[ebook] Arena Series by Sean O'Kane (11 books)

Arena Series by Sean O'Kane

Description
Into the Area
Tara is a thrill seeker; tall blonde and good looking she despairs of finding the strong man of her dreams. But one day she comes up against Conor Brien and her world is turned upside down. Abducted and trained under a harsh regime she is destined to become a modern-day gladiator in the new arenas. But will her training be enough to break her will and make her submit to her Masters?

The Gladiator
The second in the brilliant sequence of stand alone Arena novels. Tara is now a fully trained gladiator in the modern arenas and is becoming a star in the chariot racing and pursuit running. But when she finds out that she is not owned by the man she thought she was, she decides to take drastic action. She finds herself in terrible trouble as a result but won't give up. Only her trainer can save her finally but even then she is not finished with her previous owner. Non-stop action in and around the modern arenas!

The Prize
Ayesha is merely the prize in a rich man's bet, but she is as treacherous as she is beautiful. When she is undergoing training for the arenas, she reveals the depths of her previous crimes and soon more people are dragged into the dark world of the modern arenas. The third of the Arena novels has always been one of the most sought after.

Slave's Honour
This is the fourth novel in the acclaimed Arena series. All the books are cleverly crafted to stand alone as terrific reads in their own right and this is no exception. Brian Holden is finding his feet as a trainer in a new stable and at an auction his boss makes an acquisition who will bring them all big trouble in due course. But in the meantime, in the middle east two girls are being trained to go head to head in the arenas as pawns in the great games their owners play with them. These two have a history that goes back to before they were enslaved and the climax is explosive! The non-stop action goes from highly-charged dungeon scenes to pony girls to auctions and never flags for one moment!

Last Slave Standing
Storm clouds are gathering over the well regulated calm of the gladiator stables that form the new arenas. The owners have come up with a new game for the girls to compete in for the entertainment of the crowds; 'Last Slave Standing' and the legendary 'Blondie' is being groomed to star in the first staging. Big money is being wagered and there is manoeuvring and corruption afoot! This is the second of the internationally acclaimed Arena novels to be avialable in E reader format. Each book stands alone although the series builds into a whole world of cleverly constructed high-octane eroticism.

Girl Squad
The story of Amelia and Diane, who end up enslaved in The Girl Squad, the only gladiator stable among the modern arenas to be owned by women. Their trainer, Angel, takes them through a torturous path to their true, painful, but erotic destiny.

Naked Ambition
‘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.& In the modern arenas the excitement goes on! The Girl Squad is in action and really up against it this time. And when the show is over the action certainly isn&t! Angel, their gorgeous trainer might be an impressive figure in the arenas, but outside them it could be a very different story. Once again no girl is safe from the manoeuvrings of the dominant men who surround them. And nothing could prepare Angel for the shocks ahead of her, and for Amelia, a loyal and obedient slave to the Girl Squad, the future holds an even greater surprise. Non-stop action on every page once again! And the ending packs a real punch.

Lost Property
For Kath Knowles a carpetting from her boss turns into something far more erotic than she had expected. But then she needed it to because she is not a typical civil servant, she is an undercover reporter sent to find out about Operation Proteus. And when she does find out about it, it is far too late! Another page-turning tale of pony racing, gladiatorial combats and beautiful women in servitude from Sean O'Kane. The modern arenas go from strength to strength!

Bound for Glory
Anna Chatham's life is ripped apart in just a few days and she finds herself enslaved under new laws enacted by the new British Government. From a model and a celeb, she has fallen to the level of condemned criminal and must serve her time in an arena. But who is behind her ruin? And how will she cope with slavery? Once again the full cast of characters is expertly manipulated and Sean's set pieces are as vibrant as ever and sexy as ever.

Blonde Fury
As the slave called Ace's true identity is made public a girl called Sophie suddenly finds herself being hunted. She is the daughter of illustrious parents but is desperate to escape from her family history. As legalised sex slavery pervades England and the modern arenas attract a whole new audience, Sophie's plight becomes ever more desperate and she has to flee the country, but the farther she runs, the closer she comes to her true destiny.

Blonde Fury II
This is the rip-roaring climax to the epic Arena series of novels. The whole of the modern arena world is looking for the daughter of the great Blondie, but she has vanished into thin air. Thrillingly erotic set-piece follows thrillingly erotic set-piece as the action moves swiftly from Texas to the decadent princedom of Bakhtar where the Prince himself is preparing a grand spectacle to greet his guests, unaware of the true identity of the slave he has just bought. Meanwhile the arena crowds are growing bored with the entertainment on offer. Someone has to do something! Can Blondie's daughter be found in time? If so who will own and train her? And most crucially of all - will she triumph over her own half-sister, Ace?

Enjoy!

Related Books

Excerpt
Into the Arena: Show
In the barracks that night the atmosphere was subdued. Cherry was shunned, she had brought disgrace on all of them and only Tara had rescued the situation. None of them had witnessed the final contest but they had seen the two girls put in with Tara and had listened in fear to the noises from within the pen and had had to suffer the knowing grins of One Squad.

When the door had been opened and Tara had walked out, swaying with fatigue but still upright, there had been muted cheers and groans from the respective squads, which had only been silenced by the raising of the guards' whips.

