Chapter 3.1 ~ Jasmin's first race.

 

When the officer put her arm out to stop us, the Puppy-boy dropped onto his 'paws' and stood there, looking up at the naked parts of mine and Zena's bodies.

"Mohsin, I hear you're still top dog," the guard said.

"Of course. There's no competition."

"What are you hauling this morning?"

"Fertilizer to the roundhouse, then spreading on plantation four."

"You should be back by twelve then?"

"Probably."

The guard's attention turned to me. "Who's the raw bitch you've got there?"

"Came in last night as a replacement for Farah. Name is Jaz."

She pointed at the Puppy-boy. "Look, Javid's caught her scent..." She was having trouble holding him back. "Can he have a taste?"

"Feeha, maybe later. I must plough on. You know the gangmasters are on my back. It's going to be a busy day."

"All right..."

She didn't seem happy when Mohsin flicked the reins to urge us forward. I felt that the guard fancied Mohsin and he was trying to evade her attentions. I was also perturbed that he might let the creature 'taste' my sex later in the day. For once I was grateful for the dildo plug buried deep within my quim.

There were several sections to the old building. It had been built, maybe a century earlier, to serve as a warehouse complex. The builders made it look like a residence from a distance by adding fancy brickwork around the roofline. We passed three openings with loading bays where several wagons had been steered backward to be loaded. However, we were heading beyond the main building to an open-ended shed.

Inside were huge stacks of bagged goods on pallets, sitting on a concrete floor. The metal studs on our boots click-clacked as we walked onto the solid surface.

"To the right," Mohsin shouted and tugged on the reins. "Park behind the South wagon."

We pulled up leaving about a yard of space in front of us. The six-foot-high stack of fertilizer bags was on our left and about six feet away. A lad dressed in a thawb was loading bags into the bed of the wagon in front, having lowered one of the sides. He dropped one in the wagon and jumped down.

"Mohsin, you're still in the hot seat, I hear..."

The two lads met beside me. "Yes, and I'm going to make sure we win this week."

The lad patted Mohsin's upper arm. "Ha, you stand no chance. I hear you've got two raw bitches over the weekend. Mine are bedding in nicely. Your days are numbered pal."

There was obviously a lot of kudos attached to being the head lad of each yard.

The South lad turned and placed his hand on my shoulder. "I see you're giving this raw bitch a runout..." He dropped his hand to my left tit and gave it a squeeze. "She looks fit..."

"Since when were you an expert on fitness?"

"Since I beat your ass two weeks running. I've got good teams and my raw bitches have settled in nicely." He hunkered down and wrapped his hands around my left thigh.

I almost moved with the shock of having hands laid on me. then being examined roughly by the lad as if I was an animal. He ran his hands up and down my thigh, then up again and pushed two fingers into my furrow.

"Lafiz, are you deliberately slowing me down?"

"Huuu," I complained when he mashed my ridge with a hard forward stroke.

"The bitch is jittery, mate, and look..." He stood up and showed his glistening fingers to Mohsin. "...she's loving the dildo and the leather she's wrapped in. Give me a dry bitch every day of the week. Their concentration levels are so much better."

Mohsin looked at him doubtfully. "Bullshit. So far, I'm impressed with the bitch."

"I see you've got Zena working with her. If you've been impressed by the raw bitch, then..." He casually reached for my tit again but gripped my nipple first. "...you must be confident that you can give my two a run for their money."

"Who have you got pulling your wagon?"

"Maha and Nadia. I've rotated my girls this week, so these two are not my strongest pair."

"Give me three-to-one and you've got a race," Mohsin responded.

"I'll offer Fifty Riyal at two-to-one. First team to the roundhouse."

"Okay, you're on." They shook on it and then split up to load their respective wagons.

