Contributed by Rex Saviour, author of our book ERICA, PROPERTY OF REX and the story ROBIN, PROPERTY OF OGOUN (in the 3-in-1 special BOUND FOR GOOD) and BALIKPAN 1 (њ10 – mail order only)
The first thing Lincoln did was to clear a space around himself and the girl. It wasn't easy, for they all the assembled Drivers wanted a good grope of her: they were all thoroughly aroused by now and knew she would feel good: the way she shrank from their touch was an added turn-on. She seemed to have a dread of being pinched. It was not one of Lincoln's more endearing traits so far as women in his power were concerned.
"Stand back for an artistic beating."
There were plenty of cheers, but someone shouted: "Artistic beating? What the fuck's that? Artistic? Sounds like crap to me!"
"What do you mean, crap?" Lincoln was getting angry.
"Sissy, like. Namby-pamby. No big deal."
"Namby-pamby it ain't," replied Lincoln with a coarse chuckle. "I'm not bullshitting. It's where some chick what ain't done nothing wrong gets a damn good thrashing – a damn good thrashing. Just because it's artistic don't mean it can't be hard! Difference is, she don't have to have earned it, it's just for the hell of it, for fun, to make a show and give everyone who watches a good wank off."
"What, we don't get to fuck her?"
"Afterwards, maybe. If you haven't shot your load already! There'll probably be a queue, mind."
"OK," said the doubter. "Sounds good. This one done no harm but you gonna beat her, right?"
"Right."
"Then there'll be a chance to fuck her?"
"You catch on fast," said Lincoln mockingly. "Matter of fact she's right obedient these days. As good as gold she is." He shook the girl, who was struggling like a wildcat in his arms. "Just like a pussy-cat she is usually, if you like that sort of thing, she'll rub up against you and purr, but all the time you can tell that she hates it. Yes, good as gold, except she still tries to get away if she's in trouble!"
He set her on her feet, but she sank to the ground and buried her tear stained face in his crotch, her fingers frantically at work on his flies.
"She often tries to get round me that way," he laughed, slapping her hands away. "Take no notice. She knows enough English to know she's going to be beaten, that's all, and she's had plenty before, it scares the shit out of her. Like I said, she seems to be more sensitive than most and the more often you beat her the more she howls next time."
He turned to the brothel keeper. "That'll suit you," he said. "What you're going to see is what she's like after a few weeks with me. A twice nightly beating show for a month or two and she'll likely be a real stunner as a turn-on, absolute best ever, I guarantee it, and you know me, Mister Honesty."
There were plenty of sniggers at that, and the brothel keeper looked sceptical.
"Not what I heard! I reckon mostly you oversell."
Lincoln glared at him. "Shit!" he said, "I'll fucking well show you what this one's worth." He looked round. "Give us more space. She used to be in a circus, I wanna show what tricks she can do first."
Soon a little arena in the middle of the throng of eager onlookers crowding round and reaching out for her was marked out, and bright lighting set up, dangling from a couple of cranes.
"Anyone got a few bags of sawdust?"
"Sure," said one of the Drivers. "In my load."
"Spread it around," said Lincoln. "Make it more genuine. Authentic. More like the real thing."
There were jeers at his long words, but soon the sawdust was spread, making it more like a circus ring, with spectators crowding round closely. It was not very big, but very very intimate. Everyone had a great view.
Now Lincoln shoved the girl away, so that she fell in a heap of sprawling limbs in the middle of the ring. He came away from the centre of the circle, leaving the girl there. She scrambled to her knees and stayed there, alone, bowed and kneeling, naked, with her head between her knees and her long black hair down on the sawdust. Her whole body was trembling, and she was making little whimpering noises.
Lincoln clapped his hands, and slowly she raised her head, shaking out her long black hair so that it shone in the lights, then she knelt up straight and clasped her hands behind her back, straining her shoulders back to thrust out her perfectly formed breasts, which Lincoln pointed to.
"Some say these are too small," he said. "Me, I reckon they ain't half bad. They sure feel good." He twisted the nipples in his large hand, making her jump. "Anyone not tried yet?"
Several shouts of 'yes' and 'me' came from the audience.
Lincoln clapped his hands again and the girl rose gracefully to her feet, standing on tip-toe with her legs wide apart and her hands on top of her head, elbows and shoulders still strained right back, making a pathetic little keening sound.
Lincoln went up to her and hit her on the cheek, jerking her head to one side.
