A Little Sport

 

It was before nine the next morning when George Platt, cap clasped respectfully in his hand, entered Major Havercotte-Gore’s study.

“You wished to see me, Major?”

“Take a look at this, Platt,” the Major said, sliding a paper across the desk to his head keeper.

It was a notification of a public bondslave auction. Prominently displayed was a photograph of two identical naked blonde girls standing in chains. Under the picture was a list of their particulars. Platt studied these for a minute, then perused the picture more closely with a critical eye.

“We don’t see many twins put up for sale, do we, sir?” he observed. “They certainly look pretty enough. Fine for show and bedding no doubt, but they seem a might slim for the hunt. I don’t reckon they’d have the stamina.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” the Major agreed. “But it says they’re proven runners. If they were up to it they’d make splendid additions to the pack and bring it up to full strength.”

“Well, I’d like to see them for myself first, sir.” He looked at the paper again. “Specially with that high a reserve price.”

“That’s the trouble, Platt. Look at the date of the sale - today at three o’clock in Exeter. This confounded notice has been lost in the post for a week!”

“Doesn’t give much time to check them over, even if you can get there before the start, sir.”

“Which is why I want you to come with me. If we leave within the hour we can just make the connection to the West Coast Express. Have the trap made ready for the station and tell Alison she’ll be in charge of the kennels for the day.”

“Right you are, sir.”

“Now; where’s Arabella? She’ll have to see to our guests. Bad show to leave your house while you’ve got people staying, and with the Ball tomorrow!”

“I’m sure they’ll understand, sir,” Platt said. “Most of them being keen hunters themselves, they know you can’t pass up the chance of adding fresh blood to a pack.”

 

The first suspicion Arabella had that something was wrong was as she put the key into the front door of the playhouse. The door was shut but not locked. Surely she had locked it behind her when she had left last night. She was scrupulous about security where slaves were concerned.

She stepped into the house, automatically looking about her. Sue’s bike was no longer resting against the wall of the sitting room. A sudden dread filled her and she raced up the narrow stairs three at a time and burst into the bedroom where she had left Sue. The shackles hung loose, the padlocks were open and the bed was cold and bare.

Arabella tore through the tiny house, searching for Sue in every cupboard and corner, but in her heart she already knew the truth. The playhouse was empty. Her slave was gone.

 

“Pity you have to dash off like this just now, sir,” said Thomas to the Major.

“Though we quite understand how it is,” Gerard added quickly. “Can’t miss the opportunity to acquire prime girlflesh.”

“I hope you find something as rare as that brown vixen of yours,” said Thomas. “Shame we missed her run in the hunt. Hope we’ll see something of her this time.”

Thomas and Gerard’s steamer taxi had just deposited them at the front door of the Hall, where they had met the Major on his way out.

“I’m grateful for your understanding, gentlemen,” the Major replied. “I should be back before dinner. Until then Arabella will look after you... if she condescends to put in an appearance. Ah, there she is at last... Arabella! Come here, please!”

Arabella had appeared, walking with heavy steps along the drive, swishing her riding crop angrily at the gravel. She barely acknowledged her uncle’s call, but turned listlessly towards him.

“Arabella,” the Major said as she slouched up to them, “I’ve been trying to find you for almost an hour...” He caught sight of her face. “What is the matter with you, child?”

“You look as though you’ve found sixpence and lost half a crown,” Gerard said.

Arabella’s lips pinched as though she was controlling herself only with a tremendous effort and her eyes shied away from theirs. “It’s... nothing,” she said, aiming another cut of her crop at the innocent gravel. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Well, do try to look a little more cheerful,” the Major begged. “Remember we have got guests in the house. Now I’ll be away for most of the day. I’ve made my excuses but please see that everybody is properly entertained.”

“Yes, uncle,” she mumbled, still scowling.

At that moment the trap, with Platt already inside, rattled across the gravel and drew up before them. The Major climbed aboard, gave a quick wave and they were off again along the drive.

Thomas and Gerard watched until it was out of sight, then turned to Arabella.

“Well, how have things been, Old Thing?” Gerard asked her. “Have to say you don’t look much brighter than when we left.”

“Yes, how did the hunt go?” Thomas said.

Arabella’s face darkened further. “Don’t talk to me about the hunt!” she snapped.

Thomas and Gerard, old acquaintances of Arabella, knew her moods well enough not to pry further.

“As you like,” Gerard said easily. “Only we were saying to you uncle that we hoped to see more of the new brown girl - Melanie, isn’t it? - while we were here. Did she run as well as you hoped?”

Arabella’s riding crop slashed the gravel again, then paused as a gleam came into her eyes. “Is Platt going with my Uncle as well?” she asked lightly.

