Free Last Slave Standing by Sean O'Kane

individual ponies around the outside of the dressage ground as in most other arenas, instead he had laid out a longer circuit using bales of straw to define the track, at places he had added hairpin bends at others he had constructed chicanes and Carlo laughed as soon as he saw it. He understood that it would be a real test of intelligence on the part of the pony and teamwork between her and her driver. Carlo’s relatively short, compact build made him ideal for driving in individual racing and he and Brian both immediately chalked up points to Blondie and him, probably the most experienced pairing on the circuit.
    From there the ponies pulled them for a further half mile until they reached the village that would house the guests. The hotels were low, ranch style buildings and trucks were already being backed up to unload. By the time the show got underway, a fortune in food and drink would have to have been delivered. As the rig rumbled its way along the roads, Brian could see crowds of native labourers digging over flower beds and making repairs to roofs, airing rooms and carrying armfuls of linen. It was as impressive as all the preparations always were to Brian, the sheer scale of the undertaking and the wealth required to fund it, left him in his usual state of excitement. At length they turned for home and Carlo commented on the lack of an assault course as the driver turned the ponies and then crisscrossed their buttocks with a flurry of choice lashes to encourage them homewards.
    Hank explained that the landscape didn’t lend itself to that particular attraction but instead the two owners, at the pre-show meeting had decided that the squads would compete over two mass log pulls, instead of the more normal one. To that end Senor Salazar had used his influence to commandeer two telegraph poles and these Hank pointed out, lying beside the road just outside the arena, as the carriages rumbled back towards the scattering of building around the main house.
    “That should give the punters plenty of whip play to get their teeth into,” he called across and Brian felt further stirrings of excitement at his groin. Up to then he had been calm and professional but if there was one thing he loved, it was being down among the sweating heaving lines of naked slaves as they toiled under their masters’ whips for the pleasure of the voyeuristic crowds.
     
    The pony slaves were beginning to tire as they reached the point where they veered off to the left to carry their passengers up to the big house rather than return them to their barracks. The driver reined them in and they stood, panting and tossing their heads while Carlo gave Hank full authority to take any one of the CSL stable he wanted and have her thrashed to encourage his men by the sight of the quality of slave their boss had hired in.
    “Everyone knows Blondie can take it till the cows come home!” Hank called. “I guess I’ll take one of the newer ones!”
    “Feel free!” Carlo called back and waved.
    Their driver laid the whip on hard and Brian leaned back, eyes closed to savour the sweetness of the sound of pony slaves being whipped up relentlessly. Whether it was because he felt the slaves had not tried their hardest in front of guests or whether it was because he just felt like a fast spin to round the morning off, he didn’t stop thrashing them until they had got up to almost a full gallop and they arrived at the back terrace of the house in fine style with the driver hauling back on the reins and the slaves skidding and clattering in their shoes as their heads were wrenched back.
    Alberto Salazar was waiting for them at the top of the steps leading up to the terrace. His open and friendly face was wreathed in smiles and his right hand held the leads of two magnificent slaves kneeling beside him with legs curled neatly under them. They looked as though they were of native origin but with a fair sprinkling of Spanish blood. Carlo was transfixed as soon as