Each time Mohsin dropped a bag into the load space, I felt the downward pressure on the wagon's suspension. When Mohsin had placed 18 bags in our wagon, the lads checked each other's loads

The pair walked away out of sight for a few minutes. When Mohsin appeared, he was carrying a cooler box, which he placed in the wagon. After opening it, he arrived in front of us carrying a bottle of orange.

He faced me first and released the bit fastening on the side of my bridal, then withdrew the bit. "Ahhhh," I gasped in relief.

"Thrall, there will be plenty of energy drink during the day. You can have half a bottle now." He offered the bottle up to my lips and waited patiently for me to drink my half.

Unfortunately, he refitted the bit, returning me to an uncomfortable state. As soon as he had quenched Zena's thirst, he fetched a gauze hood and pulled it over my head, then tied it off around my neck.

"This will protect you from dust and give your face some shade." Because the sun was so bright, the loose gauze hood was most welcome. I could see without difficulty and get the protection I needed. Once Mohsin had fitted Zena's gauze hood, he climbed into the driver's seat and picked up the reins.

"Girls, back up, slowly." Pulling on the handles, we gradually backed out of the cul-de-sac between the stacks.

I felt pullback on the reins but wasn't sure what it meant because Zena was still moving. Switt! "Ugh," I grunted when he stung my left ass cheek with a diagonal slash, using the flexi end of the riding cane.

"Jaz, stand still," Mohsin shouted. I understood when Zena's efforts caused the wagon to start turning. "Okay, both together now."

With the front wheels at an angle, we were able to walk back and get the wagon in the correct position before moving forward. We turned, then after initially struggling to get the heavy load rolling, we broke into a jog and retraced our footsteps to the main gate. The 'S' wagon wasn't far behind us.

The guard waved us through, while the Puppy-boy sat beside her legs watching Zena's and my legs trot by. Mohsin flicked the reins urging us forward, but not faster. We didn't slow or stop at the crossroads, just jogged straight on toward the rows of date palms.

"Girls keep to the right. The race will begin when the South thralls are level with you."

I heard the Pony-girls boots pounding on the hard compacted sandy soil when they were level with our wagon, then gradually, they caught up until they were level. With our upper bodies leaning slightly forwards, four pairs of tits, jiggling in time with our strides were our most eye-catching feature.

"Are you ready?" Lafiz shouted from the other cart.

"Yes! GO!" Mohsin barked.

We both instantly responded to his command and the shaking reins. I had no idea of the distance that we were being expected to run, but I had spotted a building in the distance that could be the roundhouse. Basing my experience of jogging to the warehouse, I guessed it was a mile and a half away.

Zena and I increased our pace to a fast jog, the maximum sensible speed for that distance. We hadn't gone far when three factors came into play. The blazing sun was a constant enemy, the dildo was once again moving, and the load behind us was beginning to make its presence felt.

Then, an odd thing happened, the 'S' girls beside me slowly began to lean further forward. Switt! Switt! I heard the lad land the whip on his girl's bobbing asses. I flinched even though the whip was nowhere near me. Lafiz got the response he wanted when his girls upped their pace and began to pull past us.

"You're toast, Mohsin," Lafiz shouted over his shoulder.

I feared our driver was going to start using the whip as well, but he held off. He began shaking the reins. "Put your backs into it. I'm adjusting the running angle."

My natural instinct was to lean forward to pull against the chains, so when Mohsin adjusted their lengths, we transitioned into a bent running stance. To compensate, I had to stick my buttocks back and bend my legs more. The new stance definitely enabled us to put more effort into push/pulling the wagon and increase our speed.

It was a bizarre experience to be on the open road, with a running partner, racing against another pair. I was just about comfortable pulling the load at a normal jog. The weight provided momentum and so long as the track remained flat, I was confident I could keep going for at least 20 minutes.

But, despite our increased speed, we weren't catching the 'S' wagon which was almost a length ahead. My breathing was becoming laboured and the heat and effort were causing me to perspire; but my legs felt strong. Was I up to it or was I going to lose my first race in Saudi Arabia?