Infiltrating Ashagen, the land of ultimate torture

Chapter XII – The “Heavy Feet” race

Authors: Noemi Salvadge & Aurelie Catena

English corrected by JP

Authors' emails: Noya2929 [at] gmail [dot] com), Aurelie [dot] Catena[at] gmail [dot] com

Tags:M/f, M/f+, F/f, F/f+, interracial, modification, snuff, Tit Torture, feet, slavery, bondage, real, torture, nc, Extreme

“Now my darlings, as we're over with the warming-up, we should look into the depths of the race tomorrow! Unfortunately we don't have a display in this cell so you have to listen very carefully if you don't want to miss anything important. Even you, Nigger, and you, Redhair, and don't forget you, Sleeping Beauty!” she turned to Anet who was just slapped to consciousness by Zek.

“The race you'll participate in is called ‘Plod Through Wolves' Valley’ also known as ‘Heavy Feet Race’. The set up is simple. Your hands are locked behind your back and chained to a heavy iron ball resting on the ground. The balls are about twenty kilos, so nothing exceptional. The main idea is that your feet are decorated with no more than four thin needles. Some of you have already experienced much harder treatments you might say, so nothing to be scared of. But you should. Each foot has twenty-six bones, a bit more joints between them, several sinews and lots of smaller and larger muscles. Simple human anatomy. Your feet are also the instruments of balance, an organ that gives you the ability to walk, run, jump and wiggle your asses. I can say that the foot is the very dainty and the precision tool of motion. A man, who's cherished here for his exceptional talent discovered ways of separating joints, of forcing sinews to bend, of scratching bones so as to inflict maximum pain. You won't lose your ability to walk... ohhh noooo... but every fucking step you make will burn like fire inside your feet and will make you regret you were ever born. However, I'm afraid walking will be quite necessary...” Kelly explained, giggling. Her long-nailed fingers were involuntary jerking her rubber dildo as if it was a real cock.

“One needle will be inserted between the cuboid and navicular bones, two others between the cuneiforms and a last one between the metatarsal-phalangeal joints...” she gave the medical names one after another. “So you will stand there in the hot sand of the Arena, and even standing still will cause inhuman pain. Your wrists will be pulled behind by the balls so walking - and I promise that with that pain in your feet you won't have a chance for running at all - will be difficult.

Watching you working forwards with such pain is an entertainment indeed, but our guests need a bit more fun. So every one of you will hold a very... errr... let's say special piece of meat between your teeth. I say hold because these pieces will be ringed and with a long chain will be attached to your tongues. If the meat falls, your tongue will be yanked by it... quite unpleasant a situation, racing with your tongue pulled down...” she continued her explanation and her wild smile proved how much Kelly was excited even by the image of the race.

“We want to see how steadily you can hold the meat in your mouth so your lips will be chained to your nostrils, ears, and nipples with a total of six chains. Slaves who have the adequate number of rings should feel lucky... The first half of the track is just sand, nothing else. Right in the middle you have to wade through a small pool of melted fat. Unfortunately it won't be too hot, just warm enough to be liquid. Your pierced feet will be covered with the fat so that they might become slippery. There will be a stone obstacle that you have to climb. It has stairs from your arrival side so that you can easily climb it even with slippery feet, but the other side you need to jump as it is totally vertical. Not too high: about one meter but with your pierced feet not to mention the ball... well, we've seen really funny falls in the past!” Kelly laughed again.

“There, the main attraction will be waiting for you... eight hungry, sweet, little doggies... Staffordshire terriers... they never attack humans so you don’t need to worry, this is not the Final Scream Arena. But they simply ADORE licking fat or chew on meat hanging from stretched tongues, if you get the idea...” Kelly was laughing again as she peeked at Anet’s face.

“The last question is: why should you move and strive for winning? It's easy. The file-closer always has to endure my prodding, which I execute with my gas-fuelled torch. I prefer asses but sometimes I also target other body parts... It looks like a flame-thrower but the flame is much thinner and can be aimed much more accurately. Secondly; the loser will be forced to eat every remaining meat that is left after the race. I just love to feed bitches like you, as you've already figured it out. Then she will spend her next 24 hours going from cell to cell to tongue-wash the feet of all other arena slaves. She will not be allowed to leave a cell before a guardian decides its occupant feet are properly clean. As you are all females, you will start with the men’s cells before moving to the women’s. Of course, during this period, you will be properly restrained. The second and the third participants will be forced to drink one mug of the melted fat in which you bathed your feet. They will then be fitted with a choking-collar and pipe-gag set as the one Ayala is currently wearing. The winner of course will be granted to drink the collected sperm of her fans. Being the winner is definitely worth the effort, not to mention your owner's satisfaction!” Kelly finished and looked around smiling. “Any questions?”

Aurelia shivered at the mention of these atrocities. It reminded her the show she had seen on Ashagen TV. Now, she was going to be part of it. She looked at her opponents. Ayala was probably too much of a wreck to be really efficient. She looked very tired. Anet seemed too scared and shy. Joyce was probably going to be the most dangerous. She looked courageous and strong, and mostly untouched. She was too impulsive though. She would probably exhaust herself too early. Maybe even before the race…

Aurelia judged that her prospects of winning was rather good, but the race itself was going to be extremely painful and she wondered in what state she would be in at the end of it.

Kelly nodded to Zek and the hooded man walked around all the prisoners, injecting something into their bloodstream from behind, right into their buttocks. “The race will be tomorrow morning, and we don't want our slaves being tired. Our customers need real entertainment with vivid participants” Kelly said. Aurelia’s vision became blurry within seconds. She tried to force herself to keep her eyes open but the drug made her efforts totally useless. She only had time to see the pipe gag removed from Ayala's throat along with her choking collar before falling unconscious.

* * *

It seemed to her that between her falling unconscious and awakening only a few minutes had passed, but with her well trained senses Aurelia was able to measure the changes of the infiltrating lights. She had been asleep for a nearly a complete day. When Kelly finished her wicked game of double-swallow the time was around 2pm, and Aurelia was now waking up early in the morning: The day of the race. The position of the slaves had been changed. Their legs had been lifted high and their ankles had been put into holes above their wrists. In that position their bottoms were also raised high in the air and for her discomfort she felt that something was inserted into her anus. A dildo that supported most of her weight, so it had to be at the end of a long pole set in the ground. The position was quite painful but luckily, her limber body was easing the stretching. She was surprised  how clear her brain was, right after an artificial sleep. But then she caught a glimpse at Zek who went from slave to slave and injected something into their ankles, bringing the women back to consciousness. Kelly was standing in the middle of the circle, smiling brightly. A short man was with her. The man looked familiar and Aurelia soon recognized Torana, the cruel tattooist.

“Good morning, bitches! Your big day has finally come!” Kelly greeted them. “All of you have been injected with some low dose amphetamine. Enough to be aware but not too much as we really don't want you to lose your ability for feeling pain. I have Master Torana here, he will perform your final preparation. Your race will start in one hour so it's time to begin.” she said, nodding to the Asian man.

Torana stepped to Aurelia first and blinked at her. “Nice to see you again, slave. Tyros is my friend and he's really a nice guy, so I strongly hope you will bring him joy today. But the race must be clean so I can't favour you. Prepare for the same treatment as the others” he said in his raspy voice. Torana produced eight shiny, sharp needles, around 10-centimetre long. He got close to the girl's left foot and grabbed her cold instep. Aurelia jumped in her restraints and wiggled her foot helplessly. It was to no avail as her foot was solidly held in the Asian’s steel grip.

“The insertion causes pain but be prepared for a hundred times worse experience when you stand up...” he murmured as he placed a needle against the top of her foot. He started to push and the shiny metal ran into her flesh like a knife into butter. Torana pushed it deeper and deeper, very slowly, changing the angle from time to time. The needle scratched the surface of her bone when he missed the joint but once he had revised the angle, the needle penetrated even deeper.

From the corner of her eyes, Aurelia could see the cruel man’s work on her foot, which was locked above her head on her left. She contorted her neck to get a better view. What she saw was as horrible as the pain she felt. Seeing the needle probing into her flesh, grinding against the nerve-filled surface of her tiny bones was beyond any human comprehension. She screamed to the top of her lungs, producing higher yelps when he pushed the needle deeper. She felt her very bones slightly pushed apart as the steel was forced between them. This caused extreme stress and pain in her feet.

The second needle was inserted through the side of her feet, right above her arch, and the same torturing, slow insertion was executed. Aurelia screamed her lungs out as this new needle seemed to cause even more pain. She arched her body and struggled with all her might, as if she would have been able to break the stocks apart. But her cries, supplications and thrashing had no other effect than to make the steel pillory to creak and her tormentor to grin.

As every foot had different scales and proportions it was impossible even to Torana to insert the needles accurately to the very right spots for the first time, although his knowledge of human anatomy made him quite effective indeed. He considered himself an  artist and to him, inserting needles into the part with the most complex conformation in the human body was a creative process.

The third needle was pushed from the exterior side of Aurelia's foot where the toes join the rest of the foot, and Torana drove the needle through tendons and muscles also separating two joints. Aurelia’s shrieks echoed through the cell as the fiery pain did not leave her any relief. Instinctively, she wiggled her toes. This simple movement caused so much agony that she froze her foot immediately. Her mouth was gaping wide and she was panting hard, her eyes bulging out of their sockets, her face contorted in an inhuman figure of terror.

The fourth needle was driven in from the top somewhere in the middle. Every needle was sticking out by no more than a few centimetres, and due to his masterful work only a few dark red blood beads had dripped where the needles had entered the flesh. Aurelia, unappreciative of this achievement, was crying and panting and sweating, vainly trying to find in her training the strength to resist this unbearable pain.

The very same process was repeated on Aurelia's right foot, the four needles were pushed in exactly the same spots and angles. This time, Torana worked even faster as he had learned the proportions of Aurelia's feet. Torana took about ten minutes to complete Aurelia's feet. He knew what he was doing.

In the meantime Kelly and Zek had been busy with Anet and had prepared her face for the race. As the poor girl lacked lip rings they used small, shiny hooks which they threaded through her lips. Two of the hooks were double-ended and those were hooked into the whining girl's nostrils, pulling her lips upwards until her gums were clearly visible. The other hooks were pierced into the corners of her mouth and with thin chains they were stretched over Anet's cheeks leading to her ears where hooks were pierced through her ear-lobs, stretching her mouth sidewards.

Kelly and Zek went then to Ayala and Torana also moved to the crying Anet, to fit her with her feet needles. Finally the sadist couple arrived to Aurelia but as she was already fully ringed, all they had to do was to set the length of the chains so as to stretch the agent's upper lip into all directions. Aurelia’s eyes were filled with tears as this process caused fresh pain in her sensitive lips. Her exposed gums and flashing teeth gave her quite ugly a look.

Crying, whining and rough jokes filled the cell as all slaves received the same treatment until all eight feet had been decorated with four needles each, and all four faces were contorted by tense chains.

The second phase of the preparation started. Anet's wrists were released just to be chained together behind her back. Zek lifted her from her anus dildo while Kelly released her neck and ankles and Anet was slowly lowered on the floor. Poignant screams streamed from Anet's mouth as she was made to stand on her feet. The skinny girl was standing there with trembling legs and tear-covered face. Zek had to hold her to prevent her from falling.

Kelly finished her preparation with two more hooks which were pushed into her lower lips and stretched towards Anet's tits where her pink nipples suffered the same treatment. Her small breasts were forced upwards so it took some time for Kelly to adjust the length of the chains until finally Anet was ready.

