Slave Of The Aristocracy: A Gentlemen's Agreement Part 15

Every gentleman's eye was drawn to Irene's crotch. The stainless steel chast.i.ty belt sparkled in the spotlight.

It was shocking to see a slave wearing such a device. Slaves were the polar opposite of chaste. They were always freely available to for s.e.xual use. Always.

To emphasize her unavailability, stainless steel cups were locked over her generous b.r.e.a.s.t.s as well.

Prominent padlocks secured both halves of the stainless steel bikini. Solid steel bodies with thick, case-hardened shackles ostentatiously functional, not decorative. n.o.body was going to remove them unless they either had the key or employed serious cutting equipment.

Not one of the thirty-three gentlemen in this room had set foot in a machine shop. They could no more cut steel than fly to the stars.

Some thought about who might have the key; some considered that the only orifice that was available was Irene's mouth; all could think about nothing but how to get access to her s.e.x.

She tapped the steel plate that was secured across her crotch. "As you can see, I'm not able to partic.i.p.ate. I am a referee. You and the slave of your choosing are the compet.i.tors."

As she spoke, eight nude slaves filed into the room and lined up under spotlights along the wall next to her. Each slave held a placard with a number from one to eight over her head.

"You have been divided into eight teams," Irene said to the gentlemen. "Your armbands indicate your team. I suggest that you find your team mates and stand together so that you can discuss choosing your slave."

The men shuffled about, looking for armbands that had the same colors, logo, and team name as their own. The gentlemen had been a.s.signed to teams such that each team had about the same variation in age and social status. Lord Snow had not a.s.signed himself to a team. His armband was black and white striped to indicate that he, too, was a referee.

Irene gave the gentlemen a couple of minutes to organize themselves, and then said, "If you are ready, we will begin choosing your slaves. You are advised to choose the slave that you believe will be the most proficient at a variety of s.e.xual compet.i.tions. The order of choosing will be determined by lot." She reached into an opaque vase that was sitting on the table next to her and, without looking, drew a black and gold silk pennant from it. "Gentlemen, Team Buccaneer has the first pick of their slave."

The four gentlemen who were wearing black armbands with a golden skull and crossbones embroidered on them, chatted with each other for a minute, and then said, "We choose Slave Four."

Irene tied the pennant about Cherry's neck like a bandana and sent her out to join the Buccaneers.

Following the same procedure, Team Paladin white helm on a red field chose one of the two borrowed slaves; Team Stallion black horse rearing on a green field chose Tamarind; and so forth.

Nickel was the last slave chosen and was a.s.signed by default to Team Hawk red hawk on a blue field.

Irene could tell that Nickel was trying to look enthusiastic, but she couldn't feign the sincerity that infused the other slaves. They were genuinely excited about the impending compet.i.tion, even though they had no idea what events might be planned.

"I wish you all the best of luck," Irene said. "Without further delay, let the games begin. The first three events will be tests of physical prowess. We begin with the c.u.n.t pull."

The two borrowed slaves looked puzzled. Lord Snow's slaves grinned at each other.

"Teams, if you will retire to the walls to clear the center of the room, please."

Two pennants were hanging from each wall. Though not instructed and not required, the teams automatically migrated to stand under their own pennants.

The billiard table had been removed from the room, again, but tonight, the floor was not padded.

A white circle, six feet in diameter, had been painted on the center of the floor. Irene carried a bundle of ropes to the center of that circle and began laying it out. When she was finished, eight ropes were lying like a large, skinny octopus. They were all connected in the center. A double plastic cone and anchor, identical to the c.u.n.t weights, was attached to the other end of each rope.

"Slaves, on your hands and knees, facing outward with your toes touching the edge of the circle." She walked around, nudging the slaves into the proper position so that they were equally s.p.a.ced and the little d.i.l.d.os were lying between their feet. When she was satisfied, she said, "Now insert the d.i.l.d.os into your c.u.n.ts."

The two borrowed slaves were at a serious disadvantage. They looked confused but they did as they were ordered.

Lord Snow's slaves were already concentrating their energy on their now-filled c.u.n.ts.

"On my mark, begin pulling. As soon as your d.i.l.d.o is pulled out, return to your team. The last slave to retain her d.i.l.d.o in her c.u.n.t wins. On your mark, get set, pull!"