Tara herself was too far gone to notice very much that night until it came to the time for them to be chained. The guard on duty saved her cell till last and once he had chained them he pulled his shorts down and climbed on top of her. She cried out in pain as his weight crushed her but opened her legs eagerly. She had hoped it might be Carlo, but she had to admit that any man was welcome after a day of such constant arousal, pain and excitement. Her length of chain allowed her to put her arms round the man's neck and enjoy the feel of his hard muscularity under her hands as he ducked his head and sucked at her sore nipples, drawing groans of mingled pain and delight from her. Down between her wide-open legs she felt his hardness begin to push at her and she arched her back to give him better access to her body. And she let her breath out in a long sigh of contentment as she felt him slide up into the lubricated sheath of her hungry vagina. Once he was fully in he wasted no time and began to ram and withdraw in a fierce rhythm which took no account of her pleasure. She clutched his body to hers and rocked her hips frantically to rub herself against his hard rutting and felt the wave of sensual overload engulf her just as he stiffened and pumped his spend into her. She was still twitching in the aftermath when he levered himself up off her, pulled his shorts up and left. As soon as he had gone Cherry crept over and wordlessly buried her head between Tara's still open legs. She reached down and roughly pressed the tousled hair hard against herself, bucking up with the last of her strength to feel every lick of the tongue which was questing inside her for the residue of male liquid. She fell into a deep sleep the moment her second orgasm had overcome her. But from time to time during the night she half woke at the sounds of men unlocking one or other of the cells and taking their pleasure with the girls inside.

 

The days which followed seemed to Tara to blend into one long sequence of blazing sun and shining bodies, struggling and sweating, fighting and suffering, then finding rending pleasure in the constant visits of the guards. Her body grew harder and stronger by the day, but she noticed that very careful attention was paid to their condition. The daily weighings and measurings resumed and their diets were individually tailored. Those who showed signs of becoming too lean and muscular were given starchy foods to maintain the female reservoirs of fat at breast and buttock. No one wanted to watch, or screw, a female gladiator with a figure like an ironing board, she realised.

On one morning they trooped out of their barracks and found a short blonde German woman waiting for them. She had set up a makeshift table on which they lay, one by one while she shaved them with an old fashioned cut throat razor and they were ordered to keep themselves smooth and hairless from then on. Tara had never shaved herself before and found it an odd sensation to be so totally naked. But the guards seemed to like the effect and whenever the opportunity presented itself, they would finger the newly denuded sexes, never for long enough to bring a girl to climax but just enough to keep her hot.

Wrestling matches resumed and they were taught new holds and kicking manoeuvres. Hoses were played into the pens, turning them into quagmires of reddish mud in which the girls struggled with each other, their hands sliding off slick flesh. Here the result was not important, they soon realised, it was the spectacle of naked women, squirming and intertwining, coated humiliatingly in the mire which mattered. The audience of guards who watched these practices obviously appreciated the shows, because very often, once the girls were hosed down afterwards, they would be pushed onto the ground and taken, or made to kneel and bring relief with their mouths to the thick poles of their sexes.

They began to learn how to box. Carlo taught them to lose the female inclination to swing their fists widely and wildly. Instead he showed them how to punch straight and hard. Gradually he introduced hints that although they fought naked for the moment, it would not always be the case and these hints were bound up with others about 'a show'. The squad speculated endlessly in the barracks about that. As yet they couldn't fathom the full reason for their presence here. It had obviously cost more than just a fortune to set this whole operation up, so what was the pay-off going to be? But they all agreed that they liked the sound of a show. They all remembered the crew on the ship and how it had felt to fight for their pleasure and how intense the sex had been afterwards. They craved a bigger audience than the guards and Tara realised that they were becoming quite exhibitionist. They were proud of their bodies in a way they had never been before and flirted with the lascivious looks they got from the men. Tara did too, to her shame, but she was so aroused for so much of the time that she found she needed sex with men more than she had ever done before. Apart from the knocks they took in the various events they practised, serious whipping and punishment was quite rare after that first day. And to her amazement and horror she found herself agreeing with those who dared to utter some expressions of regret about that in the barracks. What Carlo had always referred to as 'playtime' also seemed now to be a thing of the past. And the girls had mixed feelings about that as well. The intensity of the experiences was missed by some, but others shuddered at the memory of the pegs, weights, clamps and needles.

Just as on board the ship, Tara sank into the miasma of sex and combat, she stopped reproaching herself for enjoying her new life and threw herself into being the best gladiator she could be and always she looked for the rare touches of approval from Carlo and the Boss. Quite frequently she would notice him standing at the edge of the training ground or watching her in the pens and she could feel his odd, grey eyes fixed on her.

One afternoon, after their siesta, Tara, Jet and Channel were ordered to remain in their cells and were chained up. They passed a long afternoon by dozing and exchanging worried opinions about what they might be in for. Eventually a guard came for them and after clipping their wrists together behind their backs, for the first time since they had arrived, he led them out. They didn't make for the training ground however, instead he turned them to their left and led them around their barracks block in the opposite direction. They were joined by another guard leading three members of One Squad coming from their barracks which stood at right angles to Tara's and her squad's. For a moment the enmity between the girls was submerged in mutual concern and the girls exchanged frightened looks before they were marched off. They crossed the river by the bridge the truck had driven over when they had arrived and then turned off the road, passed through an arch in a long wall and found themselves on a large lawn surrounded by buildings on three sides and the river on the fourth. The grass swept gently uphill to a palatial two storey house whose wings ran along the other two sides of the lawn. It was fronted by a long colonnade which gave it a Roman appearance, and in the centre of the lawn a large ornamental fountain played, with water gushing from a variety of carved stone figures. As the guards led them towards the house and they passed close by the fountain Tara could see that the nude figures in the fountain were carved in overtly sexual positions. The male figures gushing water from erect penises, the females from between lasciviously open legs. More ominously, the male figures were depicted with whips in their hands and were standing over the prostrate females menacingly.