“Don't dare to fall but stay in place!” Kelly shouted into Anet's face and the terrified girl obeyed although her face and eyes showed clearly how much pain she was suffering. Ayala and Joyce were also removed from their dildos, forced to stand up and Kelly finished the stretching of their lips. Finally they moved to Aurelia. Her wrists were released and the three wicked people forced her arms behind her back where Kelly could lock the cuffs onto her wrists. Zek lifted Aurelia, the dildo slid out of her asshole with a wet sound. Her legs and head were also freed and Aurelia had to endure as Zek actually dropped her onto the ground from a 40 centimetres height.

The pain had receded in her feet since the needles had been shoved in. But as she landed hard on them and they had to carry her entire weight, pain exploded again. The tiny bones wanted to roll and glide against each other to adjust the girl’s equilibrium, but the carefully-placed needles were in their way. They ground into their surface, prevented the muscles and tendons to stretch as they should, causing incredible agony. She nearly fell as the pain paralysed her feet. She tried to get on her toes but this immediately caused another sharp pain to fire in her toe joints. After many pitiful attempts to find a position that was not stressing any of the needles, she had to admit there was none.

When the girl finally regained her balance and the pain cleared from her vision Kelly stretched her lips to her nipples making Aurelia grin grotesquely, just as she had been forced to do in Torana's house two days before. Aurelia’s mouth was left looking like a pink flower, her cruelly stretched lips circumscribing her gums with the rosy, star-shaped, delicate skin covering their inner part. Inside, her white teeth flashed in a perfect circle with the long fangs barring the darker cavity of her mouth.

“Okay slaves, we're almost ready!” Kelly shouted. “You get your snacks and balls outside the Arena. RUNNER!”

Another stable keeper, a spindly man arrived. He was wearing an outfit and hood similar to Zek’s. He was driving an electric cart. Kelly smiled viciously and slapped Aurelia's ass. “Move! Onto the cart!” she commanded, and Anet was the first who carefully stepped on the wooden vehicle. She cried out, her knees almost turned sideward and made her fall, but somehow she managed to keep her balance. She slowly headed towards the cart, her legs trembling as if she were blind drunk; she was crying hysterically and let out short shrieks at every step, but finally she reached the cart and climbed onto it. Ayala and Joyce followed Anet's example but their walking was also handicapped as if they were crippled, and even Ayala started to cry and squeak as she reached the cart.

The black slave’s plight could now be plainly seen, uncovered by the stocks panels. Her dark body was covered with countless scars and burns. A long, heavy, steel rod was pierced through the meat of her ample breasts, pulling them down. Her nipples pierced horizontally by a rod, which stretched them forward by resting on a small conical armature that seemed screwed in her areolas. The nipples were stretched to nearly five centimetre long. Below her breasts, each rib bore a wide ring pierced through her flesh around the very bone. This formed a double line of steel that went done to the bottom of her ribcage. A similar set of rings was inserted in her back, from the bottom of her shoulder blades to the last of her ribs. Two rings were pierced behind the two tendons framing the crook behind each of her knees. A large ring was also inserted behind each of her Achilles’ tendons, dragging on the floor when she walked. Her crotch was incredibly deformed. As she hobbled to the cart, heavy rings were beating the middle of her thighs, dangling at the end of grotesquely elongated labia. They must have been stretched for a very long time to have reached so wide a span. They were held curiously wide apart. This was due to her sex, that was gaping wide, unnaturally wide: a corkscrew-shaped rod of steel had been shoved into her vagina, stretching it permanently to a diameter of seven centimetres. A similar device adorned also her rectum. Both orifices were discharging constantly a yellowish, sticky, disgusting substance.

Aurelia followed them in the same hobbled, shaky, screaming fashion. At every step, she had the impression that her feet were going to be torn apart. She could see the needles moving and shifting in with irregular shakes as her metatarsian bones moved around them. The pain was shooting high up her legs, making each new step a nightmare. She was suddenly wondering how she would be able to walk the whole race. Eventually, All four participants were on the cart.

Kelly jumped onto it and the runner drove out of the cell. They entered a short corridor with several doors on both sides, all of them closed and locked. At the end of the corridor a harsh sunlight was awaiting them. They passed under classic portcullis and arrived into the Arena. It was around 10 o’clock in the morning. The sun was shining brightly and radiated extreme heat. The heat was reverberated by the golden sand covering the ground. The Arena was big, twice as big as usual sport coliseums. It had no roof. The spectators were sitting around in seemingly comfortable seats, all of them had sunshades and many were drinking or eating. Naked slaves were crawling around them, offering their sexual services or simply used as footrests. High in the air a huge plasma screen showed the whole perspective of the Arena.

Each spectator had been given a small plastic bottle with a funnel appendage. During the race, the spectator could masturbate and cum into the bottle. Alternatively, he or she also could urinate or spit in it. The bottles had an empty label designed to bear the name of one of the racing slaves. During the race, slaves would be collecting the bottles and pour them into one of several tall, graduated, glass cylinders standing at one end of the arena. The name and a portrait of each concurring slave was above each cylinder and the bottles were emptied into the one corresponding to the name written on its label. The cylinders thus served to measure the popularity of each slave. A mostly unknown or average-looking one would have a mostly empty column. A famous runner would have a high level of liquid in her column. A whitish colour would tell that the content was mostly sperm, indicating that she was liked by the public, while a more yellowish shade would be the sign of a hated slave. At the end of the race, each of them would have to swallow the full content of its cylinder.

Right in front of the slaves was the track itself, which was close to the side wall so that the spectators had a clear view of every happening. The other side of the Arena was empty. It seemed that the morning races attracted less visitors. A white band was laid across what represented the start-line. Flat sand followed, around fifty meters long to where the pool of melted fat was sparkling in the strong sunshine. The stone hurdle was at least one-meter tall and it was as wide as the pool - around five metres, the rear section of the track remained hidden behind the hurdle but the girls could hear barking.

A big wooden chest and four, black balls around the size of a soccer ball were waiting in the sand. The balls had long and heavy chains attached to them. There also was a big backpack whith  a flexible hose ended in a pistol-like device: Kelly's burner.

Two cameramen were waiting for the slaves along with a spectacularly beautiful woman. Aurelia recognized her immediately; she was Jennifer, the mascot of Ashagen's local TV channel. Kelly slapped the slaves' ass and forced them to climb out of the cart. Once they were all down, it rolled away, leaving a yellow cloud of dust behind it. All the slaves were standing in a line, grimacing and contorting their feet whose soles were now burned by the scalding hot sand.

“Hello Darling!” Jennifer greeted, smiling wide.

“Good morning Jennifer! You've surprised me! I thought you would emcee the evening races today” Kelly replied.

“Well... I wanted to have a sleepover, but the Arena manager called me: someone has put a big bid on this race so we had to come and broadcast” the beautiful girl answered.

“Big bid? I wonder if this redhead attracted such attention!” Kelly barked and slapped Aurelia's ass again. “New meat.”

“Yes, I should have remembered her, she is new... and looks very agile...”

“We'll see... I've seen several 'great talents' collapsing after the first meters.” Kelly answered.

Jennifer discussed with her companions while Kelly lined up the girls. Ayala, Joyce, Aurelia and Anet. Kelly dragged the balls closer and attached their chains to the girl's cuffs. She opened the chest and removed something.

“Here we go girls, the race will start in a few minutes so we must finish the preparations! The snacks are ready!” she smiled, holding the thing high in front of the slaves' eyes. All of them - even Ayala - stared with pure terror at the thing. It was a severed human hand chopped at the wrist. It must have been a female hand as it was slender and the nails were long. The hand was smelly and greenish and was slightly rotten; it looked as if it had been severed days ago. A long chain was fastened to the sticking bone at the wrist and the chain ended in a ring.

“Open wide!” Kelly ordered and Ayala obeyed, insanity reflected in her eyes. Kelly attached the chain to Ayala's tongue ring and stuffed the hand into her mouth, the fingers were pointing towards Ayala's throat. Kelly stuffed it deep with strength until she was satisfied. “Bite on it!” she ordered. The black slave did, sinking her remaining teeth into the soft flesh. The chain was hanging down to Ayala's navel. Once again, Ayala was under the pitiless sun bathing the arena. Her half-dried eyes could only see it through a blurry haze but she viscerally knew each of its features. She had lost the count of the races she had already ran in this infernal place. Each time it seemed it was going to be the last, that she could never make it to the finish line. But always she had found in herself ignored sources of strength that had allowed her to continue and sometime beat her opponents. Those sources of energy were far from being gallant. They consisted of fear, hate, jealousy, anger,… In her first races, her goal had been to win. Now, burdened as she was by her piercing, wounds and soreness, she just hoped to finish the race. She knew what happened to those who could not keep up with the other participants. They were condemned to the final arena, where the torture had no limit anymore. And if she could avoid being the loser, it would also save her from the atrocious task of foot licking she had already been through so many times. The thought almost made her heave and spit the hand shoved in her mouth.

As she was trying to force her painful eyes to distinguish what the track was going to offer, her distended anus let out a loud fart, which was reproduced by the loud speakers and caused a burst of laugh in the spectators rows. She had lost all control over her lower orifices, throwing her in the lowest pit of humiliation.

The second hand was offered to Joyce, who looked at it with utter horror and disgust.

“Please... I can't...” she started but Kelly stroke her in the ribs and while Joyce was gaping, Kelly took a grip on her tongue, pulled it out, chained the hand and finally stuffed it with a mighty push into the blonde girl's mouth. “Bite on it! Harder! Come on bitch, bite! Gooood.... for your own good, do not let it fall!” she grinned and removed another hand from the chest, stepping to Aurelia.

“You know the method. Stick the tongue out!”

Aurelia opened wide her mouth, resisting her disgust. She felt her tongue yanked out and its ring snapped to the chain. Then the rotten hand was shoved in her mouth. The foul taste almost made her to puke. The sheer idea of what it was, was enough to make her retch. The taste and touch were even more difficult to bear. She closed her eyes and clenched her teeth. Her fangs pierced through the soft flesh with a sickening sound and a rivulet of nauseating juices dribbled in Aurelia’s mouth. Again, she had to fight the urge to spit out the sordid morsel. But her fangs were holding it well, which might prove useful in the race to come. As she regained some of her composure, Aurelia felt the chain dangling between her breasts.

Anet was the last who had to bite on the smelly thing. She was too terrified to resist and almost willingly let Kelly hook her tongue and finally stuff the severed hand into her mouth. Anet was retching and crying but managed to keep the human limb in her mouth. Kelly turned to Jennifer and nodded. The girl set right her summer outfit and raised her microphone.

“Good morning citizens of Ashagen! We're having a wonderful day and we're waiting for the beginning of another fantastic race here in the Pain-bringer Arena! You will see a classic Heavy Feet Race...”. The girl continued, explaining the essence of the upcoming entertainment.

Jennifer's introduction lasted a few minutes, giving time for Kelly to put on the sinister, gas-fuelled burner. She switched the device on, making emit a 30-centimetre-long, thin tail of bluish flames. When Jennifer's cameraman finally turned the camcorder onto the sweating slaves, Kelly walked along the row of trembling females, raising the flame level with their eyes, so that every girl had the chance to have a close look at the superheated gas-tail.

