Blonde Fury by Sean O'Kane Page B

moment the two defenders’ breasts were flattened by the flailing arms. The girls spun away on their skates and were caught again by the tall girl’s team coming up behind them . One was simply barged backwards off her feet and slid helplessly down on to the in-field, from where she had to try and rejoin the action, the other took a knee to the groin, as she spread her thighs for balance . S he spun away from that and was hoisted high over the outer railings by a third girl.
    The crowd in the café was ecstatic as the action was replayed in slo-mo . When the programme picked up the action again, t he tall brunette had got to the front and the chubby blonde pass maker, guarded by a group of four team mates, skilfully gathered a ball thrown from the in-field, took aim without missing a beat and torpedoed it down the straight. The tall brunette leaped high, her long limbs gleaming in the flood lights, two other s leapt with her and clawed desperately at her breasts and tried to pin her legs together but they couldn’t stop her making the catch, although she came down heavily onto the wooden track and all three rolled and fought, punching breasts and grop ing for cunt holds until marsha ls from the in-field pulled them apart and set the field for the second jam of the set , that lap having been the last of the fifteen laps . The camera briefly followed the tall catcher as she limped off and sat down to regain her breath while her team’s defence squad took to the track.
    For some reason that Sophie couldn’t figure out, the cameras seemed to linger on the tall girl , panning lovingly down her body so that they could all see the scratches on the big breasts and inner thighs as she sat with carelessly opened legs, towelling herself down and setting her breasts to swinging and rippling. The blonde pass maker came across and lovingly kissed the upper slopes of her breasts . But then both girls jerked and gasped as a handler swiped them with a riding whip across their backs to settle them down.
    Sophie snorted in disgust as Tom returned with a couple more glasses of wine.
    “Poor cows,” she said, as the action got underway again and the crowd cheered. “I wonder where they are now and what’s happening to them?”
     

     
     
    Ace and Tracey were woken by the door being opened by the head groom, even at the end of the day looking crisp and neat in a white blouse and jodhpurs. She urged them out of bed and waited while they stretched and finally assumed the open-legged, hands behind back stance of ‘stand easy’. Then she buckled cuffs on them and pinned their hands, opened their mouths and fastened their tongue rings to their leashes, turned and led them out, side by side. Ace managed to glance sideways enough to catch Tracey’s eye as they were led across the now deserted training ground and towards the main house once more. For a moment her heart raced with fright, she didn’t want to go back to those people who talked at her, but then she realised it wasn’t her trainer who was leading her, it was the head groom and she was frequently detailed off to deliver slaves to this or t hat dungeon for paying guests. And, t o her relief, once they entered the main hall, they were led downstairs and into the extensive cellars that had been converted into luxuriously equipped dungeons in which a slave girl could be tormented in almost endless ways.
    Ace loved them and she felt Tracey’s hip suddenly rub against hers. This looked promising to both girls.
    They were taken to dungeon IV – Ace just having time to notice the number before they were inside and the door was closed with a thrillingly heavy slam. Scott Holroyd stood before them. He had already taken off his shirt and his broad, muscular torso sent shivers of excitement running through Ace, just like the tails of the flogger he held were running through his fingers. It was one she was well acquainted with, its many tails were of hard leather, cut square. It hurt