The Slave Contract Ch 02 1

Eventually, I was returned to Carolyn.

During my absence, Carolyn had located the wrestling coach. The coach was named Nikol. She was my height and had an athletic look about her, with broad shoulders, strong hands and impressive muscle tone. And she was wearing tights, while I was naked, except for my slave collar.

"Another lesbian," Nikol commented as she grabbed my slave collar and pulled me forward, bringing us dangerously close together.

The slave collars were distinct colors depending on a slave's sexual orientation. Straight slaves were given white collars. Bisexual slaves were given gray slave collars and gay slaves like me were given black slave collars. Nikol knew that I was a lesbian the moment she saw me because of the collar secured around my throat.

"There are approximately one hundred female slaves registered for wrestling in this city, and there isn't a straight girl in the mix anywhere. Why do you suppose that is?"

As she asked the question, Nikol ran her hands up and down my body, feeling the firmness of my calves, my thighs, my glutes and my abdomen. It felt weird to be felt up this way. It wasn't sexual or erotic. It was more like evaluating the muscle tone of a racing horse before you bought it from a horse trader.

"I um, suppose that straight women would find it awkward to get groped by another woman, mistress," I said hesitantly. "I mean, wrestling involves a lot of grappling and grabbing your opponent, um, by the legs or the..."

Suddenly, Nikol clamped one hand over my mouth. She gave me a sharp look.

"It was a rhetorical question, slave girl," she snapped. "I already have an excellent idea why straight women don't want to roll around naked on the wrestling mat with other women!"

After I was silenced, Nikol went back to examining my naked body. She complimented me on the impressive firmness of my glutes, and just as I felt she was starting to like me, she asked me about my previous wrestling experience.

"I don't have any, Mistress."

My voice was tremulous. I had been whipped with a riding crop earlier that day and the more she grabbed and squeezed my sore buttock, the more she renewed the pain of that whipping.

"Another novice!" Nikol exclaimed loudly. "I've got nine wrestlers on my team, and Brooke is the only one with any wrestling experience, and she hasn't wrestled since high school! What did I ever do to deserve this?"

I wisely bit my tongue and remained silent. I rightly assumed this was another one of those rhetorical questions.

"So, the American team has no chance?" Carolyn asked.

Nikol pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger and took a few moments to get ahold of herself before answering.

"Not necessarily," she replied. "I was talking to the wrestling coach for the Norwegian team. She says her wrestlers are also woefully inexperienced. She thinks it might be the same for the British and the Ukrainians and everybody else."

"Okay, so amateurs vs. amateurs, that shouldn't be so bad, right?"

Nikol remained unconvinced. Apparently, she took wrestling seriously, and she felt that sending a bunch of inexperienced girls out onto the wrestling mat to grapple with each other cheapened the sport.

"I think that slave contracts are traditionally approved due to the applicant's good looks and sex appeal," Carolyn commented. "I don't think they usually ask about athletic ability."

"This whole thing is a farce," my wrestling coach replied. "I'll try and whip these women into shape, but none of them are going to put in an impressive performance. They ought to take the name 'Olympics' off this thing."

Carolyn and Nikol discussed the situation involving me and the other slaves that would be competing. They came to the conclusion that the attendees would be more interested in seeing the losing slaves get punished than celebrating the athletic skill of the winners.

* * *

Later that day, I was taken into a room and introduced to the other slaves on the American wrestling team. I had already met Brooke, but then I was introduced to all the others.

It was a heady experience. All these women were young, naked, and had bewitching bodies that would tempt a nun into violating her vows of chastity. Any one of them would have been enough to cause my sex to throb, but to be surrounded by seven or eight, or nine naked women of such beauty and raw, unbridled sex appeal had a cumulative effect on my libido. A wave of desire passed through me, and my nipples became embarrassingly hard in their presence.

Every single one of them was exquisite, with slender waists, taut, sculpted abs, long legs and vulvas that had been meticulously waxed or shaved, leaving every woman's plump, glistening pubic lips deliciously exposed.

There was Emma, Olivia, Scarlett, um, okay, I never learned all their names. I spent so much time mesmerized by their bodies and struggling to function while being swept away by a never-ending tidal wave of libidinous desire, I had trouble focusing on mundane details like names.