“Why yes,” said Thomas. “He wants him along for his opinion. Sound thinking. Got a good eye for sporting flesh has Platt.”

“And they’ll be away most of the day?”

“That’s right - just as your Uncle said.”

A broad smile appeared on Arabella’s face. “So, you’d like to see how well Melanie can run, would you?”

 

Alison Chalmers looked critically about the keeper’s office to check everything was in its place. It was the first time she had been left in charge of the kennels for so long, and she wanted to show she was up to the job.

At the moment the girls were all out working so there was little to do. But later there would be the lunches to oversee and the work reports to make out, and there always had to be somebody on call in case one of the girls had an accident. They were valuable property and Alison took her responsibility towards their care very seriously.

She walked though the connecting door to the Examination and Sick Room. All was as it should be. The barred cell at the end of the room which enclosed a pair of iron-frame beds had fortunately seen little use for months.

She passed through into the Harness Room, redolent as always with its heavy smell of leather and polish - and paused as a memory surfaced.

In here only a few days before she had secretly watched Platt giving Gillian special training. Gillian had been in trouble for refusing a guest the use of her rear passage. Platt had given her a proper thrashing as a punishment, of course, but later he had bound her over a trestle in the Harness room away from the other girls and had taught her how to open her bottom hole to penetration. First he had used an anal plug, then his finger... and finally his penis.

It was the first time Alison had seen a mature male member standing erect, and she’d felt embarrassed and guilty... but also fascinated. She had continued to watch as Platt had given Gillian a lesson in sodomy, tactfully encouraging her to perform to order. Alison wondered if she would ever be that skilled at handling pack girls, and wished she could learn Platt’s special blend of firmness combined with a deep understanding of the bondslave mind.

Her reverie was interrupted by somebody calling her name.

Alison went out into the yard and found Arabella, clad in riding dress, slapping her riding crop impatiently into her gloved palm.

“There you are, Chalmers. Bring Melanie here at once.”

“Melanie’s working in the gardens, Miss Arabella.”

“Then send somebody for her or fetch her here yourself!”

Alison hesitated. She knew well enough Arabella’s reputation for occasionally mistreating the girls. If it had been up to her, Alison would not have let her near any of them in her current mood, far less a prize specimen such as Melanie. But Alison had been given no specific instructions to refuse such a request, and with both the Major and Platt away, Arabella was mistress of the Hall and so entitled to use the girls as she wished.

“I’ll fetch her myself, Miss,” Alison said, and hurried off.

 

When Alison returned ten minutes later with Melanie on a leash and her hands bound behind her back, Arabella was holding a bundle of items she had evidently taken from the Harness Room. Arabella’s eyes gleamed as Melanie appeared, and Alison felt a slight tug on the leash as the slave girl instinctively held back. But Alison handed over the loop end of the leash nevertheless and watched as Arabella led Melanie out through the yard gates.

As they disappeared, Alison felt a sudden shiver. She hoped she had done nothing wrong.

 

Melanie’s stomach was churning at the thought of being in Arabella’s power as she was led through the passage to the stable court. From their very first meeting it had been obvious Arabella had designs on her, and after hearing stories of her behaviour from the other pack girls, she had no desire to find out what they were. Fortunately the Major had kept Melanie for his own use, and of course Arabella had failed to win her in the hunt.

But what now?

Thomas and Gerard were waiting in the courtyard already mounted on their horses. Even though they were both carrying long handled paddles like those she had seen in the hunt, the sight of them was reassuring. She knew they were both gentlemen and sportsmen. Surely they wouldn’t allow Arabella to treat her too badly.

Arabella’s own mount had one of the wheeled frames that were used to transport exhausted packgirls back from the hunt hitched to the back of its saddle. Why did she need that, Melanie wondered?

“There’s our pretty brown vixen all ready for a bit of sport,” Gerard said, running his eyes appreciatively over Melanie’s naked body.

“She’s even better than I remember,” Thomas agreed. “You’ve been training her hard, Arabella.”

“We train all our girls hard,” Arabella said, slinging the bag of equipment she had taken from the harness room onto the frame and then mounting her own animal. Trailing Melanie behind them on her leash, Arabella and her companions rode out of the courtyard and across the gravel drive.

Beyond the garden gate they set out across the fields at a gentle trot. Melanie had to run briskly to keep up, and with her hands tied behind her this accentuated the bounce of her breasts and the roll of her hips. Arabella watched her intently. If Arabella just wants to show me off to Thomas and Gerard that’s fine, Melanie thought.

They reached the woods where Arabella halted the little group. She unhitched the frame from her horse and left it leaning against a tree, then looked at Melanie.

“Now, you are going to give Mister Thomas and Mister Gerard some sport,” she told her. “They never had their reward for capturing you the day you arrived, remember?”