“Our first contestant is slave Ayala.” Jennifer got closer to the slaves and began the final introduction. “You should know her from her several previous races... yesss, her looks are testifying how many times she has screamed for us!” As she was saying that, she was playing with the heavy bar passing through the Black’s breasts, lifting it and letting it fall, producing a bouncing motion and a grimace of pain. “Poor big baby, it is said you're running your last race here!” Jennifer giggled and stepped to Joyce, the camera followed her closely. “We have Joyce here, a very pretty but already experienced slave. Look at her face, she obviously prefers other kinds of meat... Good luck Joyce, you will need it!” the pretty woman mocked the slave and turned to Aurelia.

“What a beauty! A first class slave in the Arena! Well prepared, trained and ready for screaming! She is said to be a professional Arena slave, so we should learn her name: Aurelia!”. As she spoke, the camera was zooming along the slave’s body, leaving not place unexplored. To Aurelia’s shame, she could see how her body was exposed on the giant screen overhead, cheered by the enthusiastic crowd. “Do not disappoint the spectators, slave! Our valuable customers want to watch maximum efforts from the runners!” Jennifer said before moving to Anet. “And finally we have Anet, a brand new slave of Ashagen. Skinny but we'd seen thin girls run like cheetahs, haven't we?” Jennifer nodded to Kelly who positioned herself behind the girls.

“Ready girls, at my sign you all begin to run as if you were being chased... which is very true I can say.” Jennifer giggled again and moved to the side. “Okay slaves, start your engines, your “Heavy Feet Race” is about to start! Ready... steady... RUN BITCHES!!!” Jennifer screamed suddenly.

Aurelia had been waiting intently for this moment and she did not lose a fraction of second as the signal was given. She pushed on her feet, sinking her toes in the sand and yanked on the heavy ball. Immediately a flash of pain exploded inside her feet as the needles grinded against her very bones. She clenched her teeth and the rotting piece of flesh that was filling her mouth poured more of its foul fluid into her throat and down her chin. This made her gag and retch but she managed to keep the cut-off arm firmly in place. She had been preparing herself to the pain but it was so much more intense now that she had to put all her strength into the effort.

Her arms were pulled behind her by the heavy ball, which was pushing a small wavelet of sand in front of it. To prevent the steel cuffs from digging into the flesh of her wrists, she had grabbed the chain and was pulling on it with her fingers. After a couple of moan-pulling steps she found an easier way to proceed. She yanked hard on the chain, forcing the ball to roll forward, bouncing on the sand. Aurelia could then use the slack in the chain to walk without having to drag the heavy weight with her tormented feet. This allowed her to move faster with the same amount of pain. She tried get to the end of the slack just before the ball had ceased rolling. It was indeed easier to keep it rolling than to pull it out of its sand nest each time. It took the young spy a dozen strides to perfect the technique. By then, she had gathered quite a momentum. It seemed almost as if the ball was actually pushing her forward. As she yanked on the chain, the muscles in her arm, thighs and calves bulged. Her face was a mask of pain and concentration; her eyes were focused on the stone obstacle in front of her. Each step extracted a short moan from her stretched mouth as her feet were torturing her so cruelly. Anyway, this technique immediately allowed her to take the lead of the race.

Ayala too knew the importance to start in due time and her right foot moved forward simultaneously with Aurelia’s. She too had grabbed the chain in her hands but she was pulling on it with all its body, braced forwards as the muscles in her legs pushed in the sand. Her broken fingers hampered jer from getting a firm grip on the chain, but she slid her intact fingers through chain holes and was able to pull on the ball. As she moved, her large breasts were swinging powerfully weighted as they were by the steel bar. As they bounced back and forth against her rib cage, her nipples were stretched upwards and yanked rhythmically on her pierced lips. The black slave was a very powerfully girl. In spite of all the tortures and abuses she had already sustained, of which her scarred body was an atrocious testimony, she had managed to keep her strength and willpower. As she progressed, her horribly distended labia were swinging and their heavy rings were bouncing against her thighs. Each new effort made her nether holes squirt a droplet of dubious fluid, which splashed on her straining legs or sizzled on the hot sand. Her dry, burning eyes barely allowed her to see, but she could hear the other slaves around her moaning and panting, and their chains rattling. To her despair, it seemed that, immediately on her right, Joyce was inching forward of her and that Aurelia was moving even faster. A scream of agony coming from farther on her right and neatly behind comforted her that she was not the last. Arching her back, she yanked harder on the heavy ball, trying to walk faster so as not leave Joyce taking too much advance.

Joyce was aware of the very first moment and she was prepared for Jennifer's scream. Joyce knew exactly what pain awaited her but she also knew what consequences would follow if she lost. So the pretty blonde snarled, sank her teeth deeper into the rotting hand and yanked on the ball behind her. The first strikes of pain that hit her feet were almost too much for her, but Joyce forced herself to take another step and another again. She measured her opponents, and knew that this time she would have to be even better than what she had been in her first race. Ayala was a wreck and Anet was too terrified, but the red-hair was so much different, she seemed so tough. Pain and pain again. Joyce peeked down at her feet, her red painted toes were covered with yellow sand, the shiny needles were moving slightly under her skin, deep inside her feet. The chains tugged against her nostrils and nipples, but the pain radiating from her pretty feet was almost beyond bearable. She grinned, making the rotting hand dribble more liquid into her throat. Pain... 'My God... give me strength... pleaseeee... let me win and escape.... I'm begging you....' Joyce prayed, moved one foot after the other, cried and panted.

Anet froze, despite her horrendous pain, the atmosphere of the Arena and the whole race thing were too much for her young mind to understand, believe or accept it. The cruel women around, the leather bitch Kelly and the pretty Jennifer were so unrealistic that Anet felt as if she was in a crazy dream. She had seen as the other three slaves started from the line and she was staring at their wiggling asses as they crawled forward with a truly handicapped walk, pulling the heavy iron balls, but her own legs did not move. Anet felt the foul juices of the rotten hand dribbling in her mouth, she had pain in her feet, around her mouth and in her breasts, but she was still unable to realize what was happening. But only for a very short time...

The camera zoomed on the mooning Anet as Kelly jumped to her from behind, Kelly's face was a distorted mask of anger and she aimed the flame directly onto Anet's round ass globes. High pitched screeches flew in the air as the girl jumped forward, screaming again to the top of her lungs as her feet were forced to take the inhuman pain caused by the diabolically inserted needles. Her jump yanked on the ball behind her and poor Anet almost fell back, but Kelly's second aim on her other ass cheek made Anet start the race.

Anet’s yelps were suddenly surpassed by noisy screeches and grunts. Ayala had been doing her best to keep up with Joyce but this was an unequal struggle. Although the Black slave was taller and stronger than the Blonde one, she was also much more heavily loaded. All the rings her skin and bones were carrying amounted of nearly 10 kilograms of metal; kilograms she had to support some of the most delicate flesh of her body. To her dismay, Ayala had seen Joyce gaining centimetre after centimetre, until she was leading her by half a metre. The heart of the poor Black was pounding hard in her heaving chest. She was doing her best to move her aching feet faster but the weight she had to carry was simply too much. The rings pierced behind her Achilles’ tendons weighed nearly one kilogram each and they kept dragging in the sand with each excruciating step. When her legs made an involuntary jerk, the rings bounced and crashed into the back of her calves, on a point that had become over-sensitive for having been beaten so repeatedly.

As the Blonde slave passed in front of her, Ayala felt her heart sinking. She did not want this race to be her last. Her survival instinct revolted to this idea, even though each race was so cruel and painful. She had to do something; she had to convince the crowd that she was still worth racing, that she could still offer a good show in the Painbringer arena. As Joyce was toiling in front of her, Ayala began to walk obliquely to get behind her. Then she stepped on Joyce’s chain, yanking her to a painful stop. Joyce let out a surprised yell as her ball suddenly froze in place. Ayala stepped once more on the chain, yanking the Blonde’s arms down and forcing her to her knees. Joyce's surprise turned to dismay and finally to fury. Her knees landed hard on the sand, bruising her skin and making the girl growl in her rage. Her ankles and toe-joints bended from the force of the falling and Joyce emitted horrible muffled screams as the needles scratched against her bones. She was in so much pain that for a moment she lost her orientation and became unable to resist or do anything, providing great advantage for Ayala who could keep on with her sneaky attack. Ayala kicked Joyce between the shoulder blades and trampled her, walking on her body, crushing it into the hot sand.

Joyce shook her body as Ayala's big feet trampled over her back. She turned her head aside in order to avoid suffocation in the sand, the yank tearing the rings out of her nipples. Joyce was screeching in a high-pitched tone and for her misery Ayala stepped onto her face almost immediately. A big, dirty, scar-covered sole curtained the sun and crushed her face deeper into the sand, and stroked her nose with a smell that was almost as bad as the rotting hand in her mouth. Joyce grunted and thrashed under Ayala's foot, making the Black woman lose her balance. Ayala's sole slipped on Joyce's sweat- and tear-covered cheek, her foot kicked in the air and the big Black slave fell onto the Blonde, landing on her muscular ass cheeks. The hollow rod in her ass was forced even deeper and also scratched Joyce shoulder where their bodies collided. The heavy bar transfixing Ayala’s breasts swung and bounced cruelly, making her to gasp in agony. Straddling her blonde opponent, Ayala was trying to keep her balance while she recovered from the shock of her fall. Her thighs were clasped around Joyce’s torso, the sweat of the two fighters mixing between them.

Rounds of applause filled the air of the Arena, as the huge screen followed their wrestling from a close distance. Jennifer stopped a few meters away and her girlish voice commented the suffering slaves' desperate fight.

“Oh what a sight! Look at that! These worthless bitches believe they are in a mud wrestling event!” she laughed and the spectators joined her.

Anet hastened her pace, the hot pain in her ass making her put great efforts into her movements. She saw how Ayala and Joyce fought and she caught up rapidly. She heard the hissing sound emitted by Kelly's burner behind and felt almost glorious when she finally passed her competitors. She managed to reach the second place! She was temporary safe from Kelly's roasting surprises!

Joyce felt more and more rage heating her heart. 'Stupid Nigger! Stupid, stinking cripple! Get off me!' she shrieked and thrashed against the panting woman. She tightened her muscles, ignoring the extreme pain in her feet and she propped her toes against the sand digging in with her toes and she kicked out. Her lean legs and strong body put up enough force to roll Ayala over. The black girl landed on her belly, crushing her huge, spiked breasts under her weight. Her face, unable to turn away because of the chains linking her lower lip to her nipples was forced into the sand. More dust entered the Black’s wide open eyes, which she was desperately trying to close. She squirmed in agony, trying to curl her muscular legs under herself to stand back up. Luckily the chains hadn't crossed each other so they were free to go. Both girls laid panting for a few seconds in the sand before Kelly finally arrived.

“Get up, bitches! Run! Run!” Kelly screamed before aiming the flame at Ayala's already tortured soles. Ayala shook, whined and jumped on her feet as fast as she could but collected another burn mark on her body. Blisters immediately appeared on her white soles, adding to her already pain-transfixed feet. The wounds she had received in the race where she had had to run on a mix of broken glass and salt crystals reopened, causing even more pain.

Joyce was granted some advantage by Kelly as she gained enough time to stand up while the blonde torturer was busy with Ayala, so when Kelly finally stepped to her she was almost ready to run forward. So thus when the hissing flame kissed her ass Joyce was starting the torture race again, pulling on the ball, and was heading towards the pool of fat. Ayala was on her left, hastening her pace too and this time she was far away enough to let Joyce suffer alone. Joyce looked forward seeing Aurelia's ass far ahead. The red hair had gained about twenty metres on her! Anet was stumbling a few metres ahead of Joyce and she was also monitoring Ayala's situation. Joyce had but one remaining chance of winning the race: if the dogs slowed down Aurelia sufficiently. Joyce grinned, cursed Ayala and all the sick perverts around as she collected her strength and went after Anet.