And while the never-ending display of exquisite female bodies was a potent distraction, the training sessions on the mat had a way of getting me intensely focused.

On the mat, those beautiful bodies became opponents who could grab and squeeze and hold and painfully twist your arm behind your back and slam you face down into the floor and make you helpless. I needed to focus less on their seductive beauty and more on how to defend against their physical attacks.

For example, one of the first slaves I sparred against was Brooke.

The fact that she was naked meant that the aesthetic curves of her remarkable body were sublimely on display. So, of course, I was admiring the delightful interplay of her boobs between her arms as she crawled across the wrestling mats towards me.

I probably should have been paying more attention to those arms, and her strong hands. Within seconds of reaching me, she grabbed me around the waist and flipped me over on my back.

I raised my shoulder off the mat, arching my back. With a frantic push, I rolled over backwards and away from Brooke, but she set upon me quickly.

She was quick and agile, grabbing at my waist, my legs, my arms, my pussy, just about anywhere. If she could grab any handful of me and use that grip to control the rest of my body, she grabbed for me there. I found myself immediately on the defensive. I rolled and dodged and squirmed away from her, and tried to find an opening where I could grab her instead, but she moved so fast, and if I managed to grab onto her wrist or her torso, she easily broke my grip. She was strong, merciless and determined.

"Oooooh!"

At one point, she grabbed me around the waist, picked me up and threw me back down. I just barely managed to throw my arm in front of me, protecting my boobs from painfully slamming into the mat, but while I was face down, Brooke shot her arm underneath my armpit and snaked it around me. Then I felt her hand clamping firmly across the back of my head.

She got me in a half nelson, immobilizing my upper body and forcing me to arch my back and thrust my boobs out. I gasped and struggled and tried to get free. My struggles accomplished little more than exhausting me. I began to sweat, and my shoulder got sore from all the pressure exerted on it. Then she grabbed both of my arms and squeezed them painfully together. With her superior strength and leverage, she painfully trapped both of my arms. Then using her free arm, she reached around and grabbed one of my protruding breasts.

"Aaahhh! Stop that! Mistress Nikol!"

"Brooke, keep doing what you're doing," Nikol instructed my opponent. Then, to me she said, "Diane, the rules in slave wrestling allow for breast fondling. I advise you to get used to it."

Clearly the rules for slave wrestling were different from the rules for high school or college wrestling, or any type of wrestling I'd even seen.

In slave wrestling, grabbing your opponent's boobs or smacking her on the buttocks was not only allowed, but encouraged. You earned points for that sort of thing. Forcibly kissing your opponent on the mouth or neck after you had her pinned also earned you points.

"Once your opponent is immobilized or pinned, do whatever you can to humiliate them. The judges award points for that, so finger their pussies, fondle their breasts, kiss them on the mouth, spank their butt; all of these things earn you points, and those points can mean the difference between victory and defeat."

Even though the other women had little to no wrestling experience, they all seemed to have superior instincts when it came to grappling, holding, and pinning your opponent to the wrestling mat. And Nikol encouraged my fellow slaves to humiliate me at length whenever the opportunity presented itself.

For a while there, I was humiliated by all the other slaves. And Nikol made my situation even worse by rewarding my tormentors. If one of them did especially well in a wrestling bout, I was ordered to reward them by getting on my knees and licking my opponent to orgasm while all the other slaves gathered around and watched.

Nikol felt that such public displays were motivational.

"If you pay attention and practice hard, Diane," she would say, "perhaps one day, you'll be the one getting pleasured by one of your fellow slaves."

With endless hours of coaching and practice matches against my teammates, I slowly got better. I learned wrestling holds and how to use leverage to force my opponent to the mat and keep her there. My levels of self-confidence went up, and I did win a few bouts against my fellow wrestlers.

After three weeks of exhaustive training, I felt like I was finally prepared to face an opponent from one of the other wrestling teams.

My first bout was against an Icelandic slave named Arna. I put my newly acquired skills to use and not only defeated her, but in the third round I pinned her face down to the mat and spanked her shapely ass until she was squirming, and her poor bottom was covered in stinging, red handprints.