"Shut up, bitch!"
Immediately she became silent. She closed her eyes, but tears could be seen welling from under the lids and overflowing.
Lincoln struck her on the other cheek.
"Open your eyes."
They were very dark brown, almost black, shining always, this time with tears, in a slanted setting with long black lashes. Her features were fine, classical, very Oriental, her nose and mouth small. Her lips had been painted red, as had her nipples.
She raised her head to stare out over his head, her body stiff and fearful, the lights shining on it, displaying her beautiful smooth satiny skin glowing with a slight sheen of sweat, her shaven sex was painted gold and thrust out.
Again he slapped a cheek.
"Look at me!"
Ever so reluctantly her head came down and she flinched away as her eyes met his. His were full of sadistic pleasure, hers overflowing with fear and horror and loathing.
"There are some men who want to feel your breasts, girl. Do not move away. Look at them whilst they examine you, OK?"
Another slap to reinforce his instructions and Lincoln turned back to the audience.
"Let's have a queue," he said.
Six of the Drivers lined up, grinning and joking. The others must have felt her up before, when she was tied to the pillar.
"What you grinning about?" asked Lincoln. "This is a serious matter. There's, money involved, it affects her price. Now that's real crucial! We need your opinions about whether her tits are suitable for work in a brothel and for shows like I am making up now. So let's have a little respect, gentlemen… OK, first one, please…"
The first man stepped forward eagerly, but Lincoln interrupted just as he laid a hand on the shrinking girl's right breast. Everyone could see what an effort she had to make to stand there and not run for it.
"Just one moment, pal. Back in line, please."
He went back to the girl and slapped her cheek again.
"Mouth open! You should know that. Tongue out. These gentleman may wish to see your teeth. Oh, and any other part of you they wish to handle, keep still, right?" He slapped her cheek again as she looked him in the eye. "And when they are done they get a kiss, and make it good. If anyone complains you'll be in dead trouble after."
There was an immediate scramble to join the queue, but Lincoln waved the newcomers back. "No more, gentlemen, or we'll be here all night… first gentleman again, please."
The girl stood still, on tiptoe, quivering but silent, those perfect legs very wide apart, her eyes upon the first Driver as he approached, none too steady on his legs after the whisky he had mixed with his beer.
Everyone saw her shrink away from his touch, but she managed to remain on tiptoe and did not move her feet, just swayed back a little.
She kept her eyes on him as he fumbled with her breasts with one hand, the other between her legs, crudely groping around there, but such was Lincoln's control over her that when at last he had finished she put up her face for a kiss, which he took with a clumsy bear hug that was more like a wrestling hold.
She continued to hold still for the next four, all of whom abused her in different ways. Most of the watchers had their dicks in their hands by now, but the best was yet to come.
The last man was the brothel keeper, her potential purchaser.
He went up to her and just stared at her until her eyes dropped. It was obvious that he was a true sadist.
"Look, Lincoln," he jeered. "Where's your control over this little bitch? What you gonna do 'bout that?"
"I'll see to it later," said Lincoln grimly. "Just see if I don't."
"But you're gonner sell her to me!"
"OK then, either you'll get to do it or we'll have to make the beating she's about to receive something real special."
"Both!" He was delighted. "The beating she's about to receive," he repeated, licking his lips with relish. "I like that! Right on! You need a helper for that?"
"Sure do!"
"You got one then! It'll help me if I do buy her and have the show to do."
"Oh, you will!" chuckled Lincoln confidently. He knew he had his man well and truly hooked now. "Finished for now?"
"You must be joking! I ain't even started!"
He still did not touch the Chinese girl, just walked round her. From behind he put his hand between her legs and she yelped at his fierce pinch.
"More shit, Lincoln. You told her to shut up."
"So I did."
"This beating she gonna receive going to be something to remember, eh?"
"Sure is!" repeated Lincoln angrily. He was not used to being humiliated like this, and his jaw was set in an angry line which did not bode well for the girl. The beating looked like being somewhat more than artistic, they all knew that it would be a real hard punishment now, and the excitement was growing by leaps and bounds.
For the next ten minutes or so the brothel keeper subjected the girl to the most degrading examination he could devise, and all the time she stood her ground. It was obvious to them all that he was trying to make her run, but he could not.
Until it came to the kiss…
Suddenly she bit him!
Hard enough that he howled out, a string of foul curses flowing from his lips.