The slaves all leaned away from the center of the circle to take the slack out of the ropes.

The two borrowed slaves lost their d.i.l.d.os immediately, crawled away from the circle and then walked to the wall. They knew better than to complain but their expressions indicated that they thought the compet.i.tion stupid and unfair.

They couldn't understand why all the other slaves hadn't lost their d.i.l.d.os just as quickly.

The compet.i.tion was more strategic than it appeared at first. By shifting their position to pull at a different angle and there was nothing in the rules to prohibit that two or three slaves could combine their efforts to pull the d.i.l.d.o out of a single slave on the other side of the ring.

Nickel lost her d.i.l.d.o to a joint effort by Lime, Cherry, and Peach.

Once the gentlemen realized that this weird game was going to be a hard-fought compet.i.tion, they began placing wagers. The room filled with offers of bets, odds, and acceptances.

Apple and Tamarind conspired to pop Cherry's d.i.l.d.o.

The gentlemen roared with approval and began cheering their favorites among the remaining compet.i.tors.

Apple and Tamarind popped Peach's d.i.l.d.o next, to the dismay of the gentlemen who had money riding on her.

That left Lime, Tamarind, and Apple in a three-way pull. No two of them were willing to pair up again so it became a game of brute c.u.n.t strength.

The crowd fell silent as they watched the three slaves strain against each other.

Lime slipped first. Her d.i.l.d.o was jerked out with a juicy plop.

The gentlemen cheered and jeered, depending on how their bets were laid.

Tamarind and Apple crawled apart and repositioned themselves so that they were facing directly away from each other and then carefully took all the slack out of the ropes that connected them.

The gentlemen began laying a new round of wagers. Tens of thousands of plaqs were going to change hands, depending on which of the two slaves had the strongest c.u.n.t muscles.

Team Stallion Tamarind was the odds-on favorite.

Irene had no idea how the men set the odds how could they possibly know which slave had the better-developed c.u.n.t? but she would have bet on Apple. The younger slave should have better muscle tone than the older.

Neither slave was willing to risk a quick finish if one jerked hard, she was as likely to void her own c.u.n.t as her compet.i.tor's. Or maybe the sudden shock would pull both d.i.l.d.os free. Instead, they pulled carefully and steadily, each trying to wear the other down.

The gentlemen turned out to be better judges of c.u.n.t than Irene was. After a long time minutes of strain, Tamarind pulled the d.i.l.d.o free of the younger slave.

Apple dropped to the floor in shame while Tamarind crawled all the way to her team, keeping her d.i.l.d.o inside her, dragging the seven other d.i.l.d.os behind like a limp, multi-forked tail.

The gentlemen on her team shouted their congratulations at her.

Irene almost collapsed in relief. The first three events all challenges of physical prowess wouldn't offer the gentlemen any personal s.e.xual satisfaction. Depriving the gentlemen on the front end had been a risk. She had predicted that, as much as gentlemen liked f.u.c.king slaves, they would like gambling with each other more, at least for a few minutes. It looked like she was correct.

"Gentlemen," she shouted, "the official winner of the first compet.i.tion is Team Stallion. Second place is Team Flame. Third place is Team Demon." Raucous cheers accompanied each announcement. She marked the scores on a whiteboard that had been mounted on the wall.

She gave the gentlemen ample time to discuss the game, razz each other, and settle accounts while she arranged the equipment for the next event.

When that task was finished she clapped her hands for attention. "Gentlemen, your attention please." The gentlemen continued to talk excitedly, but muted their volume so that Irene could talk over it.

"The second event will commence forthwith. This will be a test of lingual dexterity. As you can see, eight large black rubber c.o.c.ks have been arranged on stands in a row down the center of the room. Each of these c.o.c.ks has four electrical switches located around the head, one on each side, one on the top, and one on the bottom. The slave is required to complete circuits around the head of her c.o.c.k by licking the bottom, top, left, and right sides in that order. Remember that, slaves. Bottom, top, left, right. No other order will count as a complete licking. You must press each side hard enough to close the switch. That will be indicated on the board in front of your c.o.c.k. The first slave to completely lick her c.o.c.k one hundred times will be the winner. There are points awarded for second and third place as well. Do not stop until you have reached a count of a hundred because there is also a punishment for the slave who comes in last place in today's compet.i.tions. You want to win but you also don't ever want to come in last. Any use of hands will mean automatic disqualification. As will taking the c.o.c.k into your mouth. This is a compet.i.tion for tongues only no lips or teeth. Slaves, take your places."

