THE GLADIATOR by Sean O'Kane Read Free Book Online Page B

gratitude and she heard her stablemates’ chains begin an urgent rhythm of clinking as they too took advantage of the offer. Before them the four flogged bodies, laced with slight runnels of crimson in places, but literally covered in thin red lines and splotches of deeper scarlet were eagerly bucking under the bodies of the guards as all the participants in the scene sought to dissipate their excitement.
    The four grooms called themselves ‘the two hundred club’ from then on, and were justifiably proud. Tara envied them and wondered how it would feel to be tested that severely under the lash. She couldn’t deny that she wanted to find out.
     
    Soon after that Carlo disappeared for a couple of weeks and reappeared with a new group of slaves. This time there was no segregation of the squads. Carlo simply led the new girls out onto the training ground and let them meet the twenty four battle hardened veterans. Inevitably there was a mass cat fight as a pecking order was established. Outnumbered and with so much less experience, the new girls were soon battered into submission and the more experienced ones were queuing up to sit astride their faces and enjoy their submission.
    Carlo kept Tara literally on a tight lead beside him as they watched the spectacle of naked female aggression, and only let her off when there was one new girl still standing. She was a black haired, gypsy looking girl who was wiry and tough, and was surrounded by a ring of downed and groaning opponents. Jet, Cherry and Pinky amongst them Tara noted with interest.
    Once her lead was unclipped, she needed no further order. It was plain that Carlo wanted her to take this one down. But she soon found out what her troops had already discovered - whatever she lacked in experience and technique the gypsy girl made up for in raw courage and strength. Tara threw her again and again, but every time the girl staggered back up and charged. When Tara applied nipple holds, the girl wrenched herself free and accepted the pain without flinching. And even when the dreaded crotch hold had her teetering on her tiptoes, she still tried to kick. Eventually Tara got her down onto her face and twisted one arm high up her back, then reached round and twisted and pinched a hard little nipple until with one final shriek of defiance the girl went limp under her. For a moment Tara stayed where she was, savouring the feel of the sweating body under her, the thrust of the muscular buttocks up into her stomach, the soft fullness of the breast under her hand, but then Carlo arrived.
    He was stripped to the waist, and as he pulled Tara up, there was some cheering from those girls not involved with the squirming and writhing on the dusty ground, where the fruits of victory were still being enjoyed. They knew a challenge when they saw one and so did Tara. Joyfully she threw herself at him, determined to make him work for his inevitable victory. Usually he was keen to demonstrate his expertise at not only defeating any girl he took on but also making an exhibition of his prowess; lifting her high over his head and spinning her before throwing her, lifting her bodily on a crotch hold or twisting her arm to make her squirm at his feet. It was that which Tara always enjoyed, but on this occasion she walked straight into a forearm smash which left her reeling drunkenly and Carlo simply grabbed her between her straddling legs, up-ended her and smashed her down so hard she had been winded and had writhed helplessly for a moment or two. But once she was able to sit up she saw why he had been keen to dominate her so completely. The gypsy girl was on her knees before him and sucking eagerly at his erect cock while he stood arrogantly over her.
    “El Tigre here needs to know who is boss, Blondie,” he told her as she sat up, dazed and still panting. “She needed to be beaten by the best and then see the best beaten. Now she will submit fully to the whip and make a good fighter. Maybe as good