My Wicked Gladiators

by Hawkeye, Lauren

  I looked into eyes so blue, so pure that their gaze sent a shock wave through me.

  How could I have ever doubted that it was Caius?

  Slowly, slowly, he drew my loosely bound hands up my sides and above my head. He looped the rope over the sconce carved into the wall, then pulled the rope taut, securing my arms above my head, as if I was his prisoner. Being so much taller than I, he could reach the sconce without effort, and so kept his stare fastened onto my own as he bound me.

  As Caius slipped a finger between the rope and my skin, to ensure that it was snug but not too tight, I discovered that my secret desire to be bound had indeed sprung from a deep need. I did indeed like things being out of my hands, out of my control. With my hands bound, I could focus fully on my pleasure.

  When my arms were bound to his satisfaction, he lowered his head as if to kiss me. In the moment before his lips would have brushed my own, however, he turned away, choosing instead to place his kiss on the tender skin over my pulse, just below my jaw.

  I shivered.

  When he fastened his teeth there, just a light bite over that throbbing point, I was glad that I had the support of the rope, for my knees went weak. My nipples contracted, begging for touch, and my cleft became even slicker than it had been, anticipating this meeting.

  He continued down the length of my body, kissing with light strokes of dry lips, pausing to tease but not fully pleasure each of the most sensitive places—the tips of my breasts, the curve of my waist, the glove soft skin of my inner thigh and the equally tender area behind my knee.

  Now he knelt at my feet, and though he wrapped rope around my ankles with the same firm but tender touch that he had used on my wrists, I felt like a queen. Never before had I had such a man kneel before me. Even in the dark shadows of the room I could see the handsome features of his face, but it was not all because of his looks.

  This man had such strength, strength sculpted in every fiber of every muscle, that he could do exactly as he pleased with me. And yet he treated me with respect. No, with more than respect . . . with reverence.

  It warmed me to my soul, and I felt freer to be as I wanted, to do as I wanted.

  To explore every erotic fantasy that I had ever had.

  When he had finished fastening the ropes at my ankles, he reached for the rope above my head and, grasping it in firm hands, lifted until my feet left the ground. It was an odd sensation, dangling as I was, and it should have been uncomfortable, but he kept me in the air only long enough to spin me back around, facing the wall.

  I was awed at his strength. I was not a slight woman, and yet he had suspended my weight with seemingly no effort at all.

  Now I could see nothing but the cool expanse of veined stone right before my eyes. I turned my head to the side, desperate for a glimpse of my breathtaking warrior, but he stayed out of sight.

  There was a long pause, and to bear the suspense I tried to focus on the stripes that veined the wall before me. Pale green, sky blue, and rust, they threaded their way through the charcoal stone and blurred before my eyes.

  My hair was swept to the side, over one shoulder so that my neck was exposed. Hot lips pressed against my nape, and I closed my eyes against the feeling.

  Finally, finally I felt the press of skin on skin that I had been craving. Caius aligned the hard range of his body against mine, his front to my back, and pressed until I was layered between him and the wall. The warring sensations of his heat and the frigidity of the wall nearly drove me mad.

  He slipped a hand between the wall and my stomach, a streak of heat through the ice. He let his splayed fingers rest there, just for a minute, before they continued downward to the soft curls below. A single finger worked its way through folds that were already wet and found my clitoris. One touch and it was engorged, desperate for touch. He began to work that finger over my clitoris, that tender bud, circling around and pressing over. At the same time, his other hand moved from where it rested lightly at my waist, curving around to my back, then lower to stroke at that very soft spot where my back began to divide.

  My skin heated as my blood began to flow, hot and fizzy. I was rising up, floating on the very edge of a whirlpool of bliss when the finger behind me began to stroke lower.

  Pressing my forehead against the cold stone, I contemplated the sensation of pressure against the pucker of my ass. I had never been touched there before I had met my gladiators—never wanted to be touched there—and the sensation was still as foreign to me as this feeling of safety in intimacy was.

  But it felt . . . pleasurable. Decadent. Hesitantly I pressed back, allowing his thick finger to impale me, just the barest bit.

  The whirlpool overflowed, sending me into cascades of pleasure that seemed as if they might never stop. When I could again breathe normally, Caius turned me around yet again, though this time I stayed on my feet.

  Squatting easily, he undid the ropes at my ankles and let them fall away. As he stood, he pulled my legs around his waist until the heat of our centers was pressed together.

  I looked down. The head of his engorged erection was visible, pressed against the soft, flushed skin of my belly. The tip wept, and I longed to place my mouth over it and taste.

  But my control had been taken away. I could do only what he let me.

  Taking his cock in his fist, he angled it toward the wet entrance of my cunt. I longed for him to thrust, to slam home, but instead he moved slowly, surely, in a manner designed to drive me insane.

  He slid inside my wet channel so slowly that I felt every ridge, every vein of his skin as it was submerged deep inside of me. He began to move, his hips supporting my waist. I clung to him like a child to a mother, my face buried in his neck.

  I wiggled with impatience at his slow, methodical movement. Every glide of his thick cock on my inner walls was pleasure beyond words, but I wanted more. Needed to lose myself in the sensation. His thrusts started to quicken in response, tunneling in and out, my clitoris hitting his pelvis on every one and beginning to store bliss again.

  Taking away from my satisfaction were the ropes that still bound my arms. My hands were beginning to tingle with the start of numbness, sensation starting to flee from being so long above my head. I tugged at them fretfully, and found it both irritating and exciting that I could not free myself.

  Bracing me against the wall so that he need not stop his motions, the gladiator reached above our heads and, grasping the rope in one hand, tugged once, sharply. The rope snapped and fell, tangling in my hair.