And the girl broke away and ran, but everywhere she went the men in the circle turned her back until at last she ended up in Lincoln's strong arms. She screamed and screamed as he held her, battering his hairy chest with her small fists until at last she subsided into sobs.
He shoved her away and she collapsed at his feet. He hauled her up by her hair. He held her easily, despite her struggles.
"Do I get my kiss now?" asked the brothel keeper, her future owner. Oh yes, he intended to buy her. He had to have her now. Revenge would be sweet and prolonged. He knew now that he just had to have her. He grinned sadistically and approached the girl again, but again she broke down and ran, once again ending up in Lincoln's grip.
"Here, help yourself," said Lincoln. He held her out, a hand gripping her hair to hold her head in place. "Tongue out," he said. "Do it right."
The brothel keeper grinned. This time there was no problem, for Lincoln's hand at her sex was warning enough. She knew what his pinches were like.
"We better get to the beating," said the brothel keeper, wiping his lip where she had bitten him. "And boy had it better be good, this one's a right little spitfire!"
"It will be," said Lincoln grimly. "It surely will be. But first there's the circus stuff." He turned to the girl. "Right! Perform."
She moved to the very centre of the ring and bowed four times, turning as she did so, to a scatter of applause.
The dance routine she did next was acrobatic, not particularly intended to be erotic, but performed as it was by a captive girl, naked and knowing she was about to be beaten, erotic it most definitely was.
When she finished and repeated her four bows she was shining with sweat and her chest heaving, and this time the applause was quite loud.
"Good," said the brothel keeper, "I'll keep something like that in the shows. Now we beat her?"
"No," said Lincoln. "There's more circus stuff, man. In my truck I gotta case of gear I had made special." He turned to the brothel owner. "It was going to be extra after I'd sold her, but I guess I gotta throw it in now you'll see it." He chuckled. "It'll put her price up though, I reckon."
He turned back to the audience.
"Someone hold the bitch while I go get it."
"Be a pleasure," said the brothel keeper. As Lincoln dropped her in a heap at his feet, the other man picked her up by the hair and a hand at her crotch. "Maybe I'll even get a kiss!"
The crowd gathered round him as Lincoln pushed his way through, and soon they were cheering.
When Lincoln returned a few minutes later the ring was restored and soon the girl was posed in the middle of it, under the lights, on tiptoe with her hands clasped on top of her head, elbows right back as before, eyes open this time and fixed on Lincoln.
She was still crying and her lips were bruised.
"Before the beating," said Lincoln, "there will be some more circus stuff."
There was some applause.
"I must prepare her for the cat act."
Whistles at that.
He opened his case, and took out a cloth and some oil.
"Someone rub her down."
Once again it was the brothel keeper, who obviously considered himself part owner already. And he took great delight in doing it thoroughly. Although she was trembling quite noticeably and shrinking from his touch, she held her erotic pose as he oiled her all over, paying special attention to her most sensitive areas, till her skin was gleaming beautifully in the bright glare of the hot lights
Lincoln clapped his hands twice and the girl immediately bent gracefully forwards and clasped both her ankles with her small hands, keeping her knees stiff and still on tiptoe with her legs wide apart.
There were gasps of admiration all round, and a burst of applause.
The brothel keeper was quick to respond. He held out his hand and Lincoln passed a large plug over.
"Up the arse?"
Lincoln nodded.
"What, this? The end looks mighty thick to me. She ain't all that big."
"Oh, it'll go in alright," said Lincoln. "Be sure to get it all the way, mind, or it may work loose."
The man chuckled. "Leave it to me, squire! Well up it shall be!"
"One moment," said Lincoln. He produced a bottle and sprinkled some powder over it. "Ginger," he said. "Usually wakes her up good!"
The brothel keeper walked over to the bent over girl and circled round her a couple of times. Her apprehension was evident from the way she stiffened up at his approach. Then he parted her bum cheeks and held the end of the plug against her arsehole, causing her to go rigid.
He laughed and withdrew it, slapping her bum instead.
"Wait for it, my pretty!"
Next time he actually pushed it in a little way, and the girl let out a gasp. It was obvious to them all that it was hurting as he pushed it in a little way and drew it out again several times, before suddenly and violently shoving it right in and screwing it around until he was satisfied it was well and truly settled.
Then he gave her another slap to the bum and returned to Lincoln.
"How's that?"
"Not bad."
