Chapter 15

For twenty days, Francine was to see nothing of Frederica, except for her nightly whippings. She was trained hard every day and felt herself to be fitter than fit when the morning of her first Arena Fight arrived. Her lover seemed to be very busy these days, doing errands for the Mistress and meeting many important looking men. She was clearly going up in the world and trusted by The Great Lady Fortescue.

"You will walk to the Arena, Warrior Slave Francine" said the Mistress on the morning of the Great Day. Your arms are so strong that the parasol will not tire you this time and your feet are now so hard that the sharp stones will not cut them."

Patti was due to fight with the rapier again, Gottman to fight with a club and Francine to box. It had been agreed that she would be bare fisted against an opponent whose hands would be bound with protective and very hard leather. Frederica had pleaded with her Mistress but it was useless. She really was a very obstinate Lady at times! Frederica and she were banking on all three succeeding. Bankruptcy stared the Mistress in the face if any failed. But the Lady Fortescue's lovely features betrayed nothing of the anxiety she must be feeling.

"Your poor hands!" said Frederica as she passed her friend on the way to the cart.

"I will be fine, darling. I have been given something to harden the skin. I dip them in brine very so often and have been practising every day. Look at them! Not a lady's hands any more. A Warrior Slave's hands. I shall win. Have no fear!"

Gottman had told her about her opponent, a doughty lady called Augusta, who was an inch taller than Francine and much heavier.

"You must watch out for the power of her punches, Francine. They are fearsome. She killed her last opponent inside three rounds. Most others have been hospitalised and crippled for life. Keep out of trouble early on and use your speed to wear her out. You can win, but it will be the ordeal of your life and you will never look the same again."

On the way through the village, the old women again turned out to watch.

"Still in disgrace, that one. All she's fit for is to carry the sunshade. Call that a Fighter! Augusta will murder her. I'm backing Augusta. Hear that you naked whore? Augusta will settle your hash! Long Live Augusta!"

But no refuse was thrown over her this time. Once again there were men who watched the stunning Amazon, with her classically beautiful features and golden hair, with rapt admiration. They prayed for her to win and daydreamed about making love to her. Their money was on Augusta but each one would be happy to lose!

Her body was still a deep rich colour after so much time naked in the sun all day and every day. But the six wounds showed up white against the darkness of her skin. Her thigh muscles rippled with every confident stride and her stomach was flat with ridges of muscle which looked to be invulnerable to even the hardest of Augusta's legendary punches. Gottman had hit her hard in the belly many times and she could withstand all he threw at her. Her arm and shoulder muscles stood out like ropes as she held the sunshade in place, keeping the sun, as ever, from her adored Mistress, whose good opinion was all she desired (except for Frederica's love, of course).Maybe today she would experience some warmth from The Great Lady Fortescue rather than the coldly formal congratulations she had received when she defeated Patti.

Lady Fortescue looked down with satisfaction at the toiling Warrior Slave, whose magnificent body glistened with sweat. She gave those perfect rounded buttocks a playful flick of the whip and laughed good naturedly as Francine kept walking as if nothing had happened. No problems with her today! Augusta would certainly spoil her face and break that fine nose, but Francine was quick and she was brave. She would win albeit after a punishing struggle. But her next fight was in ten days - plenty of time to recover. She'd ask Frederica to ease up on the whipping for a day or two. Maybe, if Francine won ten times in a row, she would have the whippings restricted to twenty strokes - a small fraction of what she was getting these days. Making her faint was taking ever longer and Frederica was getting tired. She couldn't have dear Frederica over exerting herself.

Patti was the problem today. She had just about got the use of her arm back and had recovered from the three days of torture within a week of her release from the dungeon, but she was still not fully fit. If she lost, she'd either sell her or let Francine use her as a human punching bag. Gottman was up against a useless opponent. He'd smash the fellow's skull like an eggshell. Together with prize money and her winnings from backing Francine, she would be out of trouble financially for three months, if only she could rein in her extravagance! Frederica nagged her continually about her lavish spending and her words were beginning to have some effect. What a treasure Frederica was, to be sure. Pity she loved Francine, but she had given her word that the couple would enjoy each other, provided Francine won ten straight victories and she never, but never, went back on her word.

Finally they arrived at the Arena. Gottman's fight was first and as the Lady Fortescue had predicted, he won easily. The carcass of his wretched victim was carted out into the desert to be left for the vultures (or the Roarean equivalent).

Then Patti stepped into the arena to a cacophony of cheers. Patti was popular. She removed her restored Red Thong and was handed a rapier. The girl was still denied any other clothing and would have to walk back naked, wounded or not. She was not looking forward to today but her three days of being tortured for eighteen long weary hours each day had given her quite an incentive not to lose again. Even if she lost, she would not surrender as she had to Francine. She would die on her feet, fighting to the end.

Her opponent was not as tall as Francine, but she looked quick on her feet and anxious to get started. The rules of the fight were announced.

"The winner will be the first to draw blood twelve times, unless she kills her opponent first, of course!"

The Lady Fortescue wanted a fight to the finish. Her idea of driving up the price had been well received and the reduction in the numbers of Fighting Slaves was already having the desired effect. Her next expedition to Earth should be less of a disaster than the last! But she needed Patti to win and she needed it desperately.