Read Online THE GLADIATOR by Sean O'Kane - Free Book Online

the familiar thrills of imminent competition and exhibitionism stir her insides into warm soup as the dildos were finally screwed in to their fullest extent and the strap was eased between her legs, the studs just digging into the fleshy labia and Carlo’s infernal concoction beginning to make her anus burn.
    Since the first show, he had made one refinement to the harness. Tara and Jet now had two reins coming off their bits. The inner reins connected to the bits of the two girls who provided the main pull for the chariot and they were connected to each other as well. That meant that a tug on Jet’s or Tara’s outer rein made the whole team swing in the required direction, making the steering much more responsive. As it turned out, it needed to be.
    Once they were all led out and hitched up to their rigs they were walked out to where the races would take place. The arena had evidently been judged to be too small. So further along the valley a wooden ‘circus’ had been constructed, modelled on the classic Roman pattern. It was a long narrow stadium with boards down the middle, but also there were tall boarded partitions sticking out from the edges, narrowing the track in places. Tara understood their purpose immediately. They were chicanes, designed to bring the chariots together and make the teams fight for the way ahead as well as just race.
    But Carlo was plainly unhappy, from what she could make out these chicanes had never been mentioned to him, so his stable had never had a chance to practise. He stood in front of Tara, his fists balled on his hips and confronted the man who was clearly the owner of the opposing team. He was tall, with thick black hair and sharp features, and he was smiling and inviting Carlo to back out. He was also inviting him to consider how it would look if he did so. Carlo really had no choice and went into a huddle with the drivers to discuss tactics, but with such short notice all he could do in the end was walk along the lines of his ponies and tell them to fight better than they had ever done before; and run faster.
    As it turned out the races were thrillingly brutal. The chariots did indeed have to fight for the way ahead and time and again teams of girls were sent hurtling into squealing chaos as they ricocheted off the wooden boards; going down in tangles of legs and arms. The drivers would have to dismount and desperately disentangle harnesses and girls before he could continue. On several occasions the team going down managed to get involved with the team just behind them; enough to bring them down as well. Tara gritted her teeth around her bit till her jaws ached as she fought whoever came within range and she took a savage joy in the cacophony of noises as the roar of the crowd mingled with cries of the girls, the thuds of the bodies hitting the boards and the smack of the whips.
    No substitutes were allowed so in between races Carlo and the guards scurried from rig to rig, spraying anaesthetic onto sprains and dabbing disinfectant into cuts. The ponies frisked and squealed into their bits at the not-so-tender ministrations and by the end of the third race even Tara was reduced to helpless panting – her vision all but obscured by sweat and tears from the harness’s chaffing at her skin and its insidious rubbing at her interior.
    Carlo strutted triumphantly after scores had been tallied; plainly they had done enough to win. But it had been a bruising contest. Back in the barn, several of the girls were placed on tables and attended to. Jet was badly grazed from a close encounter with one of the chicanes, Tara herself was bleeding from several cuts over her shoulders where whips had caught her repeatedly. Two other girls were limping badly and one was carrying a nasty cut on one thigh from one of the collisions.
    They had two hours to rest and eat and then the afternoon would be spent in the arena.
    The solo fighters would be centre stage in the circus for pursuit running and then