It was an understatement. She was squirming beautifully, and some of the Drivers began to clap.
Lincoln dipped into his box again.
"Girth!"
He passed over some more leather work and a large dildo.
"What's the dildo for?"
"I like to plug her both ways. I think maybe it improves her posture a bit. With a bit of this" – he held up the bottle of ginger and sprinkled the dildo with it liberally – "it certainly makes her move more!"
"My God!" said the brothel keeper, studying the dildo.
"Maybe I just got into the habit. Don't matter really, not if it bothers you."
"Well, it's got these little knobs all over it."
"Yes. I use it for punishment other times."
The brothel keeper could hardly restrain himself.
"But isn't it too big for her?"
"Not if you can get it in!"
"If you can, I can."
Although the girl maintained her position reasonably well, getting it in did prove quite a problem, but the brothel keeper persevered. Anything Lincoln could do, he could do! He got it most of the way in, anyway. It didn't half make her squirm. that was for sure.
The main part of the girth was a broad belt which went round her waist. But the interesting bit was a thin strip of leather that dangled down in front. For part of its length it was split into two. He soon saw what it was for – it joined together in a buckle at the end.
He pulled it down between her legs and up the back, where they buckled to the back of the belt.
As he strained to tighten it the others joined in a chant.
"Tighter! Tighter! Tighter!"
It was forcing the dildo in even further, but the split was exactly over the rear plug, it parted into two strands there, like a river round a small rock to allow the arse plug to stand proud.
Again he put a knee in her back and really strained.
He felt the dildo plunge in right to the hilt and the strap would tighten no further. He was glad to see that it was so thin that it would not get in the way of the beating she was to receive.
It pushed out the bottom cheeks in invitation for the strap.
Or a belt.
Or a whip, or whatever…
She looked really good now, standing there on tiptoe again but wriggling all the time because of the plug up her arse and the dildo in her cunt. Walking with that dildo in would be agony, she wouldn't get far with that in. Maybe he'd use it as a restraint.
Maybe Lincoln wasn't as dumb as he looked! He was still rummaging in his box.
"Tail!" he shouted.
What he held up was a tiger tail.
"It screws into the arse plug," he said to the brothel keeper, as he handed it over.
The brothel keeper walked over to the girl, and without waiting to be told she bent over again, feet wide apart, and clasped her ankles.
The brothel keeper turned to Lincoln. "Feels more like a whip than a tail," he said, pretending to be puzzled.
"It's both," said Lincoln. "Don't matter which order you take things in. Me, I'd rather use it as a tail first."
"OK," said the brothel keeper. He was stroking the girl's bottom with the tail, or whip, admiring the way she shrank from it. She must know what it was like as a whip, he thought. There was stiff wire through it. It probably hurt quite badly, but would leave no mark because of the fur covering. He only tried it out a couple of times, and it certainly did make her jump.
He screwed it in as a tail.
"I'll enjoy taking this off!" he hissed in her ear. She may not have understood his words, but judging by the shudder that went right through her, she got the idea alright
"Mask," said Lincoln.
It was a half-mask, with splendid whiskers. The brothel keeper fitted it over her face. It made quite a reasonable big cat out of her.
"Now what?" asked the brothel keeper.
Lincoln clapped his hands and the catgirl went down on her knees, hands held before her like paws. "Before she jumps through hoops and all that jazz," said Lincoln, "how about you say, 'anyone wanna be sucked off by a cat?'"
"What's the order?"
"No order necessary. Just point to someone. Like this." Lincoln pointed to the brothel keepers crotch and the girl scuffled over to him on her knees and began undoing his fly. Then, in front of them all, she sucked him off.
"Great!" he said when he got his breath back. "She's the greatest!" Then he realised he shouldn't have said that. The price was going up and he was one great fool – but, he had to admit, a very happy one.
"So," he said, calming down a little, "she jumps through hoops?"
"Sure!"
Lincoln gestured her to her feet, and she went back to her tiptoe position, legs wide apart and hands stretched up over her head, only now the bottom half of her was squirming and writhing all over the place.
He took some hoops out of the box and distributed them among the Drivers.
"Make a circuit, lads."
On his command, she went through them using her arms like front legs, really graceful. They could all see how her circus training allowed her to roll over and get back on her feet if she fell awkwardly.
"Anyone got a can of petrol?"
Soon Lincoln had her ready for another round, but the last hoop was blazing.
