Free Into The Arena by Sean O'Kane Page A

with no echo, but the impact was no less devastating. A thin line of bitter fire erupted across her buttocks and around her left hip where the flexibility of the rod allowed it to lovingly follow the contours of her body. Even strung up as tightly as she was, she jerked and groaned. A second lash cracked in, again across her buttocks and hip, again she jerked and twisted. A third one hit her and she couldn't restrain a cry this time as another narrow blaze of pain was ignited. The fourth lash made her yell as it crossed the earlier tracks and redoubled the fires raging across her bottom.
    This was so unfair. It was so savage and senseless. So cruel! She was so helpless and vulnerable and yet this tyrant was taking no pity, just lashing her for no good reason.
    And as she jerked and screamed her way through another six lashes, no longer able to feel where individual lashes fell, just hear them, feel the impact and experience an escalation in the blinding inferno engulfing her backside, the very cruelty, the injustice and the pitiless nature of a man who could treat a helpless woman like this, began to assume a dark eroticism. When he had whipped her to his heart's content, then he could take her and she could do nothing about it. It was terrible! It was darkly, sweetly terrible.
    When the whip stopped falling and the scarlet storms of pain stopped mounting for a moment, Tara was aware that that treacherous heat was building once again in her lower stomach. No! She gritted her teeth, she wasn't going to become like the girls just now who had juiced so shamelessly under the cane.
    Carlo returned to stand in front of her. He lined up his whip against the fronts of her thighs. Tara groaned and shook her head desperately.
    "You are here to learn to entertain the people who watch you. Understand?"
    The final word was accompanied by a lash which had her desperately trying to twist away from the bitter stinging in her thighs. She nodded her head vigorously.
    "You don't just win. You entertain. Understand?"
    Again her thighs exploded in pain, this time high up, just beneath her wrenched-open crotch. But even as she screamed and nodded her head furiously, his cruelty in whipping her just there cranked up the thrill another notch. She fought it down, but another lash, then another had her screaming and shaking her head in denial of the fact that being taken this far, this harshly, was appealing directly to that part of her which had always sought out extreme experiences. Once again she was throwing herself - no, she was being thrown - into a challenge and she knew how that thrilled her.
    "No one cares about your pride anymore. Understand?"
    The whip curled around her stretched taut stomach, she flinched backwards as far as she could, unable even to scream, but nodding her head again.
    "If you win, you win good! You give the audience a good show. Understand?"
    Sshwack!
    Yes, she understood now. She herself was nothing, just part of a show. They didn't care whether she won or lost, just so long as the watchers got a good eyeful.
    Sshwack! Another, higher up, just under her breasts.
    Then he stopped again and came forward, reaching towards her nipples. She drew in her breath and then gasped at the shock of his touch on her sensitive skin. It sent shivers down her and she felt a wave of aching lust in her sex. She groaned in dismay and once again Carlo showed he knew what was going on, he played with the hardening nubs, rubbing them, rolling them and pulling them hard enough to make her give breathless little cries.
    "If they give you the thumbs up or down. It doesn't matter. Understand?"
    She bit her lip, trying to follow his words from behind the storms of pleasure and pain so bizarrely roiling through her whole body. Her arms ached atrociously, her skin felt as if a flamethrower had been played over it, and yet inside she was molten in quite a different way. She nodded and then shook her head. She didn't know what he meant; she didn't know