Perhaps, I became overconfident after that. My second public bout was against a Greek slave named Voula. It did not go well for me.

Voula was even stronger and more skilled than Brooke. When I grabbed her, it turned out I couldn't slam her into the mat or flip her over or anything. She had a strong back, strong arms and toned abs that made her remarkably resistant to being moved if she didn't want to be moved. She and I were about the same size, but she packed far more strength into her slender frame than I had in mine.

She grabbed me around the waist and threw me down on the mat. I landed so forcefully I was temporarily stunned, and was momentarily face down on the mat, looking helpless and defeated.

I raised myself up to my hands and knees as quickly as I could, but Voula quickly got on top of me, passed one arm under my armpit and placed her hand on the back of my head. Alarmingly, I realized that she had just put me in a half nelson. I squirmed and struggled to get free. I pushed backwards with my entire body, trying to throw her off, but she had a grip like an iron vice. Then to make matters worse, she wrapped a leg around one of my legs.

The way she had trapped my leg with hers was known as a grapevine. I've been taught that it can be used to make your opponent vulnerable to being thrown to the mat. Of course, since we were both already lying on the mat, that's not what Voula was planning to do to me.

Moving with catlike speed, she wrapped her other leg around my other leg. Then she spread her legs wide, forcing my legs far apart as well. I struggled to close my legs together, but it was an impossible task. She was just too strong, and no matter how I tried, she held my legs helplessly apart. I panted, grunted and strained my inner thigh muscles to their utmost, but all I managed to do was wear myself out and work up a sweat.

"Oooooh! Aaahhh! Ugh!"

When my leg muscles were sore from struggling against her, I went slack and gave up. I couldn't force my way out and I didn't have any brilliant plans to get her to loosen her grip. I whimpered as I was forced to acknowledge my helplessness and vulnerability, and then Voula grabbed one of my boobs.

She only needed one arm to keep me in a half nelson. That meant she had one hand free that she could use to score humiliation points.

"Ohhhhhh!"

I gasped as she kneaded my breast and brushed her thumb up and down across my nipple. It rapidly became stiff and erect, and my breathing became heavy. A crowd of spectators watched as Voula held my legs achingly wide apart, and with one of my arms incapacitated. I squirmed helplessly until she withdrew her hand from my breast.

I let out a loud sigh of relief and felt some of the tension go out of me after she stopped fondling my boobs, but then she reached between my widespread legs and placed her hand on my exposed pubic lips.

"Voula!"

I shouted indignantly. She stroked her fingertips up and down my swollen labia. I shuddered and struggled against her grip. Then I gasped when she began to stroke her fingers skillfully across my clit. She eased them downward and curved them in and I felt a finger probing at the entrance to my sex.

I gasped and struggled once again to close my thighs together. Voula and I were the same size, but she'd used her superior strength and skill to put me totally and completely at her mercy. Naked and spread wide open, she had total control over me.

The judges awarded humiliation points and I groaned. She kept fingering me and rubbing my swollen clit until the referee declared that the round was over.

After that, I couldn't concentrate. My sex throbbed with hungry spasms and my nipples were so hard they ached. At the beginning of the second round, Voula grabbed me by the ankle, pulled me across the mat and pinned me almost immediately. The soft, wet pulse in my sex interfered with my ability to think and my stronger, more skilled opponent had her way with me, pinning me to the mat, posing me, spanking me, and it seemed there was nothing I could do to stop her.

Nikol was disappointed with me. And even though my ass was already sore, she brought me out into the arena area later that day to punish me for my inferior performance.

"You looked like you weren't even

trying

out there," Nikol said as I climbed across her lap. "If you continue to disappoint me like you did today, you can expect to go over my knee after every bout for the whole world to see you ass get reddened."

The entire world wasn't watching, but it seemed like it. My teammates were watching, there were at least two hundred spectators in the bleachers, and there were members of the European media with camcorders and professional lighting. It was likely they were going to film my spanking and broadcast it all over Europe.

"Keep your hands down on the floor and keep your back arched," Nikol told me. "If you use your hands to protect your bottom, you'll be bound, and I'll add extra swats to your punishment."

