Chapter 18

Tortured and disgraced Former Warrior Slave Francine writhed on the table in the dungeon. She still had enough of her dignity and courage left not to cry out. She would never give them the satisfaction of hearing her scream for mercy. Only another hour and the pain would stop and she would be fed and allowed to sleep. Eighteen hours pain and six hours sleep. This was the thirteenth week of this routine and she still kept her sanity, still kept count of time and still hoped one day to redeem herself. For she knew she had nobody but herself to blame for being here.

She relived the events that had brought her back to this place of torment.

After being released from her last spell down here she had found a newly friendly Lady Fortescue. At last her Owner had forgiven her for kicking her. Amazing as it might seem, that cat had been none other than her Mistress! Francine had never asked The Lady Fortescue if this were so, but it must be. How else could she have known of Francine's lunge at the animal? And on this Planet, even a threatening gesture was enough to get one horribly punished. On the whole she had got off quite lightly!

Francine had returned to the cellar and been chained in filth once again. Her floggings with the Slave Whip had been resumed in all their previous ferocity and her diet had reverted to the basic and rather unpleasant fare enjoyed (if that is the right word) by the other Slaves. This had been her wish and despite missing Frederica's caresses she was happy - for a time.

Her first match, a boxing contest against an up and coming recent captive from Africa, had been tough and gruelling. For the first few rounds, Francine had been on the defensive and had only started to wear down the other woman after ten rounds. It was promising to be a repeat performance of that memorable first appearance eighteen months ago. But sheer courage and speed started to tell on the other woman who began to fade after round fifteen. The blow with which Francine finally felled her was perfectly executed and delivered with terrible force. The girl did not get up, being dragged out of the arena after thirty minutes in which she lay motionless where Francine's blow had put her. She never fought again.

Francine had returned to her Arena in style. But she knew she should have done better, despite lady Fortescue's rapturous praise. She refused her Mistress's offer to cancel her daily whipping, knowing that without the ferocious discipline that her owner had imposed, she must now discipline herself.

Frederica had to take her share of the blame, reflected the tortured Slave. She had missed Francine and looked forward to the weekends, entreating her to stay a while longer. Francine still loved the sweet German as madly as ever but she knew that she must somehow break away from her embraces if she were to stay fit and deadly. But gradually Frederica had won the Warrior Slave over.

The Lady Fortescue pitied Frederica for being alone and away from her love. She allowed Francine's visits to Frederica to become more and more frequent until things were exactly as they had been before that month in the dungeon. Even the nightly whippings were greatly reduced. Frederica couldn't stand her lover having such a sore and red back. Francine was getting soft again.

I say 'soft again' because even before her last spell of torture she had been losing some of that muscle tone. Her stomach was still ridged with hard muscles, but the definition was going. She was developing a layer of fat and in her trade she could afford to carry no surplus fat - not a tenth of an ounce.

"If I ever do get out of here, I'll train hard every day. I'll not go to seed again. If I get out." she said quietly to herself. Then the next pulse of electricity tore through her body and she clamped her mouth shut. She would never cry out. Never!

The power ebbed again, but it would soon be back. Meanwhile she had a minute to think before pain returned to make all thought impossible. She would respect her betters also. Familiarity was not good for a Slave, even this Warrior Slave - Former Warrior Slave. But she would regain her status by hard work, obedience and subjection to hard discipline.

Then another jolt of power and she passed out.

She came round in seconds and resumed her recapitulation of the events that had led to her ruin.

Being taken by Frederica to the tavern had seemed a great idea at the time. Normally a naked Slave, or any other sort of Slave, would have been thrown out on her ear, but Francine was no ordinary naked slave, she was a legend! She basked in the praises of the young men who crowded around her, anxious to get a glimpse, a smell and maybe even a touch of this wonderful girl. One of them really took Francine's fancy. He was tall, taller by an inch than she and broad and athletic. Gradually her preference for his company became obvious and the others drifted away. Frederica scowled!

"Warrior Slave Francine! It is time to go!" snapped Frederica. Her patience had totally gone. That boy was all over her lover and Francine was lapping it up. He had fondled her tits, stuck his hand in her crack and was kissing her as if there were no tomorrow and the tavern owner was allowing it! Francine had torn the shirt off him and was slobbering all over that hairy and extremely manly chest! She was out of her mind with lust and it was only a matter of time before he took her home to fuck the arse off her. This must stop - and now!