Once they had entered the shade of the colonnade and could feel the cool marble beneath their bare feet, they were halted and the guards went to get some items from the low benches which stood at the rear of the colonnade. As they returned, Tara could see that they held bundles of chains and oddly shaped restraints, which they placed at the girls' feet before freeing their hands.

"e;Right, get yours off and get these ones on,"e; one of the guards told them and without a second thought they did as they were told, even though there were only two guards and six girls. When Tara had unbuckled her usual wrist restraints she held up the new ones and saw they were of a very different design. They were wider and of softer leather, and on the part which covered the inside of her wrists they had a long tongue which stretched up to the palm of her hand with a D ring sewn into it there. She felt the familiar stirring in her stomach as she realised that these were designed for prolonged wrist suspension. There were ankle restraints too and they had to sit on the cold stone to fasten them on, but that still left a little bundle of chains and weights in front of each girl.

"e;We'll worry about those,"e; the guards said, "e;once we've got you up."e;

They were strung up in a line, each girl in a gap between two of the marble columns, their wrist restraints slung from hooks on the ends of chains which hung from the roof. Then their ankle restraints were clipped together and for some reason Tara couldn't understand at that point, the chains with the weights on were hung from the loops on them. The weight certainly added to the strain on their arms but the wide restraints ensured that they lost no circulation in their hands. However, as soon as the men had left them she began to twist her wrists and grope with her fingers to reach the chains and grip them. With the long tongues on the restraints it wasn't easy and her wriggling made her body swing a little. But when she had achieved her aim and managed to look to either side of her around her straining shoulders she saw the others had done the same and the whole line was swinging gently to and fro. It was a breathtaking display of nude female slaves, and a striking demonstration of the estate's power over its property.

But as yet there was no one to see it. They had not been gagged but none of them felt brave enough to speak and so as the evening wore on they hung in a row while the agony in their shoulders grew worse and worse. Tara tried to distract herself by examining the whole of the complex she could now see before her. On the other side of the river stood the plain buildings with the small windows that she now knew were the barracks. There were four of them so two new squads would presumably be added in due course. That would make forty eight girls. Once again she was awed by the size of the organisation. Beyond the barracks she could see the training ground and the pens. And beyond the pens rose the high wall of the building she had never been able to identify. From the training ground itself, it had just been a high, blank wall looming over it on that side, but from Tara's present, agonised position she could see that it had a narrow roof which seemed to slope downwards on its far side, and then it suddenly came to her where she had seen a similar building. It was circular and the sloping roofs would shade seats. It was a stadium; a small one, but a stadium nonetheless. That must be where this 'show' Carlo kept referring to was going to take place. Beyond the stadium there seemed to be further buildings which she could only get a glimpse of, and beyond them were dry fields. And marked out in the dusty grass of the biggest seemed to be some kind of track, like an athletics track.

Her musings came to an end as a strained moan broke from a girl on her left. And as their endurance began to ebb away the colonnade was soon echoing to cries and moans of distress from all the girls. But these ceased abruptly as they heard a door open and voices and footsteps approach. Chief among the voices was that of the Boss himself. He seemed to have a group of people with him, of both sexes. They were relaxed and laughing as they approached until one of the women in the party must have caught sight of the swaying line of slaves and let out a little shriek.

Tara heard her owner laugh. "e;Ah! You've noticed my little display. These are the best of the squad slaves,"e; he said. "e;I had them put up here to demonstrate the sort of endurance you may expect from them. I can assure you they will provide very good value for money. In all respects."e;

There was male laughter and Tara felt a man's hand stroke her flank. Then her heart leapt as the man himself came round to stand before her. It was the Boss. Quickly she lowered her eyes and grimaced against the agony in her arms; determined not to make a sound. "e;Please feel free to handle the merchandise, ladies and gentlemen. You will find superb muscle tone, and when you consider that it has been hanging here all the while you have been arriving, freshening up and taking a drink, I'm sure you will agree that you can confidently expect top class entertainment at the show itself."e;

Tara immediately felt a hand stroke her buttocks and move to her thigh, squeezing and assessing the firmness. Meanwhile a woman, very wealthy looking and in her fifties, Tara guessed came to stand beside the Boss.

"e;This is a strong looking one,"e; she observed. "e;And you say we'll be able to reserve them for bed use as well."e;

"e;At an extremely reasonable rate,"e; The Owner agreed. The woman licked her lips and reached out a hand. Instinctively Tara tried to raise her knees and twist away as the hand approached her sex. Then she found out why her ankles had been weighted. After hanging for so long it was unbearable to increase the strain on her arms and all she achieved was a soft rattle and clink as the weights swung, then she had to remain still while the woman let a single finger trace down across her stomach and then continue down along the cleft between her labia. Her legs were open just enough to allow it limited access to the vagina itself and Tara tried not to screw her face up in disgust as she felt it enter her. To sleep with your cellmate and to have sex with your fellow gladiators was one thing, but to be pawed by this pampered old jade was quite another, especially as her owner was calmly proposing to sell her body to her. And to add to her distress, Tara felt the woman's finger slide quite freely between her lips, despite the relatively small gap between her legs.