With hundreds of clothed spectators and at least two-dozen naked slaves watching, Nikol's hand came down on my poor bottom and I involuntarily gasped in pain.

She had a strong right arm, and her spanks were relentless. The blows from her hand were loud and crisp and they stung my already sore bottom so intensely that I began to squirm with the fifth or sixth blow. Soon tears welled up in my eyes and I was writhing in pain across Nikol's lap.

"Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Aaahhh!!"

I was so engrossed with the agony of my scalding bottom I temporarily forgot about the vast number of people watching me. I twisted, turned and bounced across Nikol's lap, kicking my legs helplessly, while hot, wet tears dripped down my face. The people who were watching got quite a show.

When it was finally over, I was a sobbing, trembling mess. My ass felt as if I'd sat on a hot stove and my face was soaking wet from the tears I had shed.

Nikol told me I could get up from her lap. My bottom was a scalding riot of pain as I rose on shaky legs and wiped tears away from my eyes. My vision was blurry with tears, but I still managed to see Mistress Carolyn and Nikol speaking with two members of the European media.

After the four of them finished speaking, Mistress Carolyn closed the distance between us and said, "Diane, this gentleman with Channel Six believes it would be good public relations if we allowed you to cry on the shoulder of one of your fellow teammates."

All of my fellow slaves were standing nearby, and Carolyn told me to pick one of them. I was in so much pain, I could barely think. I chose Olivia almost at random, and then she stepped forward and took me in her arms.

I ended up pressing my naked body against Olivia's and resting the side of my face on her bare shoulder. I tried not to make a great deal of noise as Olivia held me close and I continued to shudder and sob. Of course, it was unbearably intimate pressing my naked body against the naked body of another slave girl, and many people were watching as my breasts touched hers, but I tried not to be too embarrassed about that.

I liked the feel of her body against mine, and Olivia's arms were firm yet gentle and comforting as they wrapped around me.

Her bare thighs pressed against my thighs; her bare breasts casually brushed against my breasts. Her skin was soft and smooth and hot, and I could feel a great deal of warmth radiating from her naked body. Olivia Dawn wrapped an arm lovingly around my waist, and I felt a powerful desire to raise my head up and kiss her passionately, but I couldn't do that unless Mistress Carolyn gave me the order. I couldn't do anything without my mistress's permission.

* * *

Later that night, I was bound spread-eagle to my bed and Olivia was bound spread-eagle on top of me. Without Mistress Carolyn or Nikol there to supervise we were able to engage in unbridled, passionate kissing, but it was awkward and frustrating.

We spent all night long with our naked bodies pressed against each other. I could feel her heat, feel the softness of her skin, and I wanted to do more than just kiss, but of course, I couldn't because of the wrist and ankle restraints.

Eventually, Olivia and I fell into a fitful sleep. My dreams were filled with delectable naked bodies, alluring lips, seductive smiles, hands groping me, tongues licking at me, and fingers probing the moist interior of my sex, but somehow, my wet dreams all ended in disappointed moans and sexual frustration.

* * *

The next day I learned the meaning of the word

schadenfreude.

You see, schadenfreude is a German word, meaning pleasure derived by someone from another person's misfortune. The word came into play when I saw Voula defeated and publicly humiliated by a German slave named Anja.

Anja was a German slave with a cute, girlish face and a sleek graceful body. She was limber, supple and bouncy with energy. She seemed adorable at first glance, and when I saw her enter the arena to compete against Voula, I thought for certain that Voula would humiliate her the way that she had humiliated me.

The thing is, just because Anja looked all adorable, and innocent didn't mean that she was a pushover. She was an unstoppable threat once she got on the wrestling mat.

I knew from personal experience that Voula was strong, but her attempts to force Anja's shoulders down onto the mat were consistently unsuccessful. Voula got on top of her opponent and struggled to force Anja's shoulders down. I could see the muscles in her arms straining as she pushed and pushed, but Anja continued to resist.

Then Anja arched her back and pushed Voula away with her legs. Voula pushed forward while Anja pushed back. Both women were strong, but eventually Anja succeeded in pushing Voula off her.