amount of time, or to lead round by the hair and/or nipples for a bit before using an Irish whip or hip throw to get her down.
Curiously enough even the bruises and the pain didn't bother Tara - or any of the others it seemed. If anything they were more than ready to service the men when they required it, which was almost always. So for hours on end the hold would echo to the sounds of bodies being thrown onto the mats, girls grunting and straining as they struggled, the snap of whips as the guards encouraged them and then around the mats, there were the softer noises. Here a girl would have been fingered so long and thoroughly that she was squelching, there one would be on all fours, moaning in pleasure while a guard knelt behind her, and mostly there would be girls on their knees before their guards with thick rods of manhood between their stretched lips. Tara found that she especially enjoyed being ordered to her knees after she had finished a training bout, somehow it seemed fitting to end it like that.
In the afternoons the sessions would get harder. That was when additions were made. Instead of fighting each other with wrists chained just to get to one wall of the hold, they were introduced to whip duels. In these they would face each other with a whip of many flat-bladed strands about eighteen inches long and attempt to flog the other girl into submission. Tara found that she hadn't the slightest compunction about whipping another girl. They had all become so used to whips by then, due to the evening activities, that it just seemed part and parcel of what they were and how they lived. They were slaves - even Tara had given up trying to deny it - and had obviously been picked for their slavish inclinations and physical abilities. It was pure pleasure to find a whip in her hand and an opponent to overcome. The duels demanded fast reactions, physical stamina and high pain thresholds. Tara had all three and she always won. She could twist away from incoming slashes of the whip, drag her opponent off balance and get her own blow in, in one single graceful move. But she never repeated her first mistake. She tormented her opponents, drawing out the contest, even letting them land a few blows on her just to make it more interesting - and she had to admit more pleasurable; she was beginning to allow herself to enjoy the hot skin-burn of the whip - she lapped up the cheers of the men as she danced infuriatingly in front of her tiring opponent, until finally she would wrap her whip's lashes round the handle of her foe's and wrench it from her hand. From then on she would choose her targets. A beaten girl's first reaction would be to shield her breasts, so she would lash the fronts of the thighs, to make her drop her arm, then swing one in over the girl's shoulder which would make her straighten; and then she had a clear shot and would make the soft swells of the breasts ripple and shake under the lash. Just as the audience liked. But it wasn't just Tara who had learned her lessons, her victims would play their part too. They would react with screams and gasps and twists, and stagger about more than was strictly necessary, but enough to make a good show.
Eventually they would collapse to their knees and offer her their surrender by letting her spread her legs in front of their faces and then licking her. Tara found that an exquisitely delicate pleasure to balance the rough fucks she got from the men. The delicate, knowing tongues, lapping and swirling around her engorged clitoris were the perfect opposite to the brutal, breathtaking penetrations she got several times a day. She loved both of them equally. But even the losers found their pleasure, as Tara herself had, the one and only time she had lost.
Climaxes under punishment gradually became commonplace. It seemed that the elements which made up the girls' new lives; physical conflict, domination, discipline and sex were becoming more and more mixed and blurred in their
Curiously enough even the bruises and the pain didn't bother Tara - or any of the others it seemed. If anything they were more than ready to service the men when they required it, which was almost always. So for hours on end the hold would echo to the sounds of bodies being thrown onto the mats, girls grunting and straining as they struggled, the snap of whips as the guards encouraged them and then around the mats, there were the softer noises. Here a girl would have been fingered so long and thoroughly that she was squelching, there one would be on all fours, moaning in pleasure while a guard knelt behind her, and mostly there would be girls on their knees before their guards with thick rods of manhood between their stretched lips. Tara found that she especially enjoyed being ordered to her knees after she had finished a training bout, somehow it seemed fitting to end it like that.
In the afternoons the sessions would get harder. That was when additions were made. Instead of fighting each other with wrists chained just to get to one wall of the hold, they were introduced to whip duels. In these they would face each other with a whip of many flat-bladed strands about eighteen inches long and attempt to flog the other girl into submission. Tara found that she hadn't the slightest compunction about whipping another girl. They had all become so used to whips by then, due to the evening activities, that it just seemed part and parcel of what they were and how they lived. They were slaves - even Tara had given up trying to deny it - and had obviously been picked for their slavish inclinations and physical abilities. It was pure pleasure to find a whip in her hand and an opponent to overcome. The duels demanded fast reactions, physical stamina and high pain thresholds. Tara had all three and she always won. She could twist away from incoming slashes of the whip, drag her opponent off balance and get her own blow in, in one single graceful move. But she never repeated her first mistake. She tormented her opponents, drawing out the contest, even letting them land a few blows on her just to make it more interesting - and she had to admit more pleasurable; she was beginning to allow herself to enjoy the hot skin-burn of the whip - she lapped up the cheers of the men as she danced infuriatingly in front of her tiring opponent, until finally she would wrap her whip's lashes round the handle of her foe's and wrench it from her hand. From then on she would choose her targets. A beaten girl's first reaction would be to shield her breasts, so she would lash the fronts of the thighs, to make her drop her arm, then swing one in over the girl's shoulder which would make her straighten; and then she had a clear shot and would make the soft swells of the breasts ripple and shake under the lash. Just as the audience liked. But it wasn't just Tara who had learned her lessons, her victims would play their part too. They would react with screams and gasps and twists, and stagger about more than was strictly necessary, but enough to make a good show.
Eventually they would collapse to their knees and offer her their surrender by letting her spread her legs in front of their faces and then licking her. Tara found that an exquisitely delicate pleasure to balance the rough fucks she got from the men. The delicate, knowing tongues, lapping and swirling around her engorged clitoris were the perfect opposite to the brutal, breathtaking penetrations she got several times a day. She loved both of them equally. But even the losers found their pleasure, as Tara herself had, the one and only time she had lost.
Climaxes under punishment gradually became commonplace. It seemed that the elements which made up the girls' new lives; physical conflict, domination, discipline and sex were becoming more and more mixed and blurred in their
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