The gentlemen started placing bets even before the slaves had begun to move to the center of the room.

The rubber c.o.c.ks were arranged at waist height. The slaves had to kneel upright in front of them. The unpadded floor would be painful on their knees after a couple of minutes, but n.o.body was concerned about their comfort.

"Slaves, wait for my mark to begin. May the fastest and most dexterous tongue win! On your marks, ready, set, go!"

Pink tongues began darting out of open mouths and lights began flashing on the boards in front of them. Small green lights that were arranged on the cardinal points on a circle indicated successful closures of the top, bottom, left, and right switches and red numbers counted the number of successful completions.

The start was rocky. It was a difficult task and slaves failed to press hard enough to close the switches or got the order wrong. Some slaves kept their heads stationary and endeavored to reach all the switches by extending their tongues alone; others tried bobbing their heads around the c.o.c.k. The first was a strain because the c.o.c.ks were large but the second strategy was slow because a head couldn't move as nearly as quickly as a darting tongue.

The most successful strategy seemed to be a combination of small head movements while straining to get the tongue extended far enough.

Once the slaves got the bugs worked out, they began to count completed circuits of the c.o.c.ks quickly.

It wasn't long before every rubber c.o.c.k was dripping with slave saliva.

The gentlemen kept placing new wagers constantly as the numbers mounted and clear favorites began to emerge. At the halfway point, one of the borrowed slaves was in the lead but she began to falter as her tongue grew fatigued. The other borrowed slave pa.s.sed her. Irene got the impression that both of those slaves had licked a lot of c.o.c.k.

Cherry was keeping the pressure on them. She was in third place, only a few licks behind the lagging borrowed slave but Peach was gaining fast on all of them. She had been slow to develop her strategy but once she was in her groove, her tongue was racing below and above, left and right, around the rubber c.o.c.k.

Nickel was far behind everyone else. She gloried in getting her own c.u.n.t expertly licked, but she seldom gave oral service to anyone else. Her tongue was almost virgin.

The borrowed slave hit a hundred first and her board began to flash. A light glowed bright blue above the numbers.

The gentlemen began to cheer. A member of her team helped to her feet and held her hand high above her head.

Almost immediately, Peach hit one-hundred and a red light glowed on her board.

Another gentleman from her team helped her to her feet and held her hand high while Cherry scored third place, illuminated a white light, and was hoisted to her feet.

The other slaves were almost ignored as they straggled to one hundred.

Nickel never reached eighty. When all the other slaves were done, she ignominiously stopped licking, staggered to her feet without aid and slunk away to wait under Team Hawk's banner.

Once again, Irene announced the winners and then let the gentlemen settle their wagers while she prepared for the third event.

"Gentlemen, your attention, please. We have tested c.u.n.t and mouth, so what remains?"

Someone shouted "a.s.sholes!"

Some wag answered, "I know what you are, but glad to meet you anyway!"

Irene laughed. "Please, gentlemen. My delicate ears are shocked to hear such language."

The crowd laughed with her.

"How about your a.s.shole, dear? Is that also locked away inside your steel panties?" the wag asked.

She turned and stuck her a.s.s out to show that her nether hole was also armored. "Eat your heart out, sir, because you won't be eating out my pink rosebud tonight."

The crowd howled in merriment. The shock of a slave making such a disrespectful comment to a gentleman was astounding. And in public. Only Slave Irene could get away with such a thing. Any other slave would be beaten to within an inch of her life. Or killed outright.