She went round the others as before, but balked at the flaming one and stood before it, chest heaving, loins squirming, sweating and in distress.
"She's dead scared of fire," said Lincoln. "I think maybe someone burned her sometime."
"So what do we do about that?"
"Nothing. No way she'll go through. I'm just showing you. You tell everyone you gotta flog her for it later."
"And I would!" said the brothel keeper. "Bet I can make her go through it."
"Do what you like after you buy her," said Lincoln. "And now let's have the races."
"Races?"
"Sure. We race her. Sure to be popular, specially with betting."
He was fiddling with his box again.
"Harness." He held out some leather straps with rings in them.
"How do they go?" The brothel keeper was puzzled but excited. His piggy eyes gleamed with cruel anticipation.
"Arms up behind her back."
Lincoln clapped his hands again and the girl straightened up gracefully and stood on tiptoes, legs apart as before, but this time with her arms behind her back, each elbow clasped firmly in the opposite hand. It straightened her up even better than before, thrusting out those shapely breasts that were in dispute, and now she held her head high, almost arrogantly. Although it was obvious that she was actually deeply ashamed at what was happening to her, perhaps she had decided that to go along with it was the only option.
"These will improve her stance even more, even if they don't make her stand still," said Lincoln proudly. "They hold the arms as they are, these go round just above the elbows to hold them in more and push her out more in front. Then you just tighten the first lot and she's held good."
"Wow!" said the brothel keeper. "I like it! I like it!"
He went over to her eagerly, and put the straps on the ground beside her to sort them out, whilst the spectators looked on in avid fascination.
The first two straps merely held her arms in the position she had already taken up, but she winced as he tightened them.
It was the other that made the difference!
He looped it round the outside of her arms just above each elbow and pulled, pulled it tighter and tighter with his knee in the small of her back. Now she was really hurting as her shoulders came back and her front pushed out.
When he stood back to admire her she was bent backwards like a taut bow, her arse and tits sticking out gloriously. She had already had a very upright stance, her back normally straight to hold the head proudly up, and now she looked really gorgeous.
There was a spontaneous burst of clapping and a few cheers as the brothel keeper stepped forward again and took a kiss before leaving her alone in the ring.
She was still on tiptoe! Lincoln knew she would hold that until he told her otherwise. She better had, he thought grimly. The fucking bitch had been disobedient enough already. Lincoln valued his reputation as a hard man with obedient goods to sell.
He took the next item out of his bag and held it up for all to see.
"Bit!"
They all saw that the girl flinched at the word. But she held her pose and opened her mouth wide.
The brothel keeper took it over to her. It seemed to be designed to be as uncomfortable as possible, and that pleased him. It had rings on each end, and strapped round her head. When it was in place her mouth was held open just widely enough to become increasingly agonising after a while without spoiling her looks.
Her tongue was available. It made taking another kiss very easy.
She was coming along well, he thought. He was only uneasy at the unwelcome thought that the price for her would still be going up! Higher and higher. Maybe he should never have got into this, but there was no denying that he was finding it a real turn-on to have such a beautiful creature so totally at his mercy – not that he intended to show any. He never did. It was not his style, cruelty was. He could hardly wait to have her at his place, to do a few things to her that Lincoln would never have thought of. He considered Lincoln a bit of a dullard. Yes, a real thickhead, was Lincoln. But he had done alright with this specimen, he had to admit that. Fortunately he would be able to get her for far less than she would be worth to him. Oh yes, whatever the price he would score with the shows.
Next Lincoln took a multi-coloured plume out of the bag. "Have to change tails," he said, clapping his hands again.
The girl bent forward till her head was below her knees, wincing as the straps tightened even further. Lincoln screwed out the tiger tail and brushed the tip of it over her tense bottom, so beautifully displayed.
"She expects six or more with this whenever I take it out," he said. "But as this is a special do, I suggest you line up and give her one each."
"Make it two," someone shouted, amidst laughter and jostling.
"OK, two it is. Hard as you like, lads. This one is trained to take a lot, believe me."
They did believe him. They knew his reputation.
"What if we exceed our quota?"
"What?"
"What if we hit her more than twice?"
Lincoln smiled. "Damn all I can do 'bout that!"
It was quite a while before the little ceremony was completed. The girl stood there on tiptoes, her chest heaving, her bottom glowing, her eyes wet.
"Now," said Lincoln, "I've taught her to make like a horse."
