want to be anywhere else but here! That’s the beauty of you dumb clucks, you end up loving everything we do to you. No, those are for keeping out men who think that they might be able to get a quickie off you without paying for it! And the owners aren’t having that!” He turned to face them. “Anyone can do anything they like to you, and some of the things they’ll do, you can’t even imagine. But apart from me and my men; they pay! You might be slavesluts but you’re an investment and we will protect that investment. It’s the best protection you can hope for.” And he turned about and strode on. Anna followed as her leash was jerked. On the one hand it was a comfort to realise they had financial value – and in the van it turned out she had fetched nearly double what the others had – but she hadn’t liked the bit about things she couldn’t imagine. She already had a fair idea but was there even more? Her stomach lurched in a mixture of fear and anticipation.

Holroyd stopped again just in front of the main house and explained that it was the administrative centre for the stable and where he and his men lived. The actual arena that they would fight in as their home ground was some miles away on the outskirts of the nearest city.

“From time to time you’ll be brought over here for when we want a bit of entertainment after a hard day’s work,” he said. Then he took them past the metal buildings and explained that they were training arenas where they would practise if the weather was too bad outside.

“Don’t get me wrong! We’re not bothered about a bit of discomfort for you! Oh no, believe me we’re not. But if I think that keeping you outdoors might get you laid up and not able to earn for the stable, I’ll bring you in. That’s the only standard I work to, so get used to it!”

They were briefly shown the rooms where the gear was stored and shown the various whips they would use – and which would be used against them - and the harnesses for the pony racing and chariot racing. Last of all they were shown the well oiled, single tail whips used for punishment and the whipping posts out on the compound were pointed out.

“I’ll not have a girl give less than every single ounce of effort she’s got for this team. Be told!” Holroyd barked.

The bungalows were the barracks, each one held about a hundred slaves and as they went past, the lights went out and men exited them, locking up behind them. These men came up to the party and exchanged shop talk about the doings of the squads of slaves kept in each bungalow. Anna couldn’t really concentrate however as, while they talked, the men took the opportunity to feel up the new recruits. Hands pawed at her breasts while their owners talked to Holroyd, fingers pinched her nipples and there was laughter as she gave half-cries, half-sighs of longing as the pain earthed itself at her belly. And then their hands were there, questing imperiously at her delta, demanding entry to her body. As soon as she felt hard fingers rasp against the softness of her inner thighs, she planted her feet well apart and just abandoned herself to the pleasures of the anonymous explorations inside her. Next to her Tracey’s warbling cries rang out as she came and the Asian girl gave surprisingly hoarse growls as she too climaxed and the strange girl gave soft mews. But Anna hung on grimly, she wanted as big an explosion as she could get.

“This the star then is it, Boss?” asked the man whose fingers were currently inside her. “Nice cunt on it, mind you she always looked like class when you saw her in the papers.”

Anna gasped as another man came up behind her and prodded her anus with a finger.

“Bit tight in this end though,” he said, screwing the finger around and pressing it forward at the same time until the sphincters reluctantly gave way and Anna felt both men’s fingers slide against each other on either side of the septum dividing her passages.

“Don’t fret, lad. I’ll get her started tomorrow,” Holroyd told him. “Now let me get on and you can have them in due course.” To Anna’s dismay, the fingers withdrew and she was left at the very edge of orgasm. It was a lesson she would remember – grasp whatever pleasure was on offer in the instant it was offered. A slave could never predict what might be coming her way next.

The tour went on as the dusk came down and a chill breeze began to blow down from the heathland that stretched up behind the compound. They were led across to the other side of it and shown that the other bungalows they had seen were where the playrooms were located, where members of the public, who could afford the prices, were allowed to hire the slaves by the hour after training. Each room was a veritable temple to the arts of sado-masochistic pleasure. There were benches and tables and racks and whipping posts in the centre of each room, all with straps and shackles aplenty, and on the walls were X crosses, racks of chains, clamps, dildos, pegs, whips, crops, canes and floggers. Anna remembered having had great sex laid on similar tables and benches while the men in question had been thrusting into her driving her to the climaxes which she realised were mere mole hills compared to the peaks of delight she could obtain now. But she clearly remembered the backdrop of smacks and thuds coming from other parts of the rooms and the tormented cries of the slavegirls that had fuelled their lust.

To further sober her, Holroyd had opened up what looked like a medicine cupboard and revealed surgical implements like dilators, speculums and pinwheels, all cold, gleaming steel seemingly designed to contrast with the soft, vulnerable flesh of a restrained and trembling slavegirl.

They were shown the punishment block finally. There were the inevitable whipping posts, stocks and frames but it was the cells that really made the girls whimper and determine never to find themselves put in there.

They were located beneath the punishment block in what must have been an old cellar as the walls were of damp stone. Each poky cell had a heavy wooden yoke hanging from the ceiling by a chain. Another chain hung down from it and attached to that was another heavy wooden yoke. Holroyd opened one of the barred doors and demonstrated. He hauled down on the chain that supported the upper yoke and lifted it so that the contraption revealed that a girl could be hung from the top beam by the holes in it for her wrists and her ankles would be shackled to the lower one. Then, spread-eagled, she would be lifted up, the whole rig would swing back towards the back of the cell and she would be lowered. At the back of each cell was a stone lined pit.

“We lower her down and leave her for a bit,” Holroyd explained. “We feed her when we remember to and she can be hauled up just enough to be used now and then. But I’m afraid that sometimes we men get caught short...” he stopped and an evil smile spread over his craggy face. “But I think we’ve got a guest for you to look at, as it happens, and I can illustrate more clearly the delights of a stay in the pits!”