"e;Oh!"e; the woman exclaimed, "e;she's quite wet!"e;

"e;Of course, she's a slave. She's in pain and loving every second of it."e;

The woman withdrew her finger and she reached up to fondle Tara's breasts with her whole hand. And despite gritting her teeth she felt her treacherous nipples harden under the touch.

"e;And I'll bet she'll need to take a bit of whipping before she gets into bed with an old hag like me,"e; the woman said and laughed throatily. "e;Well Charles did say he was going to give me a very special anniversary present."e; Then she moved away with the Boss to examine Channel who was next in the line.

Now another man stood before her, he was only in his thirties and was accompanied by a pretty, dark haired woman of the same age. She was staring up at Tara with wide-eyed wonder.

"e;Touch her,"e; the man told her. "e;She's not going to bite. Not from where she is now anyway."e;

The woman gave an irritating giggle and Tara flinched as she felt her stretched taut breasts fondled again.

"e;You can see by the nipples how much she likes the pain she's in,"e; the man observed. Tara had to bite her tongue at this second reminder of how she was betraying herself. She wouldn't mind betting this stupid man was one of those who would never have dared approach her before she was enslaved. The woman gave her annoying laugh again and wriggled a finger into Tara's vagina. The trouble was that these contemptible idiots who would probably never be dominant enough to own their own slaves were humiliating her so badly that she knew her sex was gushing its appreciation of her own pain and degradation. She loved and hated her owner with all the tangled emotional intensity of a true slave.

"e;God, I haven't had a pussy since I was in boarding school,"e; the woman said. "e;And it's so juicy! Just think, you'll be able to watch her lick me out after you've whipped her."e;

"e;That's the idea. After the shows she'll be battered, bruised, hot and horny, and all ours to play with,"e; the man told her.

"e;I want to see the black one. She looks gorgeous!"e; And they moved along the line, leaving Tara helplessly in the grip of confused pique that she should be deprived of any more humiliation. Her head hung forward in despair as she realised just how deeply she was a slave.

For what seemed an eternity the hanging girls were pawed and groped, until at last the whole group gathered on the lawn and the Boss chatted happily with them while their pre-dinner drinks were topped up by the household girls.

At long, long last they moved off down the colonnade and Tara heard male footsteps behind her. An arm encircled her waist and lifted slightly, just enough to free her arms and she cried aloud as she tried to lower them. But then Carlo was laying her carefully down on the marble and massaging her shoulders with every sign of genuine concern. A tall African man in a flowing white robe was attending to the others and between them they soon had all the girls sitting up and rubbing at their own aching limbs. Carlo was plainly furious though.

"e;I told him not to leave them so long! What kind of show are my girls going to put on with dislocated shoulders eh?"e;

"e;Relax, Carlo,"e; the tall black man told him. "e;They're okay. The Boss knows what he's doing."e;

Carlo relapsed into mutters as he helped each girl to her feet and set about checking in detail every sorely tested muscle and joint, just to be sure. Tara was perfectly aware that his concern was purely professional and had nothing to do with her personally, but it was good to feel his strong, expert hands on her body again.

Once he and the man he referred to as Ali had clipped their hands together behind their backs again and this time added chains linking their collars, he was a bit more cheerful.

"e;They're a good looking bunch. Fine material! Now I want them to see something."e;

"e;Boss said to take'em downstairs."e;

"e;We will, in a minute,"e; Carlo assured him, and with a hard smack on the lead girl's bottom he led the coffle down the colonnade.

At first it seemed as if they might be going back to their barracks, but Carlo led them past them and the training ground, on past the tall stadium itself and out towards the fields. The low buildings which Tara had caught a glimpse of earlier seemed to be stables, but they were led past these as well and eventually came to a gate. Beyond it the Boss and his guests were standing, still attended by the girls with their neat little tunics and each holding a tray of cool drinks. Carlo led Tara's coffle to a long rail which looked like a hitching rail for horses and he had all six girls stand with their backs to it. Then he and Ali passed along behind them, unclipping their wrists and re-joining them so that each wrist was on a different side of the horizontal rail, tethering them.

The main group seemed to be looking out over the field for something. It sloped up slightly to a crest and as yet nothing was in sight.

"e;Keep your eyes peeled my bitches,"e; Carlo told them, walking up and down behind them. "e;You will see my best animals now! My best work!"e;

And with that he left them to join the main group with Ali in his long robe following.

For a moment nothing happened. But then, faintly at first, but growing louder, there were the unmistakable cracks of whips at work and then things which looked like plumes bobbed into view, and over them Tara could see the blur of whips. But suddenly as the land flattened out the whole spectacle unfolded and Tara couldn't restrain a gasp of total amazement.