“The first-class slave Aurelia has just passed the 30-metre line! Her technique is quite unique, the other bitches should learn from her! She marches rapidly, what a sight! The innocent Anet is second but I doubt she can keep that position, her start was quite messed and only the struggle between the two other slave allowed her to reach her current position. Ayala and Joyce, our heroines, are neck and neck. I can see that Joyce's nipples were torn in two halves when the rings were ripped from them, and Ayala's mouth is also bloody. What an exciting sight, what a race!” Jennifer said, her voice filling the Arena.

Ayala was fighting hard to keep walking as fast as Joyce. But Kelly had known what she was doing when she burned her soles. This had crippled her definitely for this race. The Black girl succeeded in keeping pace over a few strides, but as the blisters exploded and filled with hot sand, the pain increased to a new level and she began to lose terrain. Her widespread ass let go a loud fart as despair invaded her pain-bogged mind. She was sweating tremendously under the hot sun and her sand-filled eyes were almost completely blind by now. She was now guiding herself mainly from the rattling of chains coming from Joyce and Aurelia’s efforts.

In the mean time, Aurelia was progressing relatively fast, considering the amount of painful implements that had been piled over her body. The nipple-to-lip chains were preventing her from looking behind her but, judging by what she could hear, she knew she was far ahead of all her opponents. Her mouth was already desiccated and parched, her nipples were throbbing in pain, but what was the most unbearable was the pain destroying her feet. Each step it seemed to her that her little feet bones were going to be ground to dust by the evil needles pinned among them. Only her rage to win could convince her to lift her feet again and again. Her clear body was soaked with her sweat as she toiled on the race track.

Soon she arrived by the pool of grease barring the way. Without hesitation, she stepped into it, feeling for the bottom with her toes. She sunk to mid thighs in the warm fat. Its contact provided some kind of soothing on her wounded feet. She began to glide rather than walk, forcing her way through the melted fat. This was very slippery and she did not dare to continue to use the technique that had been so efficient on the sand.

As she arrived to the middle of the pool, the heavy ball she was dragging behind her fell in the fat. The unexpected yank surprised her and destabilised her. She tried to recover her balance but with her arms chained in her back, it was difficult. Instinctively, she tried to lift her head, yanking hard on her nipples. Her lower lip was stretched down in the most hideous way and she was lucky it did not get ripped from her mouth. However the flash of pain was enough to break her concentration for a short instant. The yank on her lips forced her mouth wider and, as she bucked to recover her equilibrium, she fell hard on her knees. The shock made the rotten hand to glide out of her mouth and splash into the fat. With horrified eyes, Aurelia saw it sink under the opaque grease, pulled down by its chain.

Aurelia did not lose a second. She plunged her head into the fat that was now level with the top of her breasts. She fumbled with her face against the bottom, her fangs grinding against the stone, trying to follow the chain that led to the unthinkable piece of human flesh. At last she found it and managed to grab it in her mouth. She straightened up and her fat-drenched face broke the surface. She was now holding the severed arm transversally. Although this was less of an impediment to her breathing, this hold was also less secure.

This incident had made her lose precious seconds. Aurelia got back on her feet, her body dripping fat from her soaked hair to the rings of her crotch. She resumed her walk, now dragging her ball under the fat.

Joyce pushed herself forward, fighting with the extreme pain she was forced to endure. She was a teacher, a person of literacy who had refused all kind of violence during her life. She always wanted to be fair to anybody and believed in the power of charity. She had never been naive but purposeful, though she believed kindness was in every human being and everyone deserved a chance for proving his or her values. Her picture about the world had changed in the last weeks. She had been forced to change her perspective and she had to reappraise her own place in the world. She used to be a girl living in a rich country, had a nice flat and lots of friends around who made her life a never-ending party. Since she had arrived to Ashagen she had become a slave, a worthless piece of human flesh without rights, without solidarity, without any future. She had been transformed into a wild animal whose only purpose was to fight and stay alive. And Joyce had discovered totally different depths of her own heart and mind. She had learnt in days how to be selfish, how to be a fighter, how to live in the jungle of continuous torments and horrors. She had lost the rest of her humanity, she had been taught to be a pusher whose goal was to win. Joyce had to win if she wanted to avoid extra punishments and additional pain, so she snuffed the former human feelings in her and became what her owners wanted her to be: a fighter slave.

Joyce whined and screeched against the rotting hand in her mouth, sank her teeth even deeper  into the soft flesh and slurping in the sweet tasting liquids but the foul taste did not make any sense for her anymore. She wanted to win, she wanted to avoid any pain that might be waiting for her if she failed to defeat the other bitches. She used to be a teacher but had paid great attention for keeping her body in shape, she had trainings four times a week; jogging, swimming, gymnastics. She was strong and she was resolute enough to ride herself forward despite the inhuman pain in her pretty feet.

Anet's joy of getting to the second place slipped away as the pain in her feet grew larger and larger. She tried to walk in different manners, keeping her feet forward, at different angles and even tried to make tiny hops, which proved to be a very bad idea. The hop was painful enough to make Anet shriek into her stinky gag, but when she finally landed onto her feet and the iron ball yanked her arms back her knees buckled and the poor Anet almost fell. She screamed out loudly, the hand fell from her mouth but Anet paid no attention. She stopped and cried heavily. She was actually babbling like a baby. High above, the plasma screen closed onto her contorted, suffering face and trembling figure, and dozens of spectators switched to a faster pace of jerking off their own cock or fucking the faces of their personal slaves as the sobbing girl fuelled their sadistic lust.

Joyce passed by the crying Anet and she focused her eyes on Aurelia's ass globes as the redhead wandered into the fat. She almost shout when Aurelia fell into the fat, Joyce forced herself to fasten her pace even more. Her feet were big globes of burning fire, snot was leaking from her nose and dripped, saliva drooled from the corner of her mouth and some of her fingers were seized with cramp as she pulled on the ball's chain even tighter. She tried to ignore the pain, all she saw was Aurelia dipping in the melted fat, and her very chance to win the competition. Joyce knew exactly that once she could reach the red head, she would have to be rough and cruel. No matter what could be the consequences, she would have to hurt the other slave. Despite her pain she surprised herself how clear her thoughts were. The dogs on the other side. The fat-covered body of Aurelia. The stairs that must be slippery. Aurelia must have pulled the ball after her, step by step... Joyce knew she had to reach Aurelia before she could jump between the dogs...

Aurelia had now reached the end of the pool and she was trying to climb onto the first step of the stone staircase. With her arms chained behind herself and her body covered with dripping grease, this was no easy task. She had pulled the heavy ball so that it rested against the wall. She shook her head and shoulders, sending fat droplets all around from her matted hair. She was trying to free her eyes from the fat that covered them. She bent over and laid her torso against the warm stone. She yelped as the touch revived the pain in her pierced nipples. Her face too was pressed against the stone as she could not turn it away. Then she swung her right leg out of the pool and tried to push it as far as possible on the first stair step. Her toes were wiggling helplessly, as if they were looking for some hold to grasp. Deliberately, Aurelia began to pull her left leg up while rolling her body carefully. This was very tricky as her oiled body tended to slide down the stone. She had to start again three times before she managed get all her body laying on the stone. She kneeled up, facing upstairs, and began to hoist the ball out of the pool too, while struggling not to glide back into the pool again.

Meanwhile, Ayala was toiling forward, dragging the heavy ball behind her. Her mostly blind eyes could not tell her what was happening to her opponents. It was almost as if she were alone with her pain and her terror. But she knew she was not alone. She knew, she had to prove that she was good enough to play once more in this arena. It was a pity to see her strong, powerful body struggling in the hot sun. Among all four slaves, she was the most athletic, the strongest, the tallest. She was probably twice heavier than the trembling Anet, and all the weight was pure muscle. From the way her limbs bulged and struggled, her strength and willpower were obvious. Still, the innumerable tortures she had been through in all the races she had survived to were slowing her down, crushing her into the dust. In spite of that, she kept limping forward, and each painful step made the numerous rings pierced through her flesh to swing and glisten in the pitiless sun.

Kelly was closely following her and was finding great pleasure in whispering into Ayala's ears: “Yesterday a nigger just like you was fried in the Snuff Arena... you can't imagine how much body fat can be melted out of a meaty body like yours! She was crawling around on a very large metal plate heated from below. The sizzling grease that was bubbling on the pan with her prevented her from staying on her feet for long. It was such a sight to see her slipping and falling and getting back on her blistered feet repeatedly on the sizzling plate! I love roasting a Nigger: rosy blisters stand out so much better on black skin! It took her more than one hour to give up. I saved a roasted breast of hers; after the race you will be fed on it if you lose...” The woman was teasing Ayala and sometimes aimed the bluish flame to her ribcages for short seconds.

Anet's desperation totally overwhelmed her. She didn't want to move anymore. She didn't want to fight, she didn't want to suffer. All she was wishing for was waking up from that horrible nightmare in her student hostel room. Everything seemed to be so unrealistic, so nonsensical. But her pain was real indeed. The burn marks on her ass formed large blisters. Her feet were throbbing but at least, when she stayed in place, the pain wasn't beyond bearable.

“Pleaseeeee... sob... my God pleaseeee... sob... I'm begging you please... sob...” she was crying wildly and loudly, her pitiful pleads and whining could be heard clearly among the spectators. Laughter and mocking arrived from their ranks.

“Move bitch!”

“Stupid cunt! I've put hundred bucks on you! Run you worthless turd!”

“Look out, the nigga' is right behind you!”

But Anet was unable to move or even to understand the meaning of the shouting. She stood there like a statue and cries were shaking her young body. Ayala approached her more and more, and Kelly also positioned herself behind Anet. The blonde sadist's face was an intense mask of pleasure. The almost blind Ayala finally reached Anet's line, who turned her face towards the pitifully crawling Black and let out a renewed, terror-fuelled scream. The contestants were less than two meters apart, and Kelly licked her lips. Black ass, white ass... Which one was going to be burned the most?

Although Ayala was almost blind, she could hear Anet’s moans and vaguely distinguish what was happening. This weak girl will not survive more than a few races, she thought. She is too scared, to sensitive. Still, if Kelly motivates her well, she is able to out-run me. I must make sure to cripple her enough to leave her no chance at all. With these thoughts in mind, she closed the distance that still separated her from Anet. As she arrived just behind Anet, she kicked her knees into the crook behind those of Anet. Taken by surprise, the shrieking girl fell down at Ayala’s feet. Ayala knelt by her side and fumbled with her hands until she managed to grip one of the Blonde’s feet. She grasped her big toe and began to bend it backwards, determined to break it.

Anet let out a shrilling scream. Laying on the hot sand, her body in permanent pain, there was not too much she could do. But as her dainty toe was grabbed and bent into a highly unnatural position her misery grew beyond inhuman. Not only because her the tendons holding the toe were stretched to their limits not to mention the bones, but because this aggressive attack made the needles cross some bones and cut deep into the sensitive tendons inside her foot too. Anet was screaming loud and long with a wide open mouth, she struggled against Ayala's firm grip, tried to kick but that was all she was able to do. Anet's toe was forced backwards until it was fractured with a crack, and the young Blonde's scream reached another level. Anet had healthy lungs, she used to sing in her high school's choir so her terror and pain-filled long wailing fought high and filled the Arena.