"Sorry, Frederica!" said a repentant Francine as they walked back to the Palace.

But Frederica knew Francine was anything but sorry. You had only to look at her face to see that!

So Frederica took quite a bit of winning round and all Francine's wiles were needed before the love affair returned to its tender normality. And Frederica was never to forget. She had fancied that boy herself.

There had been other visits to the Tavern and both girls had been taken home and made love to, Frederica by the tavern owner's handsome son and Francine by the tall young man. The Lady Fortescue had heard of it and advised Frederica not to take Francine with her again. The Mistress was terrified that Francine might become pregnant and there were some anxious days before her next period!

Francine won six more fights and all seemed fine with her career. But Gottman knew the best Warrior Slave was not keeping up her fitness. Angered at being superseded as the Mistress's favourite Slave, he did not warn her. Patti, too remembered her humiliation at Francine's hands. She also watched her rival's growing slackness with glee. All it would take would be a good opponent, young and eager to make her mark against the Woman Champion Warrior Slave and Francine would be on the skids - big time!

Her downfall was caused by Lucretia, the black slave she had contemptuously rejected nearly two years ago at the Slave Camp one cold winter's day when she had been in agony with her bare feet in the freezing snow and had, perhaps, not taken account of Lucretia's potential.

Someone had noticed her potential and Lucretia was another woman compared to that cowering frightened and half frozen captive. As Francine stepped confidently and even swaggering into the arena she half recognised Lucretia.

"Haven't we met somewhere?" she asked as the soon to be combatants waited for the order to start fighting.

"Yes, you white trash! You punched my gut and kneed my cunt. Now I'm going to kill you, sister. You're dead meat!"

"I'm pleased I was wrong about you. You look magnificent and I congratulate you! A warrior Slave is a privileged person. But you don't get to win against me! No chance!"

But Francine soon realised she had a more than ordinarily strong opponent today, as she picked herself up from the floor after a count of eleven. She had never been knocked down before. But another blow that like and she would be knocked out cold!

She was careful after that and tried to keep clear of trouble to allow her head to clear. But the myth of the invincible Francine had been destroyed in a second.

For ten rounds Francine was knocked around the arena, staying on her feet but failing to control her opponent. Lucretia would surely end Francine's reign before long!

It was not be. Not quite! Francine applied herself to the job in hand, concentrating hard and spotting Lucretia's weaknesses and with her vast experience, turning the fight round. Finally she stood on Lucretia's stomach and the crowd cheered. But the cheers were not as ecstatic as they had been. Francine was on the way out. That was painfully clear. Next time she fought Lucretia, she would most likely lose and lose badly.

Even the now friendly Lady Fortescue was angry with her and Frederica's eyes blazed with fury as Francine reported back to her Mistress.

"You will be flogged for this, Warrior Slave Francine. Look at yourself. That stomach is a disgrace and those thighs are worse! You're going to fat, woman! I've been too lax with you. You'll never win another fight here. Not at the speed you're going downhill! Frederica! What shall we do with her?"

"Give her a flogging she'll never forget, My Lady. I want that back raw and weeping when they finish with her. Then, if My Lady agrees, I will decide in the morning what more needs to be done to punish her. And she is no longer a Warrior Slave. She has disgraced us all today."

Francine's hands were tied in front of her and she was secured behind Lady Fortescue's horse. When the villagers saw her being thus led back to the Palace they were not surprised. Her lavish lifestyle and ever growing love of luxury had made this inevitable. But her young man wept as he saw her. For the last hundred yards The Horse was urged into a gallop and Francine was ignominiously and very painfully dragged the rest of the way on her belly.

In the morning after a sleepless night because of her sore back and front, she came up before Frederica who was now The Lady Fortescue's virtual deputy.

"Former Warrior Slave Francine is to be taken to the dungeon and tortured. She will be there for an indefinite period. It will be interesting to see how long it takes to break her down and have her screaming for mercy. But she will get no mercy from The Great Lady Fortescue. Take it way and bury it!"

Being referred to as a thing by darling Frederica. The memory still hurt her far more than any electric shock, hot iron, thumbscrew or rack. She almost sobbed at the thought that she had lost her darling Frederica's love. Almost, but not quite.

When Frederica had said that about how interesting it would be to see how long it would be before she broke, Francine knew that she would be here for longer than last time. For after the month she had served for insolence to the chariot driver she had been on the verge of breaking before they let her go.