Three pony traps came careering over the hill towards the onlookers, running in the lanes Tara had seen earlier. But the ponies pulling them were human ones. And female as well. Tara stared, her throat suddenly dry, never had she imagined such a thing could be done. The girls were running furiously in elaborate harnesses which seeemed to criss cross their bodies, their hands gripped the shafts of the lightweight carts which held a single driver who was wielding the whip. It was clearly a race and each driver was equally determined to win, regardless of the cost to the 'pony'. The whips slashed at shoulders, breasts, thighs and backs. The lashed ponies sometimes threw their heads back and made the plumes on their bridles dance. As the traps came closer, Tara could hear the drivers yelling encouragements as they wove complicated patterns in the air with their whips and scored networks of thin red stripes on their ponies' gleaming flesh. Whether it was oil or sweat Tara didn't know but the superb female figures before her shone with it. The slight rumble of the wheels on the dry ground became louder and louder and eventually even the snorting and gasping of the ponies between the whip cracks could be heard. In a storm of noise and dust the traps reached their audience and then in an obviously rehearsed move the three drivers, now neck and neck, wrenched on their reins. The ponies' heads came sharply round to their right and they wheeled in perfect formation in a tight circle before the applauding onlookers. Tara could see how the girls' mouths were dragged sharply over and realised that they must even have bits in there, just like real ponies. But as they wheeled, the final touch of realism almost brought a cry from her. From between the tightly muscled and scarlet striped buttocks of each girl a real tail wagged and swung.

The drivers stayed in their seats as the ponies stamped and cavilled against the tight reins, the dust settled around the traps and the audience approached, still clapping delightedly. The Boss had stage managed their entrance superbly and Tara was left replaying the moment the ponies had burst over the crest of the hill, their feet pounding, their thighs pumping and the cruel whips playing maddening tattoos on their skin as they raced for the line. She realised that her own heart was doing its fair share of pounding, the girls were the most devastatingly erotic sight she had ever encountered and she stared at them now, straining for a view among the crowd which surrounded them. In the cool of the evening there was even the faint suspicion of sweat steaming from their oiled bodies. They occasionally tossed their heads as hands stroked and groped them. Tara tried to drink in every detail of the harnesses but found that her eyes kept going back to the breast harness. All three girls had the same arrangement, two-inch wide leather straps encircled each breast and buckled tight against the inner curve. From near the top of the strap another one led up to the deep collar which kept their heads held high and proud. The strapping made the breasts stand out high and firm in neat domes of nipple-crowned flesh. And, Tara realised with a jolt deep in her stomach, they kept them steady for the drivers' whips, even as they ran.

She couldn't deny the pangs of envy which she felt as she watched the crowd admire them and heard the enthusiastic commentary the Boss was giving, detailing feeding and exercise regimes and explaining the finer points of the harnesses, which frequently brought squeals of horrified delight from the females in the group. But Carlo returned to stand behind them once more.

"e;These are the very best!"e; he crowed. "e;They don't just race in pony carts either! No, these beauties do pursuit running, as well as log pulling and single combat. They even go up against the men! Of course they lose - but they really know how to lose. Out in the arena, it is a fine sight!"e; he sighed happily.

Tara continued to gaze at the girls. They were tall, just like she was and powerfully built for girls, but she could imagine how carefully they had been fed to keep the breasts and buttocks full and feminine. Carlo's words washed over her but she pricked up her ears at the word 'arena'.

In her mind's eye she envisaged an expanse of sand under a bright sun and two naked females struggling and fighting until one was utterly defeated. Or a single female, bloodied but unbowed as she fought and inevitably lost to the power of a well-muscled man who would exact the full price of defeat when she at last went down. And all the time a crowd cheered and yelled as they wallowed in the vicarious excitement of the spectacle being enacted for their pleasure; fixing all their attention on the figures before them.

It was a thrilling image of decadence and savage eroticism.

And at last she had an image for what had always been at the back of her mind in her darkest fantasies. It was a fantasy so extreme that she had never allowed herself to have it - had probably dismissed it as so impossible it was not even to be dreamed of. But here and now it was a reality. The Boss - her owner - was making it a reality. And she knew now what part she wanted to play in it.

She hardly noticed Carlo unclip their wrists and begin to lead them away, but she kept her head turned towards the field as she followed reluctantly, and noticed the way the Boss's hands constantly strayed to pat a flank, or stroke a breast or buttock as he talked tirelessly about his favourites.

Carlo also took one last look and halted their procession.

"e;Those are the best of the best. They win big money! The Boss likes them so much he gives them their daily beating personally, whenever he is here."e;

Then he seemed to turn himself back to the job in hand and pulled them along. But Tara's mind was replaying his last words and her heart was thumping.

Blonde Fury: Show
Chapter Six.

Huston was hot despite the air conditioning. Sophie could feel sweat trickling down her ribs inside the sweater she had pulled on in Paris but slowly the passport control desk was coming closer as the queue shuffled forwards patiently.

When she finally got to it the man seated at the desk looked at her passport once she had put her forefinger on the light pad, flicked through its pages, held it under some kind of lamp then gave it to his companion and asked her to wait over by an office door.

“Why?” Sophie quavered, watching the man disappear with her precious passport. “Is…is there something wrong?”

“Ma&am, just wait there for a moment please,” the first man said and beckoned the next person in the queue. Sophie, her stomach churning with terror had to go and wait. Her eyes felt gritty as they always did after a long flight and she longed to get some clean clothes next to her skin. But if she could just get over this hurdle she could contact her lawyer in Switzerland and get herself a job and everything would be hunky dory. Then she could contact Martha.

The office door opened and a man looked out. Her heart sank as she took in the police uniform and the sheriff&s star on his broad chest.

“Mizz Stafford?” he drawled, putting an emphasis on the ‘Stafford& that made Sophie aware that she was in deep trouble. With her knees trembling she followed him into the office and took the seat he offered in front of the desk. He sat behind it and looked at her passport lying there, the only thing on the desk.