"What?"
"Listen."
Lincoln clapped his hands, and the girl raised her head and whinnied and pawed the ground. She really did sound like a horse. Probably it was the only sound she could make while she had the bit in. The brothel keeper was thrilled. And he was wondering how badly her jaws were aching already. Quite a lot, he fancied, it would soon be real agony. Two shows a night? He would leave the bit in place between them. Only a couple of hours, but it would give him a hard on just knowing about it.
My God, he'd have some real fun with this one!
Maybe he'd tell her to neigh when she couldn't take any more but would rather have one of his very special beatings instead. Then he'd come and look at her and laugh and shake his head…
What further delights might there be in store?
"Straps!" said Lincoln.
It didn't take the brothel keeper long to figure that one out. Only one set of straps were necessary. They ran from the outer ends of the bit to the girth belt at centre back, and held the head up nicely.
My God she looked a treat now!
"Shoes!" said Lincoln.
They were high heeled shoes with fur round to make them look like horse's feet. The catch was, they were high heeled without any heels. And, the brothel keeper discovered as he put his hand inside, spiked inside. Great! There was no way she could put her feet down properly wearing these.
He went over and fitted them, holding up one foot at a time as she struggled to hold her balance.
Then she was ready!
"What now?" he asked. "Do we beat her now?"
"Oh no," said Lincoln. "We parade her!"
"And then we beat her."
"And then we race her!"
"Of course! And then we beat her?"
Lincoln just smiled. His smile was enigmatic, giving nothing away.
He just clapped his hands.
The pony started to walk round the ring. The ring was so small that everyone could touch her as she passed them. Her posture was immaculate, upright, head up, feet raised like a real horse.
The brothel keeper was amazed that she could be made to walk done up like that. Just by a clap of the hands! The dildo alone would be hurting like hell. He nearly ejaculated in his pants at the thought of it.
Lincoln clapped his hands again.
The pony broke into a trot, knees right up to her midriff. Her face shone with sweat and tears poured from her eyes as she trotted round and round.
The applause was deafening but Lincoln wasn't finished yet.
He clapped his hands again.
Now the pony was running, running hard, running her heart out.
They watched in awed silence as she ran round and round the little circle.
Lincoln had his watch out.
"Five minutes," he said.
But after four and a half she staggered and fell, collapsing in a heap on the sawdust.
He went over and slashed down with his riding crop. "She's let me down again," he complained. "She'll have to suffer for that, or you'll have no authority over her."
"Right! I understand."
"And now," said Lincoln to the men gathered round, "we need a ten minute break for refreshments. Leave the pony alone, if you don't mind -" a couple of men stepped back from her – "or she'll be no good for racing."
"And we haven't had the beating yet," came a voice.
"Exactly," said Lincoln. "So fucking well leave her alone, then."
He strode off towards the little bar that had been erected near the main doors. The brothel keeper went with him. A few men stayed with the pony. It was a bit much to expect otherwise.
"How can we set up a steeplechase?" wondered Lincoln, lifting a foaming glass to his fleshy lips.
"A steeplechase?"
"Yeah. A steeplechase. Do you have to be a parrot? A place she can run and jump things."
"Boxes, maybe?"
"Sure, boxes'll do fine."
"I'll see to it."
"Right. Make a fairly difficult course. The betting will be how many jumps she makes before she falls."
By the time Lincoln had finished a couple of drinks the brothel keeper had arranged a course of ten jumps round the walls of the shed. Some bunting had been found and music was to hand, and one of the Drivers was taking the bets.
"What if she completes the course?" asked Lincoln.
"Jackpot!" said the man. "If that's what you bet on. Everyone puts in a tenner and says how many, one to ten, and the pool goes to everyone who has guessed right. Nobody's said over eight so far."
"I'll go for broke," said Lincoln, putting down his tenner. He'd score well if he won, and he thought he knew how to fix that.
He went back to where the girl lay writhing beneath the weight of several Drivers, and pulled them off with a curse. As he stood her at the start he whispered, "You go all the way, or else! I've bet on you finishing the course."
He stood a few yards from her with a long whip in his hands.
"First race – all bets done, lads?"
Nothing but nods and a few calls of 'get on with it'.
"This whip sets her going, OK?"
There was no dissent.
The whip cracked with a flourish and she jumped in the air and was off. Her run was awkward with her hands secured up behind her back, but she was a natural athlete, circus trained, and looked reasonably graceful as well as incredibly erotic.
