Chapter 17

Seven weeks after Francine's third fight and the sudden onset of Winter, Francine, Frederica and the Mistress were at the Slave Camp. Thanks to Francine winning seven contests in a row and Patti and Gottman also doing well, the Mistress had been able to finance another Slave Gathering Mission to Earth. It had been a different locality this time. There was still a problem with landing near Diana's house in the Old Wood. The finest minds were working on it, but no solution had as yet been found. Four naked and shivering women slaves were tied to the Slave Frames, being regularly whipped by Gottman. It was two days now and they were soon to be taken to the tent to be cleaned up and made lovely for the bidders.

Francine had been taken to see them because Lady Fortescue valued her opinion when it came to selecting potential Warrior Slave Material. But Francine was not impressed with any of this bunch. She walked up and down the row of terrified captives, punching them hard in the face, breasts and stomach and kneeing them viciously in the groin. All failed to show the kind of fortitude a Warrior Slave needs. Francine could not conceal her disgust.

"None of them are any use. That tall black girl will make a good Carriage Slave and the rest are pretty enough to make charming House Slaves. They should all sell for a good price. The Mistress's expedition was not a waste of money, but there are none here worthy to fight in my team."

Lady Fortescue agreed. They would make a profit on the expedition but the kind of money making capacity so brilliantly exemplified in Francine was clearly missing in this shower! She would have to wait until the next trip in six months.

Frederica shivered and drew her fur coat around her shoulders. She couldn't wait to get back to the nice warm Palace. Those new girls looked blue with cold. Surely they wouldn't last much longer out here?

"Can't the new Slaves be kept somewhere warmer, My Lady? They will die soon."

"I suppose it has got much colder today. Very well, then. Let them be secured in the tent and let them be warmed."

The new Slaves all looked gratefully at Frederica who had developed a very humanitarian streak these days. Francine was harder and tougher than ever and despised those who were not capable of equalling her own powers of endurance. Except her darling Frederica, of course!

The decline in the numbers of Warrior Slaves was not only due to the likes of Patti and Gottman. Francine had despatched her last two opponents with brutal precision, playing with them before piercing them through the heart. The Lady Fortescue was very pleased with her and Frederica was as proud as ever. It must be said that Francine had not had a choice in the matter. Both her last fights, one with daggers and the other with swords, had been billed as fights to the death. A very lengthy spell in the dungeon would have been Francine's reward if she had shown the slightest mercy. And she wasn't proud of what she had done. In fact her own mind, along with Frederica's was turning in the direction of escape.

The Mistress mounted her horse and Frederica got up behind her. She urged the animal into a trot and the naked Francine, barefoot and red all over in the icy wind, ran beside the horse. The snow had stopped falling a few days ago but was still lying on the ground. The pain in her feet was agonising and she prayed for Spring to come. The heat of Summer when the sweat poured off her in torrents was a lot better than this! But Frederica, not knowing of Francine's distress, glanced admiringly at her tough friend and lover. Patti and Gottman were ill with colds but Francine could take anything!

Because the other two were indisposed and the new Warrior Slaves not yet ready, Francine had been entered for several extra fights. Her next was the next day and would be a man versus woman boxing match. The German girl prayed Francine would not be defeated. Lady Fortescue would show no mercy if she lost, even against a man.

Frederica need not have worried. Francine was to win all three of her next matches and so earn her reward as Frederica's permanent bed mate! She went on to win ten more after that and reached the second anniversary of her abduction as the highest earning Warrior Slave in many years. Not that she saw a penny of her winnings, of course, although her diet was better now she lived with Frederica.

It was not her opponents that Francine needed to fear. She despatched them with increasing ease. There was a ticking time bomb very much nearer home than the Arena.

Seven weeks after her second anniversary as a slave, Francine lay strapped on a table in the dungeon. She was five hours into her eighteen hour day and trying not to cry out. It wasn't just the electricity pulsing though her tortured body every couple of minutes. Red hot irons had been used on her chest and stomach. And she was stretched tight on a rack several times a day until her joints almost popped out of their sockets. Almost, but not quite, as she had once joked to Frederica.

And it was all so unfair. Unfair or not, she had been here a month and could be here for the rest of her life for all she knew. No term had been set as the furious Lady Fortescue ordered her to be sent here to be given a full taste of every horror that could be devised for her. She had stayed silent so far, but her will was cracking. Every day it became harder not to rend the air with the horrible screams that she had heard Tharg and Adèle emitting.

Tharg had long been released and had spent some time as a derelict in the village through which the mighty Francine had walked in naked triumph so many times going to and from the Arena. Currently he worked in the boiler house at the Slave Camp.

It had all started with that chariot race, eighteen months ago. The chariot driver had flicked her with a crop and she had sworn at him. The man had not been offended. Indeed, he had been amused and Francine had gone on to win, so what the Hell?

One day in the village tavern the conversation had got around to Francine, as it so often did. She was famous and highly popular these days. Various people had Francine stories to tell and he dragged this incident out of his subconscious. All laughed as he related this example of the girl's spirit. It was agreed he had been a lucky man to be so close to her. Most red blooded men around here would give anything for just one night with Francine!

But one listener did not like Warrior Slave Francine. He was the owner of the male boxer whom she had knocked cold last year within seconds of the fight starting. He saw a chance to get even.Later that day he went to see the Lady Fortescue.

Francine was preparing to go to the Arena when she was told to present herself before the Mistress. The chariot driver was there and the informant - a minor slave owner whose so-called champion Francine recalled contemptuously knocking senseless during her first winter here.

This man related what the chariot driver has said in the tavern.

"Is this true, Morgan>"

"Yes, but she meant no har..."

"Never mind your opinions! Stick to the facts. Did she call you what this man alleges?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Very well, Morgan you may go. Frederica bring Gottman and four guards. Tell them Francine is to be put in the dungeon. Her torture starts at once. No Slave may address their betters in such a way. Not even Warrior Slave Francine."

Poor Francine was not even addressed by the Mistress. She was ignored and made to stand rigidly to attention while her future was decided. She was a Slave, albeit a highly popular Warrior Slave who was almost revered these days. She had no right to defend herself. In any case, the charge was true. She had long known at the back of her mind that she would pay one day for her insolence. Now, the day had come! But it had never in her wildest imagining occurred to her that her punishment would be as dreadful as this!

Soon Gottman arrived and ordered Francine to stand feet apart. He then kicked her hard in the crotch and she folded in a heap, in agony. And she knew this was just a little foretaste of the horrors to come. As they dragged her off she managed to say "I'm sorry, Master!" to the chariot driver, who was still hanging around outside the makeshift court. Then she was gone deep underground to be punished for she knew not how many long weeks, months or even years. In minutes she had been strapped to the table and the electrodes had been attached. Her back arched with the pain and sweat started to pour off her. They tortured her all the rest of the day and all night for three horrible days. Finally she was allowed six hours sleep before the agony resumed.

At last the loathsome Gottman had her permanently at his mercy and he was loving it! Francine had long ago surpassed him as the crowd's favourite and her unbeaten record shamed him now that he had been twice narrowly beaten and punished for it by the Mistress. Francine had been sympathetic but he hated her nonetheless.

A few days later the informant was attacked by villagers and forced to flee for his life. But this was no help to poor subterranean Francine who continued to endure the most hideous pain. Frederica knew it was useless to intercede on her lover's behalf. Even the merest hint might make her condition worse, as had happened last time they had thrown her in the dungeon. The Lady Fortescue's rage must be given time to die down and Frederica, sickened at the thought of what she knew to be going on down below, nevertheless deliberately avoided all mention of the imprisoned Warrior Slave.