“Yes, Miss Arabella,” Melanie answered brightly, her heart leaping with relief and her nipples hardening and standing up even as she spoke. “I shall be honoured to serve them.”

“Good. But first we need to warm you up...”

Arabella rode up and down the field leading Melanie along behind her while Thomas and Gerard took turns to ride past and smack Melanie with their paddles. The enticing targets of her unprotected breasts and buttocks naturally received most of the blows. Melanie gasped at each stinging impact and her eyes misted with tears, but she tried to show her mettle by maintaining her stride and accepting the punishment bravely, as she would in a real hunt. It was just the prelude for what was to come, the thought of which was already lubricating her lovelips.

The ‘warming’ session ceased when Melanie’s chest was heaving and she was sheened with sweat. With her tender flesh flushed and tingling, Arabella led her into the shelter of the woods.

Thomas and Gerard dismounted.

“Free her hands, Arabella,” Thomas said. “It’s only sporting.”

For a moment Arabella seemed ready to argue, but with a shrug she complied, releasing Melanie’s hands.

Briefly freed of her bonds, Melanie stood between the two men, ready to enact the culmination of the hunt - the capture and subjugation of the prey.

The men circled her, grinning in anticipation. Melanie smiled back, feinted to one side, then lunged in the opposite direction, trying to get between them.

She managed to run five yards before Gerard, with a diving tackle he must have learned on the rugby field, brought her down. His hands caught her ankles and held her fast, despite her desperate kicks and twists. Thomas’s heavy body fell across her back and bore her down. Then she was wrestling with them, three figures rolling on the ground, the men grunting and cursing in frustration and delight as they clasped Melanie’s sweaty, dirt-streaked naked body and strained to control her.

“By God, but she’s strong!” Gerard exclaimed.

“Secure her, Arabella, quickly!” Thomas pleaded.

With a heave the men rolled Melanie over and forced her arms behind her back. There was a slight jangle of chain and she felt handcuffs click about her wrists. Her flailing legs were stretched wide apart. Arabella pushed a spreader bar between them and snapped the spring lock cuffs mounted on its ends about her ankles.

With a whimper of defeat, Melanie ceased to struggle and lay still; a pinioned animal panting for breath, her chest heaving. Her body ached and her skin smarted, but inside she felt a glow of satisfaction. She knew she had given good sport.

The hunters sat back on their heels for a moment to catch their breath and to examine their prize, turning her round between them. Their touch was firm, but not ungentle, and they praised her even as they handled her intimately.

“Well run, girl,” exclaimed Thomas as he squeezed her warm full breasts experimentally; pinching and lifting a dark, plump nipple and letting it snap back, watching her flesh tremble and still.

“Thank you, Master,” Melanie panted.

“Yes, a fine show,” agreed Gerard, running his hand over the smooth swell of her belly, teasing the deep pit of her navel, then sliding his fingers into the tight, dark curls and moist recesses of her cleft. Hands ran down the curve of Melanie’s slender waist and out across the fullness of her hips.

“Fine strong haunches,” said Thomas.

“Lovely full rump,” Gerard commented, his fingers digging into her flesh and parting her buttock cheeks firmly. Melanie felt the surprising coolness of the air touch the tender pucker of her anus. “A dark, tight little hole here, that might repay investigation in due course,” he concluded.

Melanie heard Arabella laugh at his remark. Twisting her head around she saw Arabella seat herself in the hollow of two great splayed roots of an oak tree. She was going to watch as the men used her.

Gerard grasped her hips and pulled Melanie backwards and up onto her widespread knees. Thomas knelt before her, unbuttoning his bulging riding breaches, releasing a thick, purple-headed penis, which seemed to spring to attention before Melanie’s eyes. Gerard gave her a little push and she toppled helplessly forward. Melanie could smell saddle leather and the heavy male scent of his arousal as he lowered her head onto his erect member. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth. Hot, hard, silky flesh pushed past her lips. She sucked and licked dutifully. Thomas pressed her head down further and she swallowed the head of his rampant tool, feeling her throat bulge. A tug on her hair and she was allowed to pull back enough to draw breath. She began to work her tongue and lips harder round his organ, rolling down his tight foreskin to expose the smooth plum at its head.

Behind her, Gerard opened his fly buttons, and she felt the head of his erection brush across her bottom. Then he grasped her hips firmly and drove into her moist slit, stretching the fleshy sheath to accommodate him. She gasped as he penetrated her, and almost choked on Thomas’s cock.

Arabella sat on the oak root with her legs splayed and her hand working busily under her skirts. Her eyes were wide and intent on the scene before her.

