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Slave's Honour (Sean O'Kane)


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    • Average 3.3 from 3 ratings

Typically vivid and inventive. Sean ranges across the landscapes of his invention and takes us from the heart of the English countryside to the Middle East. And all the way there are delicious slaves suffering and racing and fighting for their masters. The detail as always is engrossing and Brian starts to come into his own as a fully fledged slave trainer. Many brilliant set pieces, like the summer party at The Lodge, where the CSL slaves are breast suspended....

This is the fourth book in the Arena series.

Product type: EBook    Published by: Fiction4All    Published: 12 / 2011

No. words: 72000

Style: Male Dom - M/F, Sado-Masochism (SM)

Available Formats: Palm  MobiPocket (MOBI)  EPUB  Sony Reader (LRF)  PDF  MS Reader  This book has a format which can be downloaded to Kindle

Click Here For All Books In This Series



The rain cascaded down, pouring from a leaden English sky to puddle in between the cobblestones of the stableyard of The Lodge - England’s most discreet, expensive and exclusive SM club. It plastered the ponygirl’s hair to her head and made her skin shine in the weak light. Carlo Suarez swung the driving whip across her back one last time, sending a fine spray arcing out from the lash and raising another as it impacted on the wet flesh. Her steel shod sandals clattered and splashed and she slipped a little on the wet stone as she trotted into the yard. Carlo hauled back gently on the reins and brought her to a stop outside one of the stable doors. He climbed down and flicked her across her buttocks with the reins for shaking her head to clear her eyes of rain-soaked hair. Her only duty was to stand motionless as her driver alighted. One of the grooms came running out of the tack room and hurriedly began unhitching the pony. She squealed as he slid his cold, wet hand up the back of her short skirt and helped himself to a handful of warm, soft buttock. But she didn’t stop her work and was able to lead the pony into the comparative warmth of a stall and tether her, clipping her wrists together tidily behind her back, before rushing back out and dragging the trap over to a shelter. Then she scuttled back to the stall where Carlo was busily drying his hair while the pony dripped rain into the growing pool around her feet.
The only good thing you could say about the English climate was that it was nice to get out of it, he thought sourly. A pleasant training run with a new girl in The Lodge’s magnificent parklands had turned into a wet dash for home with no warning at all.
The groom began to towel the pony briskly, making her delightful breasts jiggle as they were dried.
“Make sure you put a blanket on her before you put her away,” he told the groom.
“Of course, Sir. How did she run?”
Carlo realised that the pony’s weren’t the only breasts that the activity was showing off to good effect. The grooms at The Lodge all wore thin blouses knotted below the breasts and very short skirts. It was a uniform designed by the head groom herself to give maximum freedom of movement for the girl in order for her to perform her duties, coupled with maximum availability, should any of the guests or male staff require it.
“Not bad for a new girl. She needs more wind though, had to use a lot of whip coming back up from the lake.” The groom was drying the striped buttocks as he talked. Suddenly he felt he needed warming up too.
“Bend her forwards,” he ordered. The groom smiled at him, unhitched the reins and pulled them down, forcing the bridled pony to bend forwards. Her shoes clattered again as she spread her legs. Carlo glanced down at the soft purse of the revealed sex which promised much needed relief and warmth. New girl she might be, but it wasn’t rain causing the dampness there. He unzipped his trousers, freed his erect cock and positioned himself before sinking smoothly into the pony’s hot and viscid depths, her vaginal walls stroking him softly along his full length. The groom went back to drying her, kneeling down to rub at the legs and thighs, she glanced up at Carlo and he nodded. She reached between the pony’s legs, delved into Carlo’s trousers and began to cup and fondle his scrotum. The pony began to swing and swivel her hips and Carlo sighed in pleasure as he made no attempt to fight the pressure which built at the base of his cock. He pumped hard while the groom milked him skilfully. The pony gave a soft whimper of disappointment as she felt him spend long before her own pleasure had built. Carlo frowned as he pulled out of her and tucked himself away.
“Put her down for a beating tomorrow morning,” he told the groom, jerking his head at the blackboard mounted on the end wall, it was a grid with the names of the ponies currently stabled down one side and, running across the board notes on diet, exercise and punishment. The girl might be newly purchased but she had to learn that any pleasure she might take from the use made of her was entirely beside the point. The pleasure of the Master was paramount.
Hurried footsteps sounded outside in the yard and another groom appeared, Carlo noticed the rain had slackened off to a half-hearted drizzle as he approached the door.
“There’s someone at the gatehouse for you, Sir,” the girl told him.
He glanced at his watch; ten a.m. right on the nose. Good, the lad was punctual.
He shrugged off his shirt as he headed for his office and a change of clothes. “Get Jet harnessed up for me,” he called back.

