Naked Ambition by Sean O'Kane Page A

female - would look in on the barracks before they came to chain them all down for the night and lob in a handful of dildos and vibrators, then stand and watch the cat fights as the desperate girls fought each other for the right to be first to masturbate. Amelia felt no shame about having thrown herself into the naked wriggling mass on the floor; only pride when she managed to bring an expensive vibrator back for Seventy-six.
    She knew that Angel would not allow any more of that before the games. In fact it might well be that they would not be allowed to sleep with anyone at all for several nights before the games. The slaves needed to get to the arena as frustrated and horny as it was possible to get them.
    They ran farther and were whipped to ever greater speeds. They were harnessed and drilled mercilessly in dressage. They ran the chariots around the arena until they were dizzy. They boxed, wrestled and fought with whips until girls collapsed in exhaustion. They were even driven on under the sweltering mid day sun, something that had never happened before and Amelia could only assume that they were destined for somewhere hot.
    The solitary confinement pits at the side of the training ground stood empty, because punishments were handed out in the form of summary whippings at the posts. The days passed in a seemingly endless series of painful and exhausting training sessions that left the slaves prone, sweat-streaked, bruised, welted and gasping for breath.
    Through the mass of prostrate, naked girls strode Angel and the Countess de Groncourt. Always Angel wore her shining boots and her pressed jodhpurs with a crisp white shirt against which her magnificent breasts swelled. Beside her the dark haired countess would stroll; a wide brimmed sun hat on her head and a fabulously expensive sundress to mid calf, enclosing her graceful figure. Occasionally Angel would prod a gasping slave with her riding crop and pass comment to one of the guards.
    One day they had spent the morning practising kicks. One slave stood with a plastic shield held at chest height while another had to kick it hard from standing directly in front of her. Each high kick had to be hard and fast. They were expected to launch at least thirty in a minute. Angel stood by with a stopwatch as the rate of kicking inevitably declined as the girls tired. Amelia’s eyes stung as sweat streamed into them, her hair clung maddeningly to her face and try as she might, each time her kicking foot touched the ground and she tried to raise it again, it moved more and more slowly. She gritted her teeth and screamed with effort as the minute wore on and her muscles cramped and protested.
    The guards passed behind the row of high-kicking girls and ‘helped’ by flicking with their whips between their legs as they delivered the kicks.
    At last Angel blew her whistle and the kickers collapsed gratefully; Amelia felt sure her heart would burst. But slowly her breathing came back under control and she sat up to take a swig of water from a tin jug that was being passed around.
    “Not too bad!” Angel called out. “Swap places now!”
    For a blessed minute she was able to just stand and hold the shield while another girl tried desperately to pump one leg up and down, delivering kicks up on tip toe with her other leg, then kicking leg down, touch the ground, kick again.
    Amelia grinned fiercely as she saw the girl’s gathering exhaustion and felt the blows lessen and slow as the minute wore on. She rallied a bit as a guard snapped his whip up into her cunt a few times but by the end she was screaming with effort and hardly able to stand any more.
    Once again there was a short rest and the guards conferred with Angel, then she called out a few numbers and the luckless slaves – guilty of not having tried their hardest were dragged to the posts and given fifty lashes each.
    Amelia sat and watched the deliciously writhing forms and listened to the exciting sounds of the whips.