They were led along the passage in front of the grim cells until another man opened up a cell and they all trooped in. The new girls were pushed to the front and made to look into the pit. There was a blonde down there – or she had been blonde – now her hair was soaked and plastered in a wet mass to her head. She looked up as they stood over her, her eyes wide in supplication and attempted to plead but was prevented by the heavy tongue ring that clattered against her teeth as she tried to speak.

“Remind me what she’s in for,” Holroyd told the man who had opened up the cell for them.

“Lack of effort at the last games. She went down too early in the wrestling. Lost her heat in the pony racing and lost her log pull as well,” the man said reading off a sheet attached to a clipboard that hung outside the cell door. “Two weeks in solitary after a hundred lashes on the parade ground.”

Anna stared down at the wretch, aghast. The yoke lay across her shoulders with a semi circular cut out for the back of her head and her hands were clamped by the two parts of the yoke being bolted together at each end, trapping her wrists in the cut outs in each part.

“You fed her today?” Holroyd asked.

The man gave a harsh laugh. “I gave her a length for breakfast an’ I’ll give her another tonight, then I’ll feed her a bit to keep her going.”

Holroyd pointed out to the horrified girls that the frame could be hauled up and swung near the front of the pit so that man standing at its edge could use the girl’s mouth. “And you can bet they give a damn good blow job in here!” he said. “Anything to get out! Now if you’ll excuse me ladies…” he fumbled his trousers open and with complete calmness pulled out a semi tumescent cock and urinated into the pit. Anna tried to look away but suddenly her neck was grabbed from behind.

“Oh no you don’t, my beauty!” came a harsh whisper from one of the guards. “You get a good long look! This is where you’ll be if you even think of slacking. Understand?”

Anna nodded vigorously. She understood perfectly. Holroyd shook his cock dry and put it away.

“And when you’re released,” he told his trembling audience, “you clean your pit out ready for the next bitch.”

Anna swore she would never, ever give them any excuse to put her in the pits.

Once back outside and free of the stench of the pits, they were shown the stable block.

“Now, on the other hand, this is what you can aspire to if you try hard and are a good girl. A really good girl! These are my best girls!” he told them and Anna was amazed at the obvious pride and emotion in his voice.

Of course Anna knew that each stable had its star performers and these were the ones who often went into the arenas for single combat events and who competed in the pony racing and chariot racing at the highest levels and who were the mainstays of the pursuit running events. They took the pivotal places in the chariot teams and were the ones who changed hands for staggering amounts on the rare occasions they did come onto the market. This was what Robyn had told her to aim for.

They were kept in stalls and were attended to by a small army of female grooms, most of whom she knew were actually fully paid employees and even some volunteers – some of them daughters of rich families who had been through the mucking out ponies stage and who had now graduated onto the joys of slave tending in the sexual hot-house of the arena stables.

As Holroyd’s party entered, the slaves were being put to bed for the night and Anna watched how carefully each one was bedded down on her straw with a warm blanket over her. Of course she was chained but only by one ankle. There was a night soil bucket in one corner and beside each stall was a wardrobe which he showed them was full of each slave’s individual harness, the whips she fought with, the riding whip she raced under, her rosettes and photos of her with her masters in winners’ enclosures at various games around the world. Beside each stall was an individual diet sheet and on a brass plate on each stall door was her stable name. In contrast to everything else they had seen, the atmosphere in the stables was warm, with the grooms calling out and chatting to each other happily as they went about their business, cooing to their charges and stroking and fussing over them as they would over any other any other type of animal. And the slaves did look to be in magnificent condition with long, gleaming hair, superbly honed bodies and they were clearly highly prized, despite the recently applied welts that each bore.

At last they were taken to the holding cells which were in a lean-to off one of the barracks. They were Spartan and each cell had a solid door and stone walls, but at least they were clean and didn’t reek like the pits.

“In you go,” Holroyd said. “And tomorrow, we’ll ring you. Thank your lucky stars the owners of this stable don’t brand, they just stencil numbers on. They reckon it makes you more valuable when you’re sold on ‘cos the new owners haven’t got an old brand to get rid of. Me, I don’t reckon it makes much difference and I’d brand you soon as look at you!” he finished with an evil grin as they were pushed into their cells for the night and the doors were slammed. But not Anna’s.

She was just looking around in the wake of her leash having been taken off and her wrists released, when Holroyd came in. His bulk almost shut out the light from the outside and Anna backed away suddenly alarmed. He barged forwards until her back was up against the rough stone of the wall and then he reached out and took her face between his huge thumb and forefinger, squeezing her cheeks and forcing her attention onto his face.

“The bosses think you might be worth what you cost. But me, I don’t like stuck up poncey Southerners at any time, let alone in my team, Lady Muck!” he spat out. “So just you make sure you try your guts out for my stable or I’ll hang you in a pit till you rot – and I don’t care how much you bloody cost!” He thrust her head back so it banged on the wall and stalked out. Anna stood where she was for a while, panting and with tears of fear blinding her before she groped her way to the narrow cot and sobbed herself to sleep, terrified of where she now found herself.

By the middle of the following morning she wore the thick tongue ring that nearly all arena slaves wore. It had been a largely painless procedure with a local anaesthetic used. But even so, having her mouth wrenched open and having to watch the punch gun brought slowly to rest around her outstretched tongue, held out by tongs and held steady by the threat of a month in the pits, was a memory that would stay with her for some time. They were put back into the holding cells for two more days until Holroyd was certain that everything was healing up alright. Then they were taken to the block where the playrooms were.

The four girls were lined up against one wall, nervously eyeing the elaborate equipment designed for the express purpose of testing a girl’s body to its limits. Holroyd came to stand in front of them, legs straddled and arms folded in what they would come to recognise as his favourite pose.