"But you are correct, gentlemen, the next event will be a test of a.s.shole capacity. We will find out which of these slaves can take the biggest intrusion. You see arranged along the far wall, eight pink plastic cones. Each slave will impale her a.s.shole on one of the cones and see how far she can violate herself. Of course, being a cone, every inch of violation requires that her a.s.shole be stretched an additional quarter inch in diameter. To accommodate six inches of cone, she will have to stretch herself to an inch and a half; eight inches will require accommodating a two inch diameter." That was a slight exaggeration because the tip of the cone was rounded and was an inch shorter than a sharp cone. But the description was accurate enough for her purposes. "The depth that you accommodate the cone will be indicated on the dial above your cone. As you impale yourself, you will push back the beads that are riding on the top and bottom of the cone. That moves a lever that pushes the needle to a higher number. There is one caveat. Any slave who tears herself will be disqualified." They needed that rule because the gentlemen would expect their slave to tear her own a.s.shole to shreds if that were required for her to win. And some of the slaves might just do it. "This is a test of your ability to accommodate a ma.s.sive c.o.c.k, not your ability to rape yourself. So be sensitive about when you are reaching the limit of your sphincter's capacity." She looked at the slaves. "This is not a timed event. Take your time. You don't need to be first, you need to be biggest. So, slaves, go ahead and impale your a.s.shole on the cone of your choice."

The slaves sauntered over to the cones, and examined them. They glistened with fresh lube. A black scale inscribed into the topside of each cone indicated the length and diameter at each point. The measuring beads rested at the three-quarter inch mark and the needles above the cones confirmed this. Scoring wouldn't start until the slave had impaled herself with at least two inches of cone.

Tamarind was the first to turn around, bend sharply at the waist, and impale herself. She immediately took the cone up to the inch and a half diameter mark, as indicated by the needle above her backside. The nearest gentleman could see that confirmed by the mark on the cone where it disappeared inside her. She pushed herself further and moved the bead to the inch and three-quarters mark.

The other slaves followed suit.

Breaking two inches was a problem. A slave never had to accommodate a p.e.n.i.s that was larger than that.

The slaves rocked back and forth, easing off and then pushing on to stretch themselves another fraction of an inch.

All of the slaves were doing well. Except Nickel. She had maxed out at slightly less than an inch and seven-eighths and was going no further. She sweated and pushed and groaned and tried but to no avail.

Irene felt for her. She knew that Nickel had been torn at the last entertainment and, though she would have mostly healed by now, would still be fragile.

She moved close to examine Nickel's cone. When Nickel backed off a bit in order to give herself momentum to ram harder on the cone, Irene saw a small smear of blood.

Irene had to admire her grit.

She touched Nickel on the a.s.s and said, "Enough. You're bleeding. You have torn yourself because you failed to accommodate that much of the cone. That is a disqualification. Move away and stand up."

Nickel stood and whirled on Irene. Her face was a mask of rage. "I wasn't done. I could have taken more."

"The referee's judgment is final," Irene said.

One of the gentlemen from Nickel's team, the Hawks, said, "You're ordered to let her finish. I've got money riding on her and I don't care if she splits herself in half on the d.a.m.ned cone."

Irene knew him. Lord Wright was a powerful man who sat in committee with Marquette Kelly. Something about studying possible changes to the property tax laws. She was trying to frame a diplomatic answer when Lord Snow interrupted.

"You don't care," Lord Snow said, "but I do. It violates the rules of the game and I don't see the point of losing this slave's value when she's already lost the compet.i.tion. If tearing her a.s.shole open were allowed, then all the slaves would do the same and she still wouldn't win and I'd lose every slave in my kennel."

Snow was taking a chance by defying Wright but the other gentlemen were nodding in agreement and some of them were earls so Wright would have to swallow his pride. And accept the loss of his wagers.

It went down hard, but he did. "Okay. Let's see who I can bet on to win my money back."

He wouldn't have trouble placing another bet wagers were being haggled loudly throughout the room but he might find it hard to win his money back. While he had been arguing about Nickel, the other gentlemen had been studying the contestants.

The slave's grunts and groans could barely be heard over the general hubbub.

After another couple of minutes, Irene clapped her hands and called for quiet. "Gentlemen, I'm calling time. Your loyal slaves will never give up; they'll keep pushing until their a.s.sholes grow another size, even if that takes a month. Slaves, wherever you are right now is your final score. Push no more and remove yourselves from your cones. Remain in front of them until your score is noted."

A couple of slaves gave one last effort to impale themselves further, others didn't, but all pulled themselves off the cones with visible reluctance. They didn't want to quit.