It was not until the fifth jump that she failed to clear it and fell crashing to the ground, rolling over and over and ending up in an untidy sprawling heap, arse up.
Lincoln was above her cringing figure in a flash, wielding a riding crop without mercy as she writhed about on the floor.
"Goddam it, bitch! Bloody Hell! I told you finish the fucking course!"
His temper was really gone. He continued to lay into her helpless figure until the brothel keeper hauled him off.
"Steady man. There's another race. And don't spoil her for the beating."
At last he calmed down. "Sorry, place your bets for the next race. It starts in ten minutes."
The betting was more on lower numbers this time. Nobody thought she'd do as well a second time. But Lincoln went for a perfect round again, as he told the girl as he prepared her for the start.
"Don't you dare let me down again," he snarled. "Don't you fucking dare or there'll soon be no skin on that pretty little arsehole of yours!"
He picked up the long whip again. It was knotted at the end.
"All done?"
Again there was nothing but a chorus of assent.
"Ready -"
The girl stood trembling, her eyes on the whip.
"Go!"
She was off like a flash but there was no way of avoiding the whip. He let her go a few yards before he cracked it on her, and she stumbled for a few paces but just managed to recover.
Nearly blew my bet there, he thought.
As it happened it didn't matter. She crashed at the eighth, but it was because someone had tripped her.
"No bets on that," shouted the bookie. "Null race."
"OK," said Lincoln. "Rerun."
He went to the girl and picked her up by the hair. "See you get right round this time, or else!"
Lincoln's 'or else' was famous.
This time he started her with the whip and ran after her with it, cracking her several times as hard as he could to liven her up.
And this time she made it, to grudging applause.
"OK!" said Lincoln. "Now for the obstacle race. Any ideas?"
"Me!" came a voice, followed by laughter.
"OK," said Lincoln. "She has to get through a group of four of you. What else?"
"I've got a big net over my load," one Driver volunteered. "We could fix that down with weights for her to wriggle under."
"And I've got some barrels," said another. "We could knock the bottoms out and hang them up."
"That should be enough," said Lincoln. "Plus we'll tie her legs together, eh? We'll set the course the length of the building, and bets will be on how long she takes, to the nearest minute, OK?
The course only took half an hour to set, and soon they were ready for the off, all bets taken. The girl's legs were bound together above the knees and at the ankles and she was set against the wall at one end, facing the one at the other.
"We can all encourage her along the way," said Lincoln, "so have your belts out. Isn't that barrel a bit small?"
The man who had contributed the barrels shrugged
"There's only four without that one. She's not that big. She might make it. And I've hung it last."
"Fair enough," said Lincoln. "All bets made? Ready for the off? Ready, get set, GO!"
She didn't move.
"Say it in Chinese," someone jeered.
Lincoln gave her a push towards the four who waited, the first obstacle. They proved quite an effective one, and she took a great deal of bucking and wriggling to get through.
Then, instead of going under the net, she started running over it and had to be brought back and pushed under. She was soon wriggling along, assisted by many none too gentle blows with the belts. Her progress was definitely encouraged by them, but also severely impeded by her harness, which kept getting snagged.
"Five minutes," called out the timekeeper.
That caused those who had bet on a quick time to encourage her all the more, whilst a few who had estimated longer put their boots on the netting to slow her down.
At last she emerged at the other end.
"Ten minutes!"
One of the Drivers who had bet on twelve picked her up and shoved her head first into the first barrel, then started thrashing her exposed bottom with his belt. Her legs waved wildly in the air as she wriggled her way frantically into the barrel, but getting through was far from easy.
At last she fell out at the front, only to be pushed into barrel two.
"Twelve."
Another Driver took over. There were few bets on so long a race and he had high hopes at sixteen minutes, and he had her through the next two and into the last one to the count of fourteen and the cheers of the other Drivers.
By hard lashing with his belt he got her well and truly into that last barrel, but there she stuck, head out at the front, arse and waving legs at the back.
She was frantic as he lashed her harder and harder, but there was no way she could progress any further, even when others joined in the assault on her bottom.
"Hold it," shouted Lincoln after another few minutes. "Hold it, lads, or she'll be no good for the beating. Time for another break. Just leave her alone, will you! I declare the race unfinished, all bets off."
"So what now?" asked the brothel keeper.