  I did not care. I used my newly freed arms to wrap around his broad shoulders, massaging sensation back into them by stroking over the jut of his shoulder blades.

  I felt my thighs begin to tremble, and knew that another release was close for me, but before it could take flight he stopped, suddenly, and with one hand turned my chin until I had no choice but to stare directly into those intense eyes.

  “Is this what you truly want?” Thinking that he meant the orgasm, that he was teasing me, I replied in the affirmative frantically, rubbing myself against him with no shame.

  “No.” The seriousness in his tone made me stop, though it pained me to do so. I searched his face, then cocked my head in confusion.

  “I do not have to finish inside of you, if a child is not what you want.” His expression was solemn, even with the shadows obscuring his face. “No one should be forced to bear children, if that is not their wish. I would go against my dominus in this.”

  There was a vehemence in his voice that startled me, but I overlooked it as the meaning of his words set in. My insides melted, and the sensation overcame the nagging need to push against him until his cock was embedded as deeply inside of me as it would go.

  Pressing my face against his, so that our eyes aligned, I kissed him once, softly, so close to him that his features became blurred, but I wanted the nearness.

/>   “Thank you.” I meant it, more than I had meant anything in my life. “Thank you for giving me the choice.”

  He still did not move. I had made my decision, and with my back braced against the wall pressed against him as hard as I could, which forced his hard length into me as deeply as it could go. I gasped when he hilted, for his length pressed against my womb. But it was my answer.

  I wanted a child. And if it was his child, it would be a blessing from Juno, from the gods.

  He stayed hilted in me for a moment, a long moment, as if taking in what I had said. And then I had to use my arms to hang on for my life, as he began again to move. His thrusts increased in tempo, and a groan slipped from his lips. The pressure began again to build in me, as well. Soon I was all but lost, my face buried in his neck, my nose inhaling the hardworking, male smell of him—sweat and sand.

  This release was not gradual like the first had been. Rather it was an explosion, short and hard, and I screamed before I could stifle it. A few thrusts more and he collapsed against me, pressing me into the wall with his weight, a shout escaping from his own throat.

  Trembling, I clung to him, arms and legs twining around him, waiting for him to come back to himself. When he did, he again looked into my eyes, that deep blue burning bright, then pressed a kiss to my forehead.

  There was a sharp knock outside the heavily curtained door, and then Justinus was in the room. I screamed. I was mortified that the little weasel of a man was in front of me while I was in such a position, and even more so that he had intruded upon such an intimate moment.

  Before I could say or do anything, I found myself empty, set on my feet, and Caius had the smaller man by the throat, dangling inches above the ground. My mouth fell open a bit as I scrabbled for my discarded tunic. Caius looked magnificent, completely unabashed in his nudity. Like a statue, he stood sculpted, a vision of strength and fury.

  In comparison, Justinus looked small and weak.

  “You do not dishonor your domina with such behavior without consequences,” Caius continued. I was astounded and hurried to pull my tunic over my head so that I did not miss a thing.

  Caius shook the smaller man, who started gasping for air. After letting him struggle frantically for a long minute—just long enough to prove who was in control—Caius set him on his feet. Justinus puffed up like an angry bird, clutching at his throat and glaring at the gladiator.

  “How dare you.” Never had I heard a voice filled with such venom as Justinus’ at that moment. “Do you know who I am?”

  “Yes.” Caius was frightening in his stillness. “You are a slave. As am I. She is your domina. You will apologize.”

  Disgusted, Justinus opened his mouth, to argue, I think. But as he stared up at the huge warrior who could grind him into arena sand, he seemed to think twice. Turning to me—and I was now again clothed, though still mortified—he grimaced, though I think he meant it as an apologetic smile.

  “Apologies, Domina.” A sense of foreboding began to grow in my gut.

  Justinus would find a way to make Caius pay for this humiliation, I was certain. But for now he had no choice.

  “Your husband is due at any moment.” His words were stiff, angry. “It would be best if I were to escort this . . . man . . . back to the quarters now.”

  He seemed only then to realize that Caius was not wearing his mask. Dread filled me as I saw realization dawn, but he said nothing, simply stood, waiting for Caius to don the subligaculum that he had removed on the far side of the room, before I had even been in it.

  I noticed that he watched Caius very closely, almost . . . feverishly . . . as he dressed. But then the moment was broken, and both men stood at the curtain that separated this room from the rest of the world.

  With the cretin present, I would not have a chance for a farewell, then.

  Justinus pushed through the curtain. Caius made to follow, then hesitated a moment. I knew that what we had just shared had been something more than what it should have been, but I did not know what to say to address it. So I clasped my hands and looked at him, eyes large, drinking in the sight of him.

  “Domina.” His voice was soft, and he nodded once. Then he pushed through the curtain and was gone.

  It was not until after he had left that I realized I still had not asked either him or Marcus about their relationship with each other.

  I resolved to ask first thing, the very next time that I had one of them alone.

  CHAPTER TEN

  It had been nearly four full weeks since I had been with Caius. In that time I had not been able to see more than a glimpse of him from afar, or of Marcus. Lucius was around, always around, and it restricted my actions until I was nearly out of my mind with need.

  The only thing that kept me sane was the knowledge that my bleeding would finish today—I had never veered in pattern since my courses had first started as a girl. That meant that I would see Caius tonight, and I thought that the minutes seemed interminable as they swam slowly throughout the day. Now I was summoned to Lucius’ office, and more than wondering why, I dreaded going.

  I was afraid that my emotions would reveal themselves on my face.

  I was afraid that Justinus would not have held to his end of our bargain.

  So as I entered the office of my husband, that small dim room where I had spent an illicit half hour, it was with a heavy weight in my belