blot out any further thoughts which might follow on from there.
Once back in the main hold, Tara's row of cells having been the second taken out, the other girls were waiting, standing with their backs against the closed doors of the cells; their legs apart and their hands neatly behind their backs. Tara's row were made to adopt the same stance and Carlo addressed them again.
"Your purpose in life from now on is to entertain and to please whoever you are told to. One way you will do that is pretty obvious," and here he gave them his toothy grin again. "But the other is that you will fight for the privilege of pleasing us."
Tara just couldn't work out what he meant but for some reason she felt a rush of adrenalin at his words.
"By that I mean you will fight because we will enjoy watching you and will reward you if you do well. If you don't, you will be punished."
Tara could see her own bewilderment mirrored in the eyes of the other girls. But Carlo was speaking again.
"At the moment you are hungry, yes? Well, I will feed you.......that will be your reward for fighting well. If you don't fight well, then maybe you don't eat, or maybe you get punished first. I will see how I feel. But if you don't fight at all, then you definitely get punished and you definitely don't eat."
In disbelief she listened as he outlined what he had in store for them. They would each be given a number and he would draw numbered balls to see who fought who. A table loaded with muesli, milk and fruit juice had been brought in and placed where they could all see it. Tara's stomach growled even as her mind reeled at the thought that she would have to fight another naked girl just for the privilege of eating..........and just to entertain these men. She could well remember from the club just what an erotic sight two women struggling could be. But here there was no erotic ambience, just nakedness and hunger.......and strong, self-assured men with whips, she added, feeling the beginnings of that excitement she always felt when facing a new challenge.
Carlo went round them all, touching them on the shoulder with his riding crop and giving them their numbers. Tara's was number nine. The big blond man who had whipped the redhead the previous night held out a bag and Carlo dipped his hand in, pulling out the numbers eight and two.
The two girls shuffled forwards nervously, one was another blonde, smaller than Tara and the other girl was the brunette from the cell on Tara's right. A guard clipped a short length of chain between the blonde's left wrist and the brunette's right.
"Now all you have to do is be the first to get to the far wall," Carlo told them, pointing to the far end of the hold. Two more of the guards were busy moving some of the fearsome frames and racks aside. "When I shout 'Go!' You make sure you are the one who wins or you might not eat." Again he grinned, and then shouted, "Go!"
The brunette from the cell to Tara's right was slow, or maybe reluctant, but either way she paid a heavy price. The blonde immediately twisted round and slapped her across the face, then swung her around by the chain, pulling her off balance. She fell headlong and the blonde set off for the far wall tugging her after her. Realising her danger, the brunette rallied and managed to use her free hand to trip the blonde up. And from then on the watchers were treated to a fine display of struggling femininity. Legs intertwined, buttocks and breasts rippled as they were slapped, pinched and scratched. Plump little sex pouches appeared and disappeared between thrashing legs and the girls grunted and yelped as they struggled.
The men began cheering on one or the other and Tara found that her blood was thundering in her veins, just as it had back at the club. It was raw sexuality, it was gladiatorial, two females fighting for the pleasure of an audience. And the pleasure was intense. She found herself screaming encouragement to the brunette; and she wasn't alone. All
Once back in the main hold, Tara's row of cells having been the second taken out, the other girls were waiting, standing with their backs against the closed doors of the cells; their legs apart and their hands neatly behind their backs. Tara's row were made to adopt the same stance and Carlo addressed them again.
"Your purpose in life from now on is to entertain and to please whoever you are told to. One way you will do that is pretty obvious," and here he gave them his toothy grin again. "But the other is that you will fight for the privilege of pleasing us."
Tara just couldn't work out what he meant but for some reason she felt a rush of adrenalin at his words.
"By that I mean you will fight because we will enjoy watching you and will reward you if you do well. If you don't, you will be punished."
Tara could see her own bewilderment mirrored in the eyes of the other girls. But Carlo was speaking again.
"At the moment you are hungry, yes? Well, I will feed you.......that will be your reward for fighting well. If you don't fight well, then maybe you don't eat, or maybe you get punished first. I will see how I feel. But if you don't fight at all, then you definitely get punished and you definitely don't eat."
In disbelief she listened as he outlined what he had in store for them. They would each be given a number and he would draw numbered balls to see who fought who. A table loaded with muesli, milk and fruit juice had been brought in and placed where they could all see it. Tara's stomach growled even as her mind reeled at the thought that she would have to fight another naked girl just for the privilege of eating..........and just to entertain these men. She could well remember from the club just what an erotic sight two women struggling could be. But here there was no erotic ambience, just nakedness and hunger.......and strong, self-assured men with whips, she added, feeling the beginnings of that excitement she always felt when facing a new challenge.
Carlo went round them all, touching them on the shoulder with his riding crop and giving them their numbers. Tara's was number nine. The big blond man who had whipped the redhead the previous night held out a bag and Carlo dipped his hand in, pulling out the numbers eight and two.
The two girls shuffled forwards nervously, one was another blonde, smaller than Tara and the other girl was the brunette from the cell on Tara's right. A guard clipped a short length of chain between the blonde's left wrist and the brunette's right.
"Now all you have to do is be the first to get to the far wall," Carlo told them, pointing to the far end of the hold. Two more of the guards were busy moving some of the fearsome frames and racks aside. "When I shout 'Go!' You make sure you are the one who wins or you might not eat." Again he grinned, and then shouted, "Go!"
The brunette from the cell to Tara's right was slow, or maybe reluctant, but either way she paid a heavy price. The blonde immediately twisted round and slapped her across the face, then swung her around by the chain, pulling her off balance. She fell headlong and the blonde set off for the far wall tugging her after her. Realising her danger, the brunette rallied and managed to use her free hand to trip the blonde up. And from then on the watchers were treated to a fine display of struggling femininity. Legs intertwined, buttocks and breasts rippled as they were slapped, pinched and scratched. Plump little sex pouches appeared and disappeared between thrashing legs and the girls grunted and yelped as they struggled.
The men began cheering on one or the other and Tara found that her blood was thundering in her veins, just as it had back at the club. It was raw sexuality, it was gladiatorial, two females fighting for the pleasure of an audience. And the pleasure was intense. She found herself screaming encouragement to the brunette; and she wasn't alone. All
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