"So now we beat her," said Lincoln.
The brothel keeper licked his lips. She was still swinging in the barrel as one or two of the Drivers took the chance to explore her wriggling behind. "Artistically, eh? I'm looking forward to that."
"Well, you can stop then," said Lincoln. "I don't give a shit for artistic. A beating is a beating is a beating, right? Specially when I do it! A flogging is a flogging. If you advertise it as an artistic beating twice nightly, or whatever, with matinees for all I care, you have to make up your own artistic."
"Well OK," said the brothel keeper. "Maybe I got an idea or two at that."
"But for now," said Lincoln, "we just beat the shit out of her, right lads?"
"Right!" came back the shouts.
"And it ain't for nothing after all, she let me down bad and I don't stand for that… get the frame off my rig, some of you. And get her out of that fucking barrel."
They had to pull her out backwards, there was no way she could ever have got through or out at all by herself.
He clapped his hands and she took up her position in the centre of the ring again, on tiptoes because of the heelless high-heeled shoes that were spiked inside, feet wide apart as she had been taught, arms still strapped tightly together at the elbows behind her back, jaws parted a little by the bit and head held up by the reins from the bit to the elbow straps, breasts and bottom pushed out tight as a bow, still squirming from the ginger on the dildo and plug held in place by the tight leather strap between her legs.
She stood there watching, trembling visibly as they slowly assembled the frame in front of her terrified eyes, making rude gestures towards her as they did so, telling her what it was for, as if she didn't know.
Little whimpers came from between her parted teeth. She had beautiful teeth, small, white and even. Like two rows of pearls, Lincoln thought, with a pink tongue tip just showing like an invitation between them, though he would never say such a thing out loud in a thousand years. Not in this company!
"Come on," said Lincoln. "I may may not know how to beat a woman artistically, but I bet I can string her up real pretty!"
The frame itself was plain enough, just a rectangle of plain wood standing on a rough wooden base, but it had hooks screwed into it in various places.
"Do we take her harness off first?" someone asked. "That bit must be really aching by now, and see how she wriggles."
"Well, what's wrong with that?" asked Lincoln.
"Stops a guy concentrating! Distracting see?"
There were jeers at that.
"She's great as she is," said the brothel keeper. "That's how I'll do it!"
"If you come to a decent price," said Lincoln. But there was little doubt about that now, and both men knew it.
The girl must know it too. The horror in her almond eyes whenever they fell on the brothel keeper did not suggest that she looked forward to his twice-nightly shows. But at that moment she was more concerned with her immediate plight as the argument went on.
The general opinion seemed to be that it would be better to leave her as she was, squirming and bitted and arms secured behind her back, and that was how it was decided in the end.
The brothel keeper held her up in the frame, both hands at her crotch, whilst Lincoln passed a rope from a hook in the cross beam under one armpit, behind her back, and out behind the other armpit, before tying it off to another cross beam hook.
Now she dangled in the air, angled slightly forward, head held up by the reins from the bit to the harness, but bottom pushed out behind so that her continued squirming was even more pronounced.
Lincoln tied a long thin rope to the cross-beam. It dangled down in front of her face and reached the floor. Only Lincoln and the girl knew what it was for. You could tell that by the way she shrank from it and Lincoln smiled his most evil smile.
"Do we fasten her legs?" wondered Lincoln.
"Let's give her a few like that," suggested the brothel keeper. "Then fasten them to the bottom corners for the upper cut."
Lincoln nodded.
"Good thinking! That's when we take the dildoes out. And this is where you have a break to let people spend money at the bar… OK, take ten minutes. And don't handle the goods."
But the chance to handle the hanging girl was too much. The thought that she was about to be beaten made touching her flesh irresistible.
"You can charge for that!" laughed Lincoln, as he reached for another can of beer. "Fiver a feel, eh? Can't be bad!"
"Be better without the dildoes, maybe?"
"Maybe so. They could dip their fingers in ginger."
"Or push pieces up… let's try it."
It was a successful innovation. By the end of the ten minutes, which ended up more like twenty, she was squirming and wriggling better than ever, and also totally exposed. Strange little noises were coming from behind the bit, and bubbles as well.
"Line up, gents," said Lincoln. "Belts or straps or whatever at the ready, please. She'll be well presented in a minute."
He stood behind her, reached between her legs, and grasped the strong thin rope that dangled down between her breasts. Then he moved back six feet and began to raise it up…