Chapter 1

Brian Holden waited nervously, pacing from one side of the drive to the other. He was aware of the gatekeeper giving him amused glances from the living room of the small gatehouse but he couldn’t have cared less. Today was probably the most important day of his life. In the year since he had discovered the delights of SM it had come to dominate his every moment and the culmination had come when he had resigned from his job, spent nearly his last penny on a trip to the tiny principality of Bakhtar to witness a show at the arena there and try to meet the legendary trainer Carlo Suarez to ask for a post as his apprentice. Today was his chance to secure the position.
He had been told to wait a little way up the drive after his cab had dropped him outside the imposing gates, just where it took a sharp left hand bend and became hidden from the road. Tall lime trees, dripping from the recent downpour, marched along on either side of the tarmac which took a sharp right hand bend about a hundred yards further on. Beyond, on one side were open fields, on the other a golf course. He wheeled around from his contemplation of the view when he heard a soft ‘clip clop’ noise and a gentle rumbling coming from somewhere along the drive. He smiled in delight as he saw, rounding the next bend a ponygirl pulling a trap and heading towards him. Carlo Suarez himself was at the reins. The pony was a tall and athletic looking black girl, running with an easy trot, her legs lifting gracefully, her full breasts trembling and swaying.
Brian picked up his overnight bag as the rig approached, watching as occasionally the cord of the driving whip almost lazily curved in the air over her back and hissed across her. Nothing more than a gentle reminder. Carlo hauled back on the reins and the girl clattered to a halt beside him. Her driver climbed down and Brian got a chance to examine the ponyslave at really close quarters.
She was a tall girl, about five foot eight or nine, he guessed, although her sandals did have heels a little higher than kitten ones. She was naked apart from those and her bridle, collar and restraints at ankle and wrist; these last being clipped to the shafts of the trap. The flesh and blood reality of the harnessed femininity hit Brian like a sledgehammer. Her bridle was fascinating, a complex web of buckles and straps encircling her head and supporting the bit which ran through her heavy tongue ring and provided the mountings for the reins. At the arena he had seen the legendary Blondie, amongst other slaves, run in full dressage harness but there was something about the workaday harness rather than the decorative dressage outfit and the sheer casual ‘everydayness’ of standing in the English countryside at ten o’clock on a Tuesday morning, fondling an exquisitely naked and harnessed girl which he found profoundly erotic. He reached out and cupped a breast, the day was by no means warm and whether for that reason or for others, the nipple was rubbery and firm under his fingers. Between her blinkers he could see the girl’s eyes remained fixed on the tarmac. He ran his hand down across the stomach towards the shaved crotch where the top of her slit crested the prominent pubic mound at the junction of the long, shapely thighs. The girl could quite easily have been a model in some previous life, her eyes were wide-set, large and a rich chestnut colour; her mouth, slightly open around her bit and tongue ring was also wide and the lips were invitingly soft and pronounced. Brian’s hand rested for a moment at the gateway to her sex and with a soft scraping noise she shuffled her feet a few inches apart to allow him access.


Great book up to his usual standard. 4 out of 5 (SM)

Author Information

Sean O'Kane is one of the most prolific erotic authors on the scene. He has developed the phenomenally successful Arena series of novels which have become international best sellers. But has many fine stand-alone titles to his credit.


Publisher Information

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