He let the silence extend until Sophie&s nerves were screaming and then he sat back, clasping his hands across his belly.

“Now Mizz Stafford, or whatever your name really is, there&s some things you need to know.” He sat forwards, making her jump and took up the booklet. “Nine times outta ten you&d have got clean through with this. But we got a little arrangement with a local businessman and when we see a pretty girl coming through we look extra hard. The biometrics match okay but I&m afraid there&s some differences in the watermarking that mean this is a forgery. A good one, but a forgery. It probably would have fooled anyone not trying to look real hard, but because of our arrangement, we did look real hard.”

Sophie stared down at the desktop, too horrified to feel anything except numbness. Her life seemed suddenly to have turned into a series of nightmares from having been one long erotic dream.

“Now trying to enter the country on a forged passport is pretty serious stuff – and our jails are a bit tougher than yours I reckon. But like I say we got an arrangement with a guy who might be able to offer you an alternative. Come with me.”

He stood up and came round the desk, then made her put her hands in front of her and cuffed them with a plastic tie. Then he led her out of the back door of the office, down some steps and out into the heat of the day, before he bundled her into the back of a patrol car. Dully, Sophie watched the gleaming towers and wide streets flash by as the sheriff carved his way arrogantly through the traffic and out into the country. They sped for miles along wide roads and then along dusty side roads, through small towns and past endless, huge pastures with herds of cattle quietly grazing. Neat white picket fences sometimes lined the roads and sometimes tall trees. Then finally they came to a gate in a high fence and written in wrought iron letters on the arch above the gates was the legend; ‘The Pretty Pony Ranch&. On either side of the lettering was an image of a rearing pony.

The sheriff chuckled as they drove in. “Mister Floyd, he&s got a real sense of humour on him!” he said as the car swept along a tree shaded drive for what seemed like miles before it came to an enormous, rambling and low ranch house.

The sheriff got out and helped Sophie out as well, then holding her tightly by her right arm he led her into the house. The vast hall was decorated most strikingly with the heads of various animals; stags, bison, boar, lion… whoever had been doing the shooting had been well travelled. But Sophie didn&t have much time for looking around as she was hustled into a huge office and behind an ornate desk sat a tall man with white hair and a skin tanned so deeply it looked like leather. The sheriff halted her halfway across the floor and stood behind her, holding her arms tightly by her sides.

“Well, well,” the man said, standing up and revealing himself to be whiplash thin. “That is the prettiest thing to have fallen into our net in a long, long time, Henry!”

Behind her she heard the sheriff laugh.

“Ain&t that the truth! And she&s a limey as well! They&ll be queuing up to drive her.”

The white haired man had come close and was examining Sophie with complete assurance, his eyes roaming over her body with blatant appreciation. She realised that whatever the deal was that was going to be put before her, it was going to involve access to her body.

“I&m Wilbur Beckington-Floyd, young lady,” the man said when he had finished examining her. “Come and sit down and I&ll tell you a bit more about what I propose.”

Once she was seated, the sheriff hovered close behind her but Floyd relaxed behind the desk.

“Welcome to the Pretty Pony, Miss Stafford, or whatever your real name is, either way I don&t care. Let me come straight to the point; are you acquainted with Pony Racing like they do it in the arenas?”

“I&ve seen it,” Sophie said carefully. “And I think it&s vile and degrading.”

Floyd chuckled softly. “I dare say you do. But consider your position and hear my deal. I pay Henry there and his men good money to keep an eye out for young ladies coming into the country with something to hide, and you&d be amazed how many of you there are! Sometimes they&re smuggling, sometimes they&re on the run from someone or something. Now, at the Pretty Pony I race and run ponygirls, just like the arenas do and I have a lot of paying customers, believe me.”

“Oh I can imagine!” Sophie put in suddenly having an inkling of where this was going.

“When Henry and his men find someone like you, they bring them here to me and I offer them a two year deal,” Floyd went on unperturbed. “For two years they serve me as ponies and accept my discipline and serve my customers. At the end of that time they can go free if they want. The record will show they entered the country with no problem and they will have a share of the money they earn. I save the state the expense of locking them up, my customers are happy and everyone wins!”

“The girls?”

“Yep, them too. After two years folk might have stopped looking for them, if they want to be set free that is. Quite a few don&t.”

Sophie gaped at him. The answer to her sarcastic question had changed everything. Two years of complete anonymity could be a godsend, maybe everyone would give up and go away, then she could emerge from this weird place – if he could be trusted – and resume a real life. Maybe she could find Martha and explain and they could pick up where they left off. Of course the idea of being harnessed and treated as a beast of burden was hateful and wicked. But maybe just now, beggars couldn&t be choosers – and they had her bang to rights about the passport…

As if seeing her attitude change, Floyd broke in, “There is one thing you need to be aware of before you sign my contract though.”

“And that is?” she asked.

“You know the arenas use these chips to keep the girls happy and obedient?”

Sophie did and it had always seemed to her the worst thing that the arenas did.

“Well I don&t have no truck with that. My ponies obey me because they know the rules and they find out the hard way what happens if they break them. Same as any animal does. I train my ponies real good. And I don&t need no gizmo to make them docile.”

Sophie realised that she was being told that she would be beaten if she didn&t obey this madman&s rules. But at least she wouldn&t be in prison. And it was only for two years. Then the hunt for Sophie Suarez would have died down – and he didn&t seem to care who she really was…

“I&ll sign,” she said simply.