Ayala stopped her movement as soon as she heard the sickening crack. She could feel the thumb toe getting slack. In her previous races she had seen other girls getting their toes broken and she knew this made the foot almost useless. She hesitated to break the toe of the other foot but then decided against it. This poor wreck is done, she thought. She will never find the strength to walk again and will be forced to crawl if she wants to progress at all. And trying to grab her flailing leg will just make me lose more time.

With that, Ayala worked herself back on her own pain-wracked feet and continued to walk. She never admitted defeat. Maybe the Blonde and Red bitches would kill each other, allowing her an improbable victory. She had seen that happening countless times in the arena. She continued, dragging her sore feet through the hot sand, her large breasts bouncing their heavy spike back and forth while their nipples pulled hard on the black lips, revealing the rosy gum flesh.

Anet stayed screaming in the hot sand, her big toe pointed in a clearly unnatural angle. She was babbling loudly like a baby, lost in her nightmareous reality. Kelly waited for a few seconds, devouring on the ultimate suffering radiated from the thin blonde. With her free hand she rubbed her pussy and sucked the finger licking her own juice.

“Get up bitch! Get up and fight!” she shouted into Anet's face finally, spat onto her lips and aimed the flame onto the convulsive girl's left thigh. Renewed shriek shaked the air and Anet tried to crawl away from the brashly standing Kelly, but the woman easily followed her pitiful strugglings and sooted a long line on anet's tight ass with the flame roasting flame. Poor student was screaming and screaming, the spectacors sitting near awarded loud applause to Kelly who smiled charmingly and even made a deep bow to her audience. Kelly's face showed ecstasy and happiness, she really loved her work.

Meanwhile Anet managed to climb onto her feet but with the needles embedded, her toe broken and even several spots of her body burnt poor Anet had no chance for getting back to the competition. Kelly sniggered and burnt Anet's shoulder from behind, and the blonde made a crippled step forward while she was screaming and screaming. She almost fell, the foot with the broken toe was unable to hold her weight. But Kelly did not take care of that and burnt Anet's right thigh from behind, making the screaming girl move forward another short step.

Joyce grinned; the muscles in her neck were bulging. She bent her waist forward and let her knees bent before every step causing increased pain but hastening her pace even more. She peeked up, monitoring Aurelia's desperate efforts as the tall woman tried to climb on the stone stairs. Joyce could imagine herself reaching Aurelia, spitting out the rotting hand and sinking her teeth into the Red-head's ankle, closing her jaws around Aurelia's Achilles’ tendon and dragging her back into the pool of fat. Yesss! Aurelia's peds must be hurt, must be fractured! Joyce had already lost a lot, her nipples were ruined and she was too much worried about their condition to think over what could have happened to them. At least her mouth was not chained to her chest anymore letting her move more freely. She almost smiled. Aurelia failed to climb onto the stairs again. And Joyce was getting close.

She entered the pool, sinking slowly, gliding her feet on the bottom. She used the correct technique almost instinctively, keeping her balance, staring at Aurelia who had finally managed to roll onto the first stair and was kneeling up. Joyce could see that her opponent was almost blinded by the fat dripping from her hair. Her ears were probably covered with a layer of fat too. Joyce slid forward and the pain in her feet almost knocked her out. She felt as if a thunder stroked her, but she managed to proceed. She opened her mouth and let the rotting hand fall into the fat. All she could see was Aurelia's ankle in front of her eyes, at the level of her abdomen. Aurelia’s feet were off the stair, above the pool. She hoisted her ball out of the fat, producing a low smack. Joyce almost was almost running out of time, but finally Aurelia's vulnerable heel was right in front of her. Joyce shrieked loudly. The high-pitched banshee scream was the clearest expression of her fighting rage. She bent forward, opened her jaws ignoring the pain in her nostrils and ears, and aimed her bite right at Aurelia's ankle.

Aurelia froze for a very short moment, taken aback by Joyce's war-cry. It came from too short a distance. Her momentary passiveness proved to be a major mistake. Joyce closed her healthy teeth around the sensitive tendon and tried to sink her teeth into Aurelia's skin. But the Red-head's foot was slippery from the fat and her teeth slipped not even scratching the skin. Joyce boggled for a moment and she desperately tried to bite into Aurelia's foot. Finally her teeth found their grip but not a tendon or even meat but on the skin of Aurelia's heel. Her teeth closed together, as they were pinching, pulling the skin at the very tip of the ankle. Joyce also lost her balance and started to fall back, but she kept her mouth closed, drawing blood and dragging on Aurelia's foot. For a short moment both girls froze in their position, and only a small chunk of skin held Joyce from falling back into the pool.

The wound was superficial but it was painful. Aurelia, with her back turned to the action and with fat filling her eyes could not see what was really happening. It felt as if her heel was being torn away. Aurelia’s first movement was to turn her head to look at her attacked. Immediately, this sent a tearing pain in her nipples and lips as the line tugged on her sensitive flesh. Unable to look at what was actually happening and feeling the pain in her foot increasing, she kicked her leg violently. She felt Joyce’s nose creaking under her heel and she heard her desperate scream  as she fell into the fat. Aurelia started to grin victoriously when she felt herself gliding down the stone she was kneeling on. Her kick had been too forceful and it had broken her precarious balance. Desperately, she tried to recover it by bending forward and shuffling her greasy shins frantically. But it was to no avail. Relentlessly, the gravity was pulling her backwards down the angled stone, her oily skin providing no grip on the smooth surface. With a cry of rage, she fell into the fat pool, pulling her ball with her.

Splashing warm grease around, she landed on top of Joyce, just as she was fighting back to the surface. Joyce was pushed back below before she had a chance to gulp some air but she managed to avoid being crushed by the heavy steel ball. Aurelia was decided to maintain her advantage. From the rage she had heard in her attacker’s scream, she knew this was going to be a no-quarter fight. By the way, attempting to climb back on the stairs with that fury behind her was not an option. She had get rid of her! Unfortunately, she was at a disadvantage: even if she let fall the rotten hand from her mouth, her hooked lips did not allowed her to bite hard, something Joyce was obviously able to do. This left her with only her feet to fight, feet that were almost paralysed by the needle-induced pain.

Aurelia could feel Joyce struggling under the surface. She fumbled around with her legs and managed to grab her opponent within the powerful grip of her strong thighs. She crossed her ankles to put more pressure, squeezing Joyce’s mid-section between her legs. Meanwhile, she jerked her bound arms frantically as she tried to stay upright with her head above the surface. Her plan was to keep Joyce below until she passed out.

To Aurelia's disappointment the fat proved to be too slippery. No matter how desperately she tried to strangulate Joyce's body, the Blonde somehow managed to wiggle around until she had some place. Joyce was fighting for her life. No thoughts were forming in her mind, her desperate struggles were her death dance. She had no air to breath, her hated opponent wanted to drown her into the pool of fat. Without coordination or plan, Joyce started to kick around, forgetting about the chains still attaching her lips to her nose and ears she shook her head as if possessed by the devil, kicking into the stone under her and using the power of her strong legs to push herself away from Aurelia's trap. With a final kick she managed to slip out of the grip and to swing away from Aurelia. Her head emerged from the fat about two meters from her opponent and Joyce coughed and puked immediately, gasping for air and heaving strongly. She was blind and deaf but her life instincts made her crawl further. She wanted to leave the pool, to regain her breath, to rest and pull herself together. She wanted to live even if this meant to lose the race.

“My Holy God! Ladies and Gentlemen! All of you who've chosen this show this morning must bless the choice! This is fantastic! I've never seen such a race, not a competitor got through the stairs but we've already seen three beautiful duels!” Jennifer followed the events from the line and she was screaming almost hysterically, like most empathized sport reporters. The audience also enjoyed the show; several slaves were being dragged out from the ringside already as their masters had fucked their throat until the women passed out. The slaves whose duty was collecting the spectators' sperm and urine bottles had enough work to run around like mad ants, and the cylinders at the end of the track were filling fast.

Aurelia’s eyes were starting to get clearer as the fat was slowly dripping from her face. She saw Joyce fleeing, obviously scared by the violence of their fight, her tongue pulled behind by the chain that linked to the rotten hand that she had spit before the fight. Aurelia herself was panting hard, fat and saliva drooling from her gaping, curled-lip mouth, around the hand she was holding transversally. Aurelia suppressed her hunter’s instincts that wanted her to chase after the wounded prey. It was hardly a smart thing to do. Even if she could beat her easily, a bad wound was always a possibility. By the way, she could see Ayala approaching the pool too. She had obviously got rid of Anet, who was squirming in the sand farther behind, stimulated by Kelly’s flame thrower. The Black fighter, in spite of all the cruel steel shining on her dark skin, looked formidable. It would be safer to stay out of her reach.

She looked at the stone stairs. If she was fast enough, she might get back on the stairs before Joyce could come back. Even the Blonde dared to do it anyway, now Aurelia would not let herself been taken by surprise. She bent again her torso against the stone, flattening her proud breasts against the fat-covered step and swung her leg over it. She wiggled a bit and soon was once again kneeling on the lowest step of the staircase. She grabbed the heavy ball and hoisted it, inch by inch, until she could land it at her knees.

She heard a splashing sound behind her and slowly turned her shoulders and face to see what was happening. Joyce, having seen that Aurelia had managed to climb back out of the pool, was progressing again toward her. Behind her, Ayala had just jumped into the pool and was toiling toward the obstacle as well, a ferocious determination on her incredibly tortured face.

Aurelia felt safe now. She stood back on her feet and grimaced as her full weight once again rested on her needled metatarsians. The pain was coursing up her nerves, almost paralysing her legs up to her knees. She did not know how long she would still be able to bear this breath-taking throbbing. Nevertheless, she fought hard and moved her feet, climbing slowly and prudently the few stairs that led to the top of the stone obstacle.

The Blonde and the Black slave met right at the stone obstacle. Joyce was still terrified, and also she still had some fierceness in her. The bad experience she had had with Aurelia made her review the right strategy. 'Here's the Nigger again... she is so tough... so strong... those legs...' Joyce looked into Ayala's eyes and tried to smile, which proved to be very hard with her tongue pulled down by its chain and the rotten hand.

“Lhook... if whe fhight... whe both lhose... but if whe chatch the rhed-head... shecond phlace the whorst...” she tried to explain her idea to the half-blind, seemingly blood-thirsty, once-resolute girl. “Nhothing to lhose! Yhou've phunched bhack Ahnet! Lhet's khnock the other thoo!” Joyce spoke in a highly inarticulate voice and was hoping she managed to convince the tortured Black. She needed Ayala if she wanted to defeat Aurelia, and after they got over the Red-head she could still outrun the Black.

Ayala considered the proposal. This bitch is right. If we fight now, we are lost but if we cooperate, we still have a chance to win. Once the Red-head out of the way, it will be easy to me to beat this Blonde to a writhing pulp. And if I win this race, I might be allowed to run another one.

“OK” she nodded. “He’p me c’imbing here, and I’ll he’p you”. She rested her torso on the greasy stair. The spike and the numerous rings pierced under her ribs rattled against the stone and she grimaced as pain coursed through her body. She wondered how she might be able to climb this without help. She tried to swing her leg over the stair, as Aurelia had done, but her leg kept gliding backward, finding no purchase.

Meanwhile, Aurelia had reached the top and immediately the barking of the little dogs got frantic. They were whirling and hopping at the foot of the one-meter high wall, looking at the dripping, naked body of the young spy. She looked coldly at them. She had never liked dogs, and she had but contempt for this kind of little, noisy devils. But the idea of having to jump among them, bound and tortured as she was, was frightening. She did not know if she would be able to stay standing as she landed hard on her tortured feet. But she had a plan.

