squeezing the base painfully at the same time, making my body swallow some of the jizz that’s demanding to burst out of me. I’m swearing silently inside my head, my mind spinning.
Victor leans in and murmurs, “Focus, Christopher. Now .”
I look up at him, my gaze meeting his. His dark eyes narrow, and I understand.
Yes. Focus. Win. Fucking triumph .
“Masters and Mistresses,” Dahlia continues, “today our drivers will be two slaves trained and skilled to drive this particular type of racing buggy. First we have a beautiful slave, lent to us by Mistress Clara, from London—please welcome DeLayne!”
I hear the applause, and the sound of the buggy next to me being mounted.
“And now we have a slave many of you may know—she has been training to drive the buggies, and has become one of the best in recent months. Let’s welcome our own Ishtar!”
Ishtar? What. The. Fuck.
This is a Girl I myself have played many times as a Master. And God damn it, Master Damon knows exactly what the fuck he’s doing, doesn’t he? I’m so pissed off, if it weren’t for Victor still standing in front of me, glaring me down, I’d… I don’t know what the hell I’d do. Bolt? I can’t do it—not now. But Jesus God, I’m motherfucking spitting mad!
Victor leans in, hitting me with his little whip to cover his quiet muttering. “Calm down, Christopher. It’s not her fault. Use your anger to fuel you. You know how.”
He’s right—I do know. And I will do it. But later, someone is going to pay.
The buggy shifts as Ishtar—a petite blonde with large, gorgeous breasts—gets in. And as mad as I am, I’m also turned on as fuck knowing it’s her that’s about to drive me. My cock gives a hard twitch.
Then the horn sounds and I’m running—running until my legs ache, and the bottoms of my feet hurt from the impact of hard, hooved boots on the ground. With the damn blinders on, I can’t see my competition, but the fact he’s not up in front of me is a good sign. Then suddenly, he is, and I really pour it on, while Ishtar snaps a buggy whip at my back, catching me on the shoulders over and over. Whatever. I’ll run like a fucking fiend anyway.
As I start to pass the big ginger stud, he shoulders me, nearly rocking me off my feet, and pissed, I ram into his side. It gives me a momentary lead, but in seconds he’s pulling ahead again.
Just do it. Have to win.
I think of Master Damon, of what he’s doing to punish me. How I need to show him up. To return the punishment a little. I’m a bastard, after all, and it wouldn’t do for me to ruin my reputation.
I pull in a deep breath, taking in the scents of damp air and eucalyptus trees. It helps my lungs to open up, and I pour on the speed. I catch sight of Dahlia waving a flag as I finish the second lap. My lungs are beginning to burn, but nothing could make me give up now. The redhead slams into my right shoulder again, and again I return the hit, being careful not to overturn the buggy, which is an art in itself. Somehow, my hooves are easier to run in than they are to walk in, and I’m pounding the dirt. I’ll pound him soon enough.
As we round the shorter curve of the arena, I stumble, and hear a startled gasp from Ishtar. I pull hard to the left, trying to pull the weight of the buggy with me, righting it, and it’s fucking hard—painful—but I manage to do it. And the damn ginger is ahead again. I dig my feet into the earth and sprint forward just in time. Dahlia waves the flag madly as I cross the finish line, and the crowd goes crazy. Almost instantly, Victor and the two Boys are there, unharnessing me from the buggy.
“Good boy,” Victor tells me.
I want to tell him to fuck off, but even if I wasn’t gagged with the damn plug, I’m too focused on getting into the ginger’s muscular ass to much care about anything else.
They’re still working on releasing him from his buggy when I lunge at him, pulling him down so fast I take one of the
Victor leans in and murmurs, “Focus, Christopher. Now .”
I look up at him, my gaze meeting his. His dark eyes narrow, and I understand.
Yes. Focus. Win. Fucking triumph .
“Masters and Mistresses,” Dahlia continues, “today our drivers will be two slaves trained and skilled to drive this particular type of racing buggy. First we have a beautiful slave, lent to us by Mistress Clara, from London—please welcome DeLayne!”
I hear the applause, and the sound of the buggy next to me being mounted.
“And now we have a slave many of you may know—she has been training to drive the buggies, and has become one of the best in recent months. Let’s welcome our own Ishtar!”
Ishtar? What. The. Fuck.
This is a Girl I myself have played many times as a Master. And God damn it, Master Damon knows exactly what the fuck he’s doing, doesn’t he? I’m so pissed off, if it weren’t for Victor still standing in front of me, glaring me down, I’d… I don’t know what the hell I’d do. Bolt? I can’t do it—not now. But Jesus God, I’m motherfucking spitting mad!
Victor leans in, hitting me with his little whip to cover his quiet muttering. “Calm down, Christopher. It’s not her fault. Use your anger to fuel you. You know how.”
He’s right—I do know. And I will do it. But later, someone is going to pay.
The buggy shifts as Ishtar—a petite blonde with large, gorgeous breasts—gets in. And as mad as I am, I’m also turned on as fuck knowing it’s her that’s about to drive me. My cock gives a hard twitch.
Then the horn sounds and I’m running—running until my legs ache, and the bottoms of my feet hurt from the impact of hard, hooved boots on the ground. With the damn blinders on, I can’t see my competition, but the fact he’s not up in front of me is a good sign. Then suddenly, he is, and I really pour it on, while Ishtar snaps a buggy whip at my back, catching me on the shoulders over and over. Whatever. I’ll run like a fucking fiend anyway.
As I start to pass the big ginger stud, he shoulders me, nearly rocking me off my feet, and pissed, I ram into his side. It gives me a momentary lead, but in seconds he’s pulling ahead again.
Just do it. Have to win.
I think of Master Damon, of what he’s doing to punish me. How I need to show him up. To return the punishment a little. I’m a bastard, after all, and it wouldn’t do for me to ruin my reputation.
I pull in a deep breath, taking in the scents of damp air and eucalyptus trees. It helps my lungs to open up, and I pour on the speed. I catch sight of Dahlia waving a flag as I finish the second lap. My lungs are beginning to burn, but nothing could make me give up now. The redhead slams into my right shoulder again, and again I return the hit, being careful not to overturn the buggy, which is an art in itself. Somehow, my hooves are easier to run in than they are to walk in, and I’m pounding the dirt. I’ll pound him soon enough.
As we round the shorter curve of the arena, I stumble, and hear a startled gasp from Ishtar. I pull hard to the left, trying to pull the weight of the buggy with me, righting it, and it’s fucking hard—painful—but I manage to do it. And the damn ginger is ahead again. I dig my feet into the earth and sprint forward just in time. Dahlia waves the flag madly as I cross the finish line, and the crowd goes crazy. Almost instantly, Victor and the two Boys are there, unharnessing me from the buggy.
“Good boy,” Victor tells me.
I want to tell him to fuck off, but even if I wasn’t gagged with the damn plug, I’m too focused on getting into the ginger’s muscular ass to much care about anything else.
They’re still working on releasing him from his buggy when I lunge at him, pulling him down so fast I take one of the
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