Floyd rang a bell and several men entered as the sheriff unfastened her wrists. They were all big men and they all smiled at her in open anticipation. It looked as though there was a lot of sex on the menu and it was just as well Martha had given her a healthy appetite for it.

Floyd passed across a simple document that summarised all he had said and confirmed that in two years she could go free if she chose. She signed it and returned it then looked around at the men, all of whom were sporting interesting bulges in their trousers.

“Well,” she said, standing up and becoming aware of her clipped English vowels falling into the silence in the office. “I hope you gentlemen have got long, hot… spurs. This pony needs to be ridden!”

The feeling of not being Sophie Suarez, of not being anyone at all for the next two years was intoxicating and Sophie was beginning to think she might enjoy it.

Floyd smiled. “That&s a pretty speech, but it&ll be the last you make for a long time. Take her away and get her started, boys.”

Getting her started turned out to consist of fucking her until her brain rattled. She had never experienced anything like it. They took her downstairs to a small cell with white painted walls and a bed and not much more. She was told to strip and when she did, so did the men who crowded into the small room. She backed up until the backs of her legs connected with the frame of the small bed and she had no choice but to stop and examine the crowd who wanted her. They were a well-muscled and well hung group, she had to admit and the cocks were visibly beginning to throb towards erection. It was a sight that Sophie had never imagined seeing – let alone knowing that every single one of them was heading her way. But she stood up squarely, parted her legs and put her hands on her hips.

“Now she&s gonna get some good American cock up her hoity toity little English pussy,” one of the men said.

“I heard they like it up their asses in England,” another said.

“Doesn&t matter a damn where she likes it. She&s gonna get it everywhere a girl can take it,” the man at the front of the group said, advancing on her. Sophie let her eyes meet his and she thought of Martha; ‘we&ll fuck anything human!& and she laughed as she reached out and drew him to her.

What really hurt was her arse. It had never been used before except by Martha&s finger on occasions, but the men at the ranch used it time and again. They used plenty of lube but the next day it stung so much she could hardly walk, but fortunately she didn&t need to. They gave her two days to recover and she needed every minute of them. She doubted she could have taken it if it hadn&t been for the weeks with Martha breaking down her inhibitions. She had only ever sucked Tom&s cock but in that epic gangbang that signified her arrival at the Pretty Pony, she lost count of the times she had swallowed a man&s sperm. To be ordered to her knees for fellation had eventually come as a blessed relief from the endless stream of men who had wanted to bugger her and slap her bottom as they did so; hard. There had been a period when it had been pleasurable, she thought it was about half way through, when her rectum had loosened up but before it had got sore. The man who had taken her first of all had seemed to be in charge and it had been he who had occasionally examined her in between bouts of buggery and decided she could take more. Every now and then there would be a welcome pause and she would feel his hard hands ease her buttocks apart as he peered at her most private place. Then sentence would be pronounced and she would have to feel her delicate tissues being prised apart all over again. But she would be ever grateful to him for being the one who had at last decreed that there would be no more buggery; mouth and vagina only from then on. Tears of gratitude had trickled down her cheeks, running around the crusted sperm, as she had sucked long and hard at cock after cock while others entered her cunt from behind.

Fairly early on she had ceased to feel human. She had lost her personality as she sank beneath the continued orgasms that overwhelmed her, she became just what they wanted her to be; a body. They had squashed her between them, made her into a living sandwich with one man in her vagina and another in her backside, and the two cocks had fought it out inside her until she felt she was losing her mind. She had knelt astride one cock and taken another in her mouth. And finally they had stopped coming inside her and came all over her instead. Cocks would be withdrawn from her mouth just as they spurted and would be wiped over her eyes and in her hair or pointed down at her breasts. Vaguely she was conscious of wiping her hands over her body, smearing herself with their essence, revelling in her debasement and hungry for the next orgasm.

Eventually she had lain on her front with her head hanging over the end of the bed, flopping down as her backside was hauled up to make her cunt available. She could hardly register any more orgasms and only groaned as she came. Sometimes a hand would grip her sticky, sodden hair and lift her face to cram a cock into it again and she would open her throat as much as she could, so exhausted that without fully realising it she was deep throating them. Her neck muscles would no longer let her control her movements up and down so she relied on the hand in her hair to control the face fucking.

And then, quite suddenly it seemed, they were gone. She lay on the narrow bed, the sound of her breathing loud in her ears, too used up to move. But slowly she became aware of someone standing over her.

“Welcome to the Pretty Pony,” the voice of Wilbur Floyd said.

Sophie felt a sudden urge to defy expectations. She knew what she must look like with sperm oozing from between her wide spread thighs and from her anus, her bottom smacked red, her hair thick with sperm and her arms flung out loosely to hang over the sides of the bed. She became aware of a thick string of mixed spunk and saliva hanging from her lips to the floor. She knew she looked the very image of totally fucked womankind. But she didn&t feel beaten down, she felt pride. She had taken all that they could throw at her and still she could…she could what?

She tried moving her arms and was surprised they obeyed her but managed to get her hands under her and turn over, wiping her mouth as she did so. Her legs were splayed wide apart, one on the bed and one hanging off it. Slowly she swung the one on the bed off it and then pushed herself up to a sitting position. Waiting until her head stopped spinning she began to get to her feet. She took two or three staggering steps until she found her balance but then she could face Floyd. He was watching her carefully.

“You might talk posh but you&re a tough bitch alright, whatever your name is.”