She dragged the heavy ball until it was resting between her feet and half-squatted over it. Then, with a spiteful grin at the Terriers, she pushed it over the edge. The ball fell and broke the back of one of the dogs under its weight. Immediately, the confusion grew among the frantic canines and they move away from the killer ball and their whining, dying companion. Once they felt at a safe distance, they began again to bark and growl towards Aurelia.

The young Red-head, sat down on the top of the stone wall. She took a deep breath and let herself slide down. As she landed on the sand, it felt as if the needles pierced in her feet had exploded the little bones apart. The agony flashed in Aurelia’s head and she feel forward on her knees. With her arms chained behind her, she was unable to keep her balance and fell further, landing on her chest, flattening her breasts under her torso, her face pressed in the sizzling sand. She grunted, waiting for the pain to lower in her throbbing feet.

At first, the little dogs had kept a safe distance from Aurelia. The death of their pack mate had scared them. They were used to face helpless slaves, not fighting-back furies. Aurelia was squirming in the sand, trying to swing her body backward to kneel up. She was squatting on her knees, her torso and face buried into the sand, growling and moaning helplessly. The dogs began to realise that, after all, this girl might not be more dangerous than those they were used to. The hardiest among them began to get closer. Aurelia was still grunting and contorting her arms and butt, trying to lift her chest off the ground. The dogs turned around her and gave short, scared licks at her fat-covered legs. Feeling that the dogs were getting hardier, Aurelia managed, with a powerful yank on her back muscles, to straighten herself and sit her bottom on her heels. The dogs were barking and whirling around her.

The girl’s front was covered with sand sticking to her fat-layered skin; her mouth was spitting and drooling sand, her face was grimacing with pain. She looked exactly as all the other slaves the little dogs had seen. She was holding a juicy piece of rotten meat in her mouth and they knew how delicious it was. Feeling encouraged, the dogs jumped at the poor, suffering girl. Aurelia tried to chase them away, contorting her legs and her shoulders, pulling cruelly on her nipples in the process. But the little devils were swarming around her, jumping from all directions. One of them grabbed one end of the rotten hand and began to growl and to shake it frantically. Before she could knock it away, another clenched its teeth on the other end. Two dogs were too much for her sore jaws. She could not close her mouth completely, unless she wanted to tear her nipples or lower lips. She felt the rotten hand being torn from her teeth. She let out a desperate scream as one of the dog managed to steal it from its competitor and run away with the piece of meat. The chain unrolled on the sand and yanked hard on Aurelia’s stretched out tongue. She yelped and jumped to her feet, screaming and gagging.

She ran after the dog holding her by her tongue leash. The dog was zigzagging madly as it tried to avoid its mate who wanted to rip its juicy prize from its jaws. Aurelia had never ever felt so much pain than what she had to endure during that deeply humiliating and even more torturing run after the dog. Her tongue was pulled extremely from her mouth, she had the feeling of hearing the root tearing slowly as the little dog yanked on it every time it changed direction or even turned its head. Combined with the throbbing pain in her feet that were forced to step faster and faster, Aurelia got a clear picture of what Hell actually was.

The two dogs fighting for the rotting hand must have been the leaders of the pack as several other little demons ignored their competition and the ten little doggies focused their attention onto Aurelia's body and mainly onto her feet. Warm, dipping fat... they found it extremely delicious. Two or three terriers attacked Aurelia's feet; they wanted to lick and slurp instead of bite into the flesh, but as the girl was forced to follow the dog holding the rotten hand, those around the girl had no other choice but to jump against Aurelia's limb again and again. Whenever a small dog made a long lick along her foot or another jumped against her delicate peds, new waves of pain shot through her body so intensively, that after a few seconds Aurelia's pain tolerance reached its limit...

Back to the obstacle, Joyce had manage to push Ayala’s huge black body onto the first stair. Ayala was trying to get on her knees without slipping back into the pool, helped by Joyce who was bracing to keep her in place. Her wide-stretched anus and pussy were dripping the greasy fat down her thighs. The rings pierced at the end of her elongated labia kept ringing against the stone. Eventually, she managed to sit on the second step of the stair case.

“You’ tu’hn now” she said.

Joyce followed using the same gymnastics. Ayala was helping her as well as she could, using her feet and legs to prevent the Blonde from slipping.

Joyce did her best to climb the slippery stone as fast as possible. She never forgot the pain for a moment, but she had a quite clear picture of what degrading and painful acts would happen if she did not beat her competitors. Even the winner was forced to bear extreme acts between the races, but knowing her master, Joyce had no doubts about how angry the man would become if something did not fit his requirements. So she grinned and forced herself to cause pain to her own body. Ayala's strong, muscular legs helped her in fulfilling the hard task, and Joyce got a really close peek at her opponent’s extraordinary muscles. Although the black skin was covered with hundreds of different marks received during Ayala's time spent in Ashagen, the muscles and tendons under the skin were still intact, and their powerful struggling as the Black held her legs for Joyce, made it clear to the Blonde. The roughly-treated slave was still tough. Joyce was breathing hard and with some badly aimed movements she caused pain to Ayala - whose face contorted every time that Joyce touched her feet. After some struggling, Joyce climbed on the stairs too.

Finally, both girls were standing on the stairs, hoisting their balls towards them. They carefully climbed the remaining steps to the top of the stone wall. From there, they could see Aurelia who was still chasing the dogs that were yanking on her tongue chain. She was running doubled over, her tongue stretched incredibly far out of her gaping mouth, her breasts bouncing madly as she tried to keep pace with the little barking devils. The pack was moving randomly across the arena but Aurelia was obviously trying to coax the dogs towards the finish line. Sometimes she managed to lead the dogs towards the finish line - by taking the risk of making her tongue ripped out as she held her body against the chain - but the playful doggies often changed their route, fighting for the rotting hand so Aurelia had to follow them; she had no real influence on what was happening.

As the two slaves appeared on top of the wall, all the dogs that were attacking Aurelia’s legs suddenly left her alone and hurried towards the obstacle. They new that new rotting meat was about to be served and they did not want to miss it.

Ayala was still holding her hand firmly shoved longitudinally into her mouth. She had good hope to be able to keep her hold on it. If the dogs did not catch it, she would be able to walk straight toward the finish line. She looked at the poor Joyce who was still dragging her rotten hand behind her, hooked to her tongue.

“Let’sh go!” she barked and she jumped down the wall. She landed hard on the sand and the pain seemed to made her feet burst in pieces. Screaming to the top of her lungs, she curled into a ball and rolled onto her shin. She tried to protect the rotten hand from the attack of the dogs. Little of it was visible out of her wide-stretched mouth and the hungry canines could not reach it easily.

Joyce was almost sick from the sight of Ayala's landing. Her pitiful shrieks and Aurelia's desperate fight against the little dogs brought doubts whether she would survive that race. She knew that she would be unable to avoid the pain of landing, but she somehow had to avoid that tongue pulling exercise, as her tongue already hurt like hell from the long stretching that the hand had caused. Thanks to her desperation and creativity she soon found the best solution. She bent her knees, positioned the stinky human hand right between her legs and started to swing it only a few centimetres above the stair. When the hand swung behind her body Joyce bent her knees even more so the hand just landed under her fingers, near the iron ball. She squatted down and reached out whit her long fingers, trying to grab the hand. While she was trying to bring her fingers lower and lower while trying to keep her balance and avoid falling back, her heels raised a bit. The high-pitched screams made by some spectators turned from Aurelia and Ayala towards Joyce. The Blonde had to drop back on her heels and gather some strength before she could try again.

Her second attempt was successful, and Joyce blessed God and herself for having long nails. She managed to pinch a small piece of rotting skin between the nails of her fore and thumb-finger, she could raise the whole chain-weighted hand a few centimetres but that was enough for her to grab it with her other hand. She rolled the rotten hand between her palms until she felt the grab really secure and strong. She stood up.

The camera zoomed on the squatting girl and every spectator inside the Arena got a clear view of what Joyce was doing. A pretty, blonde woman squatting on the top of a stone wall and desperately clenching her fingers on a disgusting, smelling, rotten human hand... several spectators burst into laughter at that sight.

Joyce had lost the chance for grabbing the ball's chain behind her and the hand's chain was hanging between her legs, which might cause further problems. But at least her mouth was free for inhaling as much oxygen as she could. She opened her mouth and started to scream as she jumped. Her scream became even more intense when she landed only a few meters behind the still tottering Ayala, and Joyce was the first of the three slaves who managed to keep her balance and avoid falling. She screamed and screamed, her face was a mask of pure agony but her strong, young legs and feet could keep her standing.

Joyce shook her head and shouted to Ayala.

“Move! Get her, move!” she screamed and then both girls tried to head towards Aurelia. But the swarming little devils had just arrived and they leaped at both women, seeking for the hands and licking off the fat from their feet. Joyce screamed again, she tried to keep her hands as high as she could but the dogs could easily jump that high. So unlike Ayala, Joyce had to deal not only with the dogs around her feet but she also had to endure the sharp scratching of the predatory teeth as the dogs tried to tear the hand out of Joyce's grip.

Joyce clenched her fists as hard as she could, digging her fingernails deep into the soft flesh. There was nothing else she could do but heading forwards and hoping that she would be able to hold the rotting hand as long as needed to reach the goal. She screamed in pain and also in anger as she began to walk, fighting every movement against the raging little demons.

Behind the stone obstacle, Anet was impelled to walk forwards by Kelly's infernal blowtorch. The Blonde torturess was becoming angry as Anet was so slow and  shiftless. The Arena's rules were clear, she was allowed to burn only the slave that was the last of the race. She would have found much more pleasure in roasting the shapely curves of any of the other three slaves but not that whining little piece of shit. Kelly was disappointed; Anet's lack of fighting spirit simply disgusted her. She hated Anet because of the girl's weak mental and physical attributes. Kelly loved fighting slaves who were struggling against their inevitable fates and did their best to win.

“MOOOOOVEE YOU LAZY BITCCCH!!! MOVE YOUUUUR WIZENED CUUUNT!!!” Kelly shrieked like a banshee as she switched the tail of flame between Anet's ankles. She aimed the flame to whichever ankle that was behind, making Anet jumping from foot to foot as if she was a galloping pony. Kelly's torch formed blisters soon on the back of Anet's heels and around her Achilles’ tendons. Anet was wailing as she was jumping in a funny way, and the spectators were grateful for that sight, showing the sign of Victory to Kelly who smiled back to them. So Anet was impelled to keep up her pace and reach the pool of fat. Before she could step into it Kelly grabbed her neck and shrieked into her ear.

“DO NOT DARE TO STOP IN THAT POOL, BITCH! IF I NEED TO GO AFTER YOU, YOU WILL REGRET YOU'RE EVER BORN!!!” she threatened Anet and pushed her towards the pool. And poor Anet waded into the pool of fat crying, with heavy steps.

Ayala had managed to keep the rotten hand firmly inside her mouth, in spite of the dogs’ yanking at it and licking of her face. Once she had somewhat recovered from the shock of the landing, she forced herself to stand up, shaking a dog that had climbed upon her back. It frantically tried to stay on her, curling its paws in the rings pierced around the Black’s ribs along her back. More vigorous and painful shaking made it fall, yelping in frustration. Freed from the little devils, Ayala began to toil forward, dragging the heavy ball behind her, bracing on her pain-transfixed feet. Her dark skin was glistening with sweat and grease as she struggled under the hot sun. Her muscles were bulging as she earned every centimetre with more pain, sweat and blood. Her half-blind eyes seemed focused on the finish line, still so far ahead. She could barely see where Aurelia was, but the barking of the dogs where leading her.

