Chapter 9

Every so often the roar of the crowd would subside and silence reign. It was a silence punctuated by the sound of blows and of bodies hitting the ground and of groans as strong men exchanged grievously powerful blows. Francine pedalled unceasingly, determined to give the lady Fortescue all the cooling draughts she needed in the growing heat of a ferocious day. Her own mouth was dry, her tongue swollen and her limbs ached as she had never known them to before, but she kept up her tremendous efforts. She was no more than a machine - a lowly Slave Girl - and must work until she dropped.

Francine guessed that Tharg was being slowly and pitilessly destroyed by his fearsome opponent Gottman. Where Tharg was just a narcissistic poser, Gottman was a hard and ruthless fighter who had seen off opponents far stronger than poor Tharg many, many times. She rightly guessed that Gottman had no personal animosity towards his latest victim. Tharg was just another job to be done with thoroughness and skill.

She remembered how she had once admired Tharg and desired to be ravished by him. And then the endless painful beatings had slowly sapped her admiration and replaced it with cold hatred. She exulted as she heard her tormentor being turned into a human vegetable, never again able to raise his mighty arms as he wielded the Slave Whip on the cowering female Slaves in his charge.

But Tharg had only been obeying orders. It had been his duty to turn the proud Francine into a submissive Slave, craving for more pain and more humiliation. And he had done his job well. For Francine DID want pain and she DID want to be ever more comprehensively humbled. Tharg had beaten it into her. It was a measure of how far Francine had still to travel along the road that led to total submission to the Mighty Lady Fortescue that she could glory in his destruction. She forced herself to even greater efforts and caused her poor muscles even greater agony.

Finally Frederica came to tell her that she might cease her labours for now. She handed her a flask of cool water from which she drank eagerly, draining it completely. She still felt thirsty, though!

"Come, darling Francine! We must see to the poor Tharg. He's still alive, but only just!"

"How awful!" said a concerned Francine.

"Bollocks, Francine my sweet pet! He asked for it. I should have thought you, who suffered more than any of us, would have no tears for him. And he may have all the equipment to be a man, but that's as far as it goes. He's bent as a dog's hind leg - queer as a three dollar bill! And today he came up against a REAL man and got slaughtered. And the Lady Fortescue has put in a successful bid for Gottman. In future we'll be getting our beatings from him. But at least there's the chance of a good shag once in a while if we please him!"

"What will happen to Tharg?"

"Who knows? Who fucking cares!"

With Frederica's arm around her sweaty naked waist Francine was led to the cart that had brought them here. Gottman came out of the arena with a limp and bloody Tharg over his shoulder. There did not seem to be a part of Tharg's body that was unbruised, uncut or in any way undamaged and his face was unrecognisable. Gottman's fists must have crashed into those once handsome features a thousand times to produce such a sickening amount of injury. He threw the unconscious Tharg with brutal unconcern into the back of the cart. The defeated Slave hit the floor of the cart with an impact that caused it to shake.

"I am to tend him and Olga" said Frederica. "You must walk home with the Great and Mighty Lady Fortescue. Be strong my darling girl!"

"Tend Olga?" Francine was surprised to hear that Olga should need tending. She deliberately did not respond to Frederica's repeated endearments.

"Oh, Yes! Olga was made to fight a female Slave. She did well, but was hurt a lot. The Lady Fortescue was pleased with her. Soon you will fight, my darling girl! I will be cheering you on. You won't let me down, will you, sweet Francine?"

Sweet Francine once more ignored Frederica's amorous approaches. Not that Frederica wasn't pretty. In fact she was more than pretty. She was adorable. But Francine still remembered Diana, whom she had always worshipped - if in secret. And her worship of Diana had never been physical, just admiration for a woman who had never succumbed to Francine's control freakery!

And then a battered Olga came out, carrying her even more battered opponent, whom Francine recognised to be none other than Katya, over her shoulder. Olga tossed Katya into the back of the wagon. Like Tharg, Katya hit the floor with a nasty thud which couldn't have done much good to an already shattered body. What a hard place this planet was, to be sure!

The three Slaves had a few moments to chat together before Lady Fortescue and her Guards arrived. Gottman had got into the wagon with Tharg. A low moan indicated that Tharg had begun to recover. A gristly thud indicated that Tharg was once more unconscious! He was to see and feel a lot more of Gottman's fists in the days ahead.

The Lady Fortescue's rage would take many months to go away and Tharg would be punished for his defeat for many long weeks to come. Finally he was to be cast out into the world to seek whatever living he could, a broken shambling wreck. It was only when the Lady Fortescue recalled Diana's sweetness and kindness to the unfortunate that Lady Fortescue took pity and brought him back to be a menial servant in the underground boiler house.

"How did you fight, Olga?" asked Francine. She was curious to know, since she would be doing the same in due course.

"We wore leather straps around our hands, Francine and boxed. I used to train in a sort of fashion on Earth. Just exercises, though - no opponent! But I learnt the moves and poor Katya hadn't a clue! She got in a few shots, though and I guessed the crowd wanted a good contest so I let her get in a few more to make it look good, but she never had a chance. She did hurt me though. So I threw her into the wagon as hard as I could. I like this life, Francine. You'll be SO good in the arena! So tall and so tough. She's great, isn't she Frederica?"