Then he turned and walked out and she smiled after him; they had ridden her but they hadn&t broken her in, not by a long way.

The man who had been the first to take her and who she was to learn was called Ennis, entered as Floyd left.

“You might want a shower, girl,” he said and indicated that she could leave the cell. “Usually we have to carry ‘em out after the welcoming ceremony. Like the boss said, you&re a tough bitch.”

He walked behind her as she limped along the corridor, steadying herself with one hand against the wall from time to time until they came to a wet room.

He lounged against the door frame as she showered and rinsed herself thoroughly, spreading her legs shamelessly to soap every nook and cranny, but of course what was there to be ashamed about? She had nothing now that every man in the place hadn&t seen, touched, explored and fucked.

“That&s right, get it all good and clean,” Ennis told her.

“Ready for next time?” she asked, tousling her thick hair under the jets to try and clean it.

“No talking. I&ll punish you for that soon as you&re finished here,” he told her quite calmly. Sophie glared at him but subsided, there was no point in provoking him, it was clearly what he wanted and clearly the Pretty Pony wanted her to learn another lesson.

When she had towelled off, dried her hair and brushed it as best she could with the simple brush provided she felt well enough to walk without limping although her backside still stung and burned ferociously. She followed Ennis further along the corridor until they emerged into daylight.

They were in a courtyard and Sophie found out that she was far from being the only naked girl in those parts. On three sides the yard was surrounded by low buildings that had a stable door every few feet and over the closed lower half of the doors the torso of a naked girl was visible with, as far as Sophie could tell, her hands clipped together behind her back. And just over to her right there was a girl in full harness tethered to the wall by her reins. Sophie had seen pictures and footage on the net but the full ‘in your face& reality of it stopped her in her tracks. The girl&s head was encased in a web of leather straps and she had a bit in her mouth and even blinkers at her cheeks. Her hands were clipped together behind her just above her buttocks which were bisected by a thin leather strap that ran between her legs and joined a narrow belt at her waist. Her feet were encased in boots that had wedge heels and enhanced her height and emphasised the shapeliness of her legs. Her breasts had been left quite naked except for the nipples which were covered by black leather cones that had long leather tassels hanging from them.

Sophie took in all the details only slowly, her brain screaming at her that it was obscene and wicked but there was a part of her that thought the girl looked absolutely beautiful.

Ennis went over to the pony and beckoned to Sophie.

“This is Dancer. She&s been with us three years now,” he told her, slapping the ponygirl&s flank. “Decided to stay on when her time was up.” He stroked the girl&s breast and she nuzzled her head against his shoulder. Ennis looked over at Sophie with a grin. “Take a good look, girl. This is your future.”

Sophie couldn&t have spoken even if it had been permitted; so many emotions were at war inside her. Horror vied with sexual excitement as she watched Ennis squeeze her breasts and pet the ponygirl with complete casual confidence. Then envy kicked in as his other hand slid down her belly and stroked the strap that led up from between her labia and she watched his finger press against it just where her clitoris was. The pony gave a soft snort of pleasure and nuzzled him again. Sophie suddenly found she was pressing her own thighs together and blushed furiously.

Two men approached just then and the other side of the ponygirl&s life was suddenly brought back into sharp focus.

“Get her strung up for thirty,” Ennis told them, inclining his head towards Sophie and before she could even think of making any vocal protest she was grabbed by the arms and marched along the yard until they came to a projecting beam of wood about ten feet up the wall. From it hung a chain that terminated in two cuffs hanging from karabiners clipped to its links. The men raised her arms and buckled her wrists into the leather. Then to compensate for her height, they unwound the chain from the hook it was anchored to after it had run through the pulley in the beam and shortened it so that she was pulled onto tip toes.

From between her tightly raised arms, Sophie glanced back over her shoulder, all thoughts of sexual excitement gone as she realised she was going to be punished like all those poor girls in the arenas. Ennis stood behind her with a coiled whip in his hands.

“Thirty&s pretty usual round here. Most girls get that every day or so. And they&re the good ones, the disobedient ones…well you don&t want to go there!”

The first lash convinced her beyond any doubt that he was right. She didn&t want to be disobedient. The line of fire it traced across her middle back and which set her spinning at the end of her rope quelled all thoughts of rebellion or dignity and his calm count filled her mind with the terrible thought that were twenty-nine more like that to come. And as the hateful lash snaked and burned its way across her back and bottom and thighs until she just had to twist around and take some on her stomach and even on her breasts, she cried out loud while silently inside she was yelling at herself to forget any thoughts of principles or morality. Just concentrate on avoiding the lash, she screamed inwardly.

When at last it was over and she hung, taking in shivering gasps of air and feeling the fires go on growing in her flesh for a few moments before they began to subside, Ennis made her look at him.

“You been fucked and whipped. When I put your collar and harness on in a couple of days& time, you&ll have the full set of what it means to be one of Mr Floyd&s ponies. Then we start your training.”

Nursing her hurts from inside and out and exhausted beyond anything she had ever experienced, Sophie staggered back to her cell aware of the thin but livid red lines across her quivering breasts as she moved. She slept for a very long time despite the pains and after they fed her the following day she was measured for her tack. Every aspect of her body was subjected to measurement and not one remark made by either of the men who did it was addressed to her. Even the comments about how neat and tidy her inner labia were as they measured her inside leg and the distance between her anus and her clitoris were not meant for her.

She was learning.

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