Thomas and Gerard worked Melanie’s bound and helpless body to and fro between them, falling into a steadily increasing tempo. Back and forth, back and forth, the pistons of flesh plunging remorselessly inside her. Just time to take a breath as Thomas’s thick rod cleared her throat, even as she was impaled by Gerard’s longer shaft reaming into her cunt again.

The raw lust grew within Melanie and a warm knot began to tighten in her stomach. How perfectly natural it all was after the pain and exertions of the hunt and capture. She was their prize, properly won and now to be enjoyed... and to enjoy.

Thomas came first: hot sperm spurting down her throat. She ground her face into his stomach as he spent so that her nose was buried in the tufts of pubic hair peeping through the vent of his soft linen underwear. Melanie felt Gerard’s urgent ejaculation blossom forth inside her and knew her own need had to be satisfied. Desperately riding his last thrusts into her slit, she came herself; bucking and jerking wildly, pulling at her bonds, and finally collapsing onto the grass.

Exhausted and happily satiated she lay there: a packgirl at peace. The living trophy of the hunt and her captors united briefly by their spent passion.

“Now it’s my turn,” Melanie heard Arabella say brusquely, “How’s her tongue, Thomas? I hope you have warmed her for me. Over here, girl. Crawl!”

Still in a post-orgasmic daze, Melanie obeyed automatically; awkwardly bracing herself by pressing her face and chest into the grass until she could lever herself upright enough to shuffle forward on her widespread knees, moving in undulating jerks rather like a caterpillar, squashing and scraping her tingling breasts across the grass. She was aware of Gerard and Thomas watching her progress from behind, and realized what a sight her raised and naked bottom and widespread thighs must present to them. Even as she edged towards Arabella, she felt Gerard’s sperm start to ooze from her lovemouth and trickle down the insides of her thighs.

Arabella watched her uncomfortable and humiliating approach with a strange mixture of impatience and delight. When she was close enough she thrust out her boots.

“Kiss them!” she commanded.

Painfully, Melanie levered herself upright enough to lift her head from the grass, acutely aware that she was thrusting out her hips and bottom even more than before to keep her balance. She felt the mens’ eyes upon her helplessly exposed cleft as she bent forward and kissed the shiny black leather toes of Arabella’s boots. Arabella smiled, then suddenly parted her legs wide and drew her skirt up to the tops of her thighs, so that Melanie found herself staring up between the two shapely columns of pale flesh to the nest of golden curls at their apex and the swollen vaginal lips that they framed. So Arabella wanted her to lick her out. Well that wasn’t so bad.

But Arabella was edging her bottom forward even as she leaned back. The dark pucker of Arabella’s anus appeared from beneath her mound of Venus.

“I want your nose in my cunny slot and tongue in my bottom hole,” Arabella said.

Melanie faltered, instinctive revulsion at odds with her training to obey.

“Well?” Arabella demanded, in a more menacing tone.

“Please... Miss Arabella... I’ve never done that to anyone. Let me please you in some other way...”

Even as she spoke she was bracing herself for the expected slash of Arabella’s crop. But it didn’t come. She looked fearfully up into Arabella’s face only to see a cold smile of triumph.

“Obviously you need further training,” Arabella said, seeming to relish every word. “I’ll show Uncle how girls should be broken in. Something severe is called for. I think the thistles in the fallow field are tall enough to serve.”

“I say, that’s a bit steep, Arabella,” Gerard exclaimed. He and Thomas were standing now, brushing off their clothes. “Give the girl a thrashing if you must, but don’t start that again. You know the trouble you got into last time.”

Sickening realization dawned on Melanie. Arabella had planned this all along. She’d just been searching for the excuse to do something terrible to her to prove her methods of training, which she’d been pestering the Major about since Melanie’s capture. Fear broke down Melanie’s inhibitions. Stupid for her to have hesitated. She was a slave girl. She was meant to obey.

“Please, Miss Arabella,” she said cravenly. “Forgive me. I’ll do it now.” Melanie tried to push her head between Arabella’s thighs, but Arabella caught her collar and held her back.

“Too late, girl. It’s the thistles for you. Thomas, Gerard: give me a hand with her.”

But now both the men were looking at Arabella in stern disapproval.

“Sorry, Arabella,” Thomas said firmly. “We won’t have any part of this.”

“Look, you’ve already given her a fright, now let the girl please you,” Gerard advised.

“No, she must be punished properly!” Arabella insisted.

“Well you can’t take her through the thistles without us - and we’re not helping you.”

And the two men mounted their horses and rode away through the trees.

Arabella looked at them go with a face contorted by both rage and disbelief. In that moment Melanie saw the naked soul of the spoilt child that lay beneath the adult exterior. Then Arabella turned back to her.

“Don’t think you’ve got away with this,” she warned Melanie ominously. “You’re going to go for a ride you’ll never forget!”