In spite of the pain throbbing in her whole body, she kept walking, surrounded by a horde of little dogs. The distance between her and Aurelia was closing as the poor spy was painfully yanked by her stretched tongue. But suddenly Ayala was stopped short in her track by a lightning of agony in her crotch. One of the little dogs had just found one of the rings dangling at the end of her grotesquely elongated nether lips, and it had grabbed it in its fangs. It was now yanking on it playfully. Ayala’s legs began to shake as the pain overwhelmed her. A long, coarse moan escaped her muffled mouth. She fell to her knees and her heavy boobs bounced under her, weighed down by the spike, until her pierced nipples touched the hot sand. The dog kept pulling at the ring, stretching the labia even further, growling all along.

Joyce had to take a decision: Helping Ayala or running towards the finish line? The Black girl was suffering on the ground, surrounded by a pack of hungry, aggressive dogs. She could see that as dog was roughly pulling about Ayala's extremely stretched labia, while other dogs attacked the woman's face, fighting for the dead hand. Joyce was shocked. She had to fight against her own dogs too, her feet, ankles and shins, not to mention her arms and wrists were bleeding from the numerous attacks done by the hungry dogs, but what she was seeing made her retch and puke.

The little dog yanking on Ayala's horribly tortured an unnaturally extended pussy lips had succeeded and the Black's flesh started to stretch beyond its natural limits. Long, red slits started to appear around the middle of the thin labia and soon the flesh began to tear.

Ayala screamed to the top of her lungs while contorting her arms and fingers in a vain attempt to protect her pudenda. The pain between her thighs was driving her crazy with pain, destroying all her concentration.

Meanwhile, two other dogs attacking Ayala's face managed to bite deep into the rotting hand portruting from her mouth and they fought against the woman's teeth, yanking the hand out of her mouth. Ayala's hoarse screams was too terrible to listen but Joyce had no choice but to listen and watch. One of the dogs also bit a small chunk out of Ayala's mouth and lips, and when the two dogs ran away with their trophy dragging the chain behind them, Joyce could see that they also torn off the tip of Ayala's tongue. Blood poured from the wounded Black's mouth and when the chain finally stretched again her mutilated tongue, the root of the chain was ripped through the remaining of Ayala's tongue. The poor Black vomited blood and as her mouth was free to open she screamed out in such a loud and horrible voice that Joyce's blood froze for a second.

Joyce just had passed Ayala and was staring at the pitifully moaning, bleeding woman. She thought that Ayala had finished her race. But, to Joyce’s utter surprise and terror, Ayala opened her blind eyes and shook her body. Despite her terrible condition, she forced herself onto her knees. Blood was pouring from her mutilated mouth and from hear half-torn labia, but the Black slowly stood up...

In the mean time, Aurelia was desperately trying to follow the dog that was yanking cruelly on the chain hooked to her tongue. Whenever the pets where heading away from the finish line, she tried to scare them in another direction but they rarely felt concerned by her frantic roars. The young spy felt as if her tongue was going to be torn from her throat. But she knew very well that the tongue was a strong muscle, not that easily dealt with. The two dogs kept leaping at each other as they tried to rip the rotten hand for themselves. As they fought, they ate bites of decomposed flesh from it.

At some point, as they were struggling together, each one pulling in a different direction, Aurelia managed to come close enough to get some slack in the chain. She had been looking for that opportunity for long, cruel minutes. Instantly, she stepped on the chain, pinning it into the sand. She was now once again controlling it, while the dogs where fighting and yanking on the hand at the other end. She began to fight with them, trying to kick them with her other foot. She yelped in agony as this brought tremendous agony in her tortured feet. But she knew she had to do it. She could see Ayala and Joyce coming her way. The two seemed to have concluded an alliance and Aurelia felt that she would have to fight them both if ever they managed to reach her.

She knelt down, trapping the tongue chain under her left knee, bringing her face at the level of the dogs. Then she began to fight with them with the same weapons: her fangs. The dogs were not used to such attacks from human beings. She bate one of them in the middle of its back, making it to yelp in pain and surprise. She tore a bit of skin and hair from its back before letting go. The pet flew away, whining, terrorised. Aurelia turned to the remaining dog and bate it as well, producing the same reaction. She spat hair and blood and crouched over the rotten hand, which was now covered with dog’s saliva and sand. Without losing a second, she sank her fangs into the putrid flesh and got back on her throbbing feet, the hand once again held transversally in her mouth.

Joyce was walking away from the zombie-like Ayala. She was too much terrified, she was too much shocked. She could see that Aurelia had finally freed herself from the attacking dogs and had got back the rotten hand into her mouth. Joyce could never have hoped that she could run so long while the dogs were tearing at her hands and fingers. She was bleeding and sweating but the finish line was getting closer and closer. Joyce was praying and hoping that somehow she might be allowed to overrun the grotesquely mutilated Ayala, the strong Aurelia and somehow reach the finish line in first position.

Jennifer was standing on the sideline, between Ayala and Aurelia and talked fast. There was too much happening to cover everything. She was glad that she had been dragged out of her bed so early. The show that those bitches were giving was beyond her best hopes.

“Slave Ayala is wounded, but she is free from her tongue-chain. She is freed from her tongue, to be specific! She is about 10 metres behind Aurelia who is leading the race. The slave Aurelia has just intimidated the dogs - I've never seen anything like that - and she is trying to find her balance again. The slave Joyce is somewhere in between her opponents; she's dragging her ball in a very uncomfortable way and I can see that her hands are bloody red from the continuous doggie attacks, but she also seems very determined. Who will win this fantastic race? What a fight!”

Aurelia was dragging on her ball as fast as she could. The dogs were leaving her alone by now. They had learned the lesson. They had turned themselves against less dangerous preys, swarming around the Black and the Blonde. This was giving her and advantaged over them and she was decided to make good use of it. She could hear Joyce’s panting and Ayala’s moaning but she kept focused on the finish line, which was now almost in reach. She looked deeper into her body and managed to gather some extra energy. She walked faster; actually, she was almost jogging now, yanking on the ball to keep it rolling behind her. The distance between Joyce and her increased. Finally, with a scream of victory, she crossed the finish line. Exhausted, her feet in a marmalade of agony, she spat the rotten hand and let herself fall on the ground, on her back, panting hard, her proud breasts heaving up and down on her chest.

A couple of black-leather clothed, muscular men arrived to the panting slave. One of them kicked a dog in the head as it was sneaking too close. They grabbed Aurelia's shoulders and dragged the girl towards the end of the Arena, where the glass cylinders were standing already filled up with different amounts of yellowish, whitish liquids produced by the horny spectators. Aurelia had to pull her legs under her body as the rough dragging made the needles in her feet to knock against her bones and caused extreme pain even though the race was over for her.

The spectators’ attention was now entirely focused on the duel between Ayala and Joyce. Actually, there was little suspense now as the Black’s strength was obviously bleeding out fast. Each of her steps seemed to ask more energy from her. Her feet seemed heavier and heavier and the pain caused by the nasty needles was now almost unbearable. Ayala began to stagger. Her footing was unsure, she was badly limping. Realising she was weaker, the dogs gained in audacity and fierceness, leaping at her, biting her calves and thighs with their tiny jaws.

Joyce realized two things. One of them was delightful but the other was very bad. Ayala's condition and her desperate fight against the little demons made it clear to Joyce that the Black was no more an opponent. That was good. She would have felt pity for the horribly mutilated woman, but Joyce had no other choice but to concentrate on her own misery. She saw Aurelia crossing the finish line and falling on the ground. The bad thing was that Joyce had lost the race. She was shocked again, because she had quite clear a vision of what her owner would prepare for her. She felt terrified but the aching pain reminded her not to stop. Pain, even more pain was awaiting her after she returned to her sadistic master, but beyond the finish line some temporary relief was to be received. She cried and forced herself to push her limits, heading towards the line. And the line was getting closer and closer.

Way behind along the race track, Anet had somehow climbed over the stone obstacle where Kelly was awaiting her, thrusting out her breasts and swinging the flame-thrower's shaft in front of her. She smiled at Anet with a predatory grin and raised the shaft's end where the bluish flame was burning.

“Should I help you some more or do you know what to do?” she asked and Anet surprisingly knew her task. She headed towards the finish line, where Joyce had just fallen on the ground, exhausted, panting. Some of the dogs that were busy with Ayala's body realized there was a new target and began to run towards the terrified Anet. All of them sidestepped Kelly. They had learnt a long time ago what was the difference between a helpless slaves and the proud woman holding the burning shaft in her hands. A small pack of dogs attacked Anet all at once, striking her feet, ankles and the rotting hand hanging between Anet's legs, at the end of her tongue. And Anet started to scream and scream again, her tongue was stretched out of her mouth within a moment as three dogs started to fight for the tasty, soft human limb. Kelly just walked to the side line; she knew exactly that for a while her role was over.

Meanwhile, Ayala was abundantly drooling rosy, bubbly saliva. She was getting completely disorientated. Her madly swinging and bouncing breasts, stretched down by the heavy spike, seemed to yank her down at each step. She lifted was not lifting her feet anymore: she was dragging them through the sand. Each step was a renewed battle against her pain, her exhaustion and her fear; a battle that she fought with decreasing hope. The little dogs were driving her crazy with pain. Her tired, excruciating feet stumbled and she fell, face first into the sand. Immediately the swarm of little dogs jumped on her body. The dust filled her mouth, her nostrils, her burning eyes, making her completely blind. She found the strength to lift her torso, relieving some of the pain her breasts were feeling, crushed as they were under her chest. She dragged her right leg under her to stand up, but a terrier found it funny to grab her Achilles’ tendon ring and yank on it. Her breast spike was preventing the Black wreck from rolling over. She contorted her body in a half circle, trying to scare the little dog from her foot while kicking it with her free leg. The dog ran away with nerve-exasperating yelps. The canine swarm was whirling around her, barking excitedly at her. She shook her shoulders and, in an ultimate bounce of energy, succeeded in getting back on her sore feet.

She was now completely lost. She turned around from left to right and right to left, trying to determine where she had to go. Her sand-filled, burning eyes were now useless. She heard distinct moaning and rattling of chains and started to walk again in that direction. Alas, Joyce had passed the finish line while Ayala was still struggling with the dogs. She was now resting on the floor, immobile and silent. The sounds that the black slave was now following were produced by Anet. She was walking in the wrong direction! Each painful step was now increasing the distance to her goal, at the same time as it was sucking her energy. And all the while, the dogs kept whirling around her, ensuring she would have no chance to realise her mistake.

The dog that had stolen the rotten hand from Anet began to run, and the poor girl had no other option but to follow the speedy little devil, shrieking at the top of her lungs as her tongue was almost ripped out, as her burnt feet were forced to take the internal pressure and sharp pain radiating from its interior not to mention the pain caused by her broken toe. She was jumping mainly on one foot instead of running, but at least she was producing the fastest movement since the race had started. Anet was in too much pain to be able to realize anything but, led by the fighting dogs, she was running towards the totally blind, tottering Ayala.

Anet managed to keep her balance for a surprisingly long time, but finally she lost her step and fell onto the ground with a loud bang, next to Ayala. She was screaming pitifully and as the dogs did not stop at all, the chain tightened to its maximum. Anet's tongue was stretched out from her mouth as far as it was anatomically possible, the plasma screen showed that inhumanly agonizing moment, when her tongue reached its maximum length. Anet's screams were so high-pitched that they were more squeaks than screams. The little dogs were yanked backwards when there was no more stretching possible. Sick noises of tearing muscles were gurgling out of Anet's mouth, and suddenly her tongue was ripped in two halves, the hook piercing her flesh having torn itself through the flexible flesh.

Ayala sensed that someone was screaming next to her in the sand. And her pain-crazed, hopeless, haunted mind could figure out only one way out of her distress. There was only one chance for her to avoid being the ultimate loser... She also realised that she had been walking in the wrong direction. With nobody to indicate her the direction to follow, she understood that she would need Anet’s eyes to guide her. She crawled towards the young, whining Blonde and tried to grab the chain connected to Anet’s ball.

But gone was the proud Ayala of the beginning of the race. By then, she was still able to impose respect to a frail Anet. But now, she was just a blind, exhausted, suffering wreck and even Anet was not impressed anymore. The pain throbbing in her broken thumb toe was reminding her that Ayala had showed no pity to her when her roles had been reversed. Anet, now freed from the embarrassment of the tongue chain, and in spite of the dire pain in her wounded mouth, managed to get on her kneels. The blind Ayala was just behind her, holding her ball chain in her deformed hands. The Blonde fumbled behind herself with her bound hands, found Ayala’s breast spike and grabbed it.

“Leave me alone now, you Nigger!” she growled while twisting cruelly the spike. Ayala’s breasts were stretched around, one up and the other down, pulled by the painful bar. She screamed and immediately let go of the chain. Her widely stretched, uncontrollable anus let fall a turd and she collapsed on the ground, moaning. Anet stood up on her throbbing feet and turned around the Black suffering body. She was presenting such a pathetic spectacle. The muscle monster, the proud woman was reduced to a writhing heap of suffering flesh.

Anet grabbed her own ball and lifted it off the ground.

“Remember what you did to me, earlier?” she asked, a mad grin on her delicate face.

Ayala shook her blind face, unable to defend herself, unable to see what was happening, utterly defeated by the weakest of all the opponents she had faced during her career as an arena slave. Then Anet let her ball fall from 30 centimetres high, right upon Ayala’s toes. The helpless, defeated Black arched her body, screaming to the top of her exhausted lungs. Anet did it again, and again, hearing the sound of tiny bones been crushed to a pulp. Finally, once she was sure that not toe was left intact, she got out of her violent fury.

“See you in the loser cage, you Nigger!” Anet said as she walked towards the finish line. She was now sure that the Black could not outrun her. With no more delicacy to hope for, many of the dogs were now fighting each other for the remnants of Anet’s rotten hand and tongue. The remaining ones, ignoring Anet, were swarming around the helpless Ayala, gnawing at her crushed toes.

As Anet headed towards the finish line, Kelly was getting closer to the new last girl of the race, her blue flame glowing happily. Finally she was going to have some real rough flesh to burn.

Joyce had crossed the finish line, and this was one of the happiest moments in her young life when she could finally fall into the sand and the attacking dogs were kicked away by the masked guards. She was also - just as Aurelia - dragged towards the glass cylinders but Joyce felt relief after the vicious dogs were left behind her. No more scratching against her bleeding hands, no more pain in her throbbing feet. She raised her feet in the air while being taken by her shoulders.

Anet followed them and soon she reached the line, winning the third place. She started to cry again from happiness. Her dumb, young mind did not realize the consequences of being only the third. All she could think about was that the burning and never-ending pain in her feet were finally over.

Meanwhile Kelly stepped to Ayala and the Blonde's beautiful face was contorted in cruel, sadistic lust. Kelly loved to torture black meat. She was not only heartless and depraved but also racist. As she approached the whining, blind woman, the dogs ran away. They knew very well the demonic faced beauty and her hissing flamethrower so all of them preferred to retreat from the wounded piece of living meat. Kelly looked on Ayala's body and licked her lips. She wanted to leave Ayala in a condition that would make it possible to race in the Final Screams Arena, but she was also burning with the desire to torture her and make her inhumanly suffer.

“You have lost, Nigger! You have fucking lost, you have become the worst of all and have your body ruined beyond usability. You have no value anymore! You're just a piece of crippled, wounded, bleeding shit! You're nothing, no more a woman but only stinking black body, totally useless! I know your Master very well, and as after this lovely race your market value became zero dot zero, he will surely do me a little favour. You will participate in the next Frying Pan race and will die there suffering the most horrible fate human can ever face! But you have some more tasks to do till then. Losers must receive their punishments! Ohhh... I've almost forgot, you're not yet a loser. You will only become one after crossing the finish line. Only twenty meters... but what a long time you'll need to get there! CRAWL!” Kelly mocked and threatened Ayala finishing her monologue with a loud shout. And Ayala's nightmare with the most degrading acts possible went on. Kelly kicked Ayala's ass with the pointed tip of her high heels, and aimed the flame to that spot where her kick had landed. Ignoring the Black's pitiful protests she kicked her again on her bruised thigh and burnt that spot. And Ayala forced herself onto her knees - twisting her muscular body like a snake - and tried to crawl away from the hysterically laughing Kelly.

“CRAWL BITCH, CRAWL!” Kelly shrieked and kicked Ayala's ribs making the rings to clang. The flame kissed the black skin and Ayala screamed, gargling on her own blood. The needles were still embedded deep in her feet, every bone in her toes were broken so even crawling on her knees made every centimetre painful beyond human limits. But the hellish kisses of Kelly's flame were even worse, and Ayala totally lost her senses. All she wanted was to avoid the burning pain, to slide away from the heat; she wanted to die, to make the suffering over. But Kelly had quite different plans for her. It was easy to shepherd the whining, screaming, vomiting Ayala, she was reduced to the level of the simplest living creatures. She crawled always to the opposite direction from the last burning came, and Kelly found great fun in coaxing Ayala towards the finish line. She burnt her back, shoulders, ribs, thighs, shins and soles multiple times. Several of the spectators stood up and cheered for both Kelly and Ayala, loud applause, laughter and mocking shouts could be heard from the ringside.

And Ayala finally made it; she crawled through the line, blind, not even realizing what had happened. Round of applauses shook the Arena when she finally fell into the sand, panting and squeaking, her muscular body was trembling in total pain and total exhaustion. Kelly made a low bow towards the spectators and smiled as if she had just won an Oscar award.

“And Slave Ayala made it finally, the race is over!” covered Jennifer the happenings. “I must tell you, this was one of the best races I've ever witnessed in the Pain-bringer Arena! All who stayed at home should feel sorry for missing this fantastic competition. It was obviously the last race here for an old slave, who retires as an ultimate loser. We've met with a totally worthless slave, who should be displayed in a snuff exhibition in the main square. But we also met two worthy slaves, Joyce and Aurelia, who both gave us a great show. The winner slave, Aurelia, seems to be a great talent, or I risk saying, the greatest talent for a long time. I'm pretty sure we'll see her in a dozen of upcoming races! Let's see the epilogue, when the participants have to face their popularity containers!”

Ayala was dragged by her arms towards the cylinders where her three adversaries had already been strapped. They threw her limp body on a large horizontal tree trunk. Her wrists were strapped on each side of it, above her head, while her wrists were similarly strapped so as to stretch her, facing the sky. A fifth strap was tightened around her forehead so as to prevent any movement. Finally, a cloth peg was clamped on her nose, flattening her flaring nostrils and forcing her to breathe through her mouth.

All four slaves were similarly strapped tightly on tree trunks, her face below their respective cylinder. The glass tubes were about two metres above their face. A flexible hose ending in a wide, pear-shaped, hollow dildo hanged from them. Aurelia’s and Joyce’s bottles were mostly white. Anet’s one was of a transparent yellow shade, while Ayala’s was a mix. All four cylinders were full, amounting to a five-litre content. The dildoes were forced into their mouths and strapped in place. Four cameras were closing in on their anguished faces. Then Kelly opened all cylinders.

Immediately the dubious liquid began to pour down the hoses. Aurelia felt it entering the back of her mouth and pressing downwards. The pressure was too high to do anything. Moreover, she was terribly aware that she would have to swallow the full content before being allowed to breathe again. So she put herself to the foul task of gulping down the sticky, nauseating fluid. She gulped and gulped, her eyes fixed on the cylinder above her. Her stomach was soon filled with the smelly sperm and started to flow back up her throat into her mouth and nostrils. All openings being hermetically sealed, and as the pressure was not lowering, her stomach began to distend, her belly to swell. Pain was now added to the anguish of air deprivation.

All four slaves’ bellies were bloated grotesquely, filled with the foul gifts from their spectators. Still they kept swallowing more eagerly, as if it was the most delicious brew they had ever drunk. At last, the cylinders were emptied. Aurelia took several deep breaths, relishing the fresh air filling once more her burning lungs. Still she felt sick and nauseous. Her belly was bloated as if she was four-month pregnant and she felt the urge to puke it all. She vomited a bit but as it filled her mouth, her breathing once again was cut. She hastily drunk it all back and now devoted all her attention into keeping it down.

The four slaves were left there for 15 minutes, until they all had learned to control her vomiting reflex and most of their beverage had left their stomachs to fill their bowels. Only then were the poor exhausted slaves freed from the trunks. Kelly began to pull out the needles from the tormented feet, she used pincers, grabbed the tips and with fast, powerful yanks she freed the feet from the pain-generating simple tools. She did that with six feet, but two remained fancied with the needles. The losers' fate.

Kelly stepped to the horribly tormented Black girl, she barked a command and one of the guards forced Ayala's mouth open by grabbing her fat lips. A quite big portion of her lower lip was missing just as the tip of her tongue, both wounds were still bleeding slightly though the thick lawyer of whitish cum coating salved the bloody holes. Kelly held the red hot nozzle of her torch to Ayala's lower lip, the hot metal sizzled and some smoke emerged. Ayala squeaked and tensed against the guard but she was held tightly. Kelly repated the process on Ayala's tongue, cauterizing the wound, stopping the bleeding and causing almost unbearable pain to the heavily mutilated and mentally destroyed slave. Puffs of smoke raised from the girl's mouth and while she was screaming with fluttering nostrils small puffs of smoke found their way through her nose too. Finally the masked guards placed a wide choking collar once again around Ayala’s neck. The loser’s collar as it was nicknamed. The same one they had all experienced before the race.

As soon as it began to constrict the Black’s throat and windpipe, she opened wide her mouth, begging for something to be shoved in her throat to allow her to breath. The guard comforted her by shoving the handle of his whip far into her throat. The thick leather object stretched her tissues so that, when the man yanked it off, some air was allowed to pass. Ayala took several deep breaths. As her throat constricted slowly under the pressure of the collar, her breathing got more hissing and laboured. One minute later, she was strangling once again and begging for release. The guard laughed and this time he shoved a long, hollow, wooden dildo down her throat. This one allowed the miserable girl to breathe freely.

“Now, I advise you not to lose your little friend, if you don’t want to die a slow, horrible death” he mocked, tapping gently on the end of the dildo. “Now, let’s go to the slave pits. I believe their feet need a thorough washing.”

“Go Tony, start the punishment! I will find you and take the remains of the hands with me, between two feet Ayala will surely like eating something not only licking dirt.” Kelly said to the guard before she turned back to other three girls. Big mugs of warm fat were waiting for Anet and Joyce. After litres of cum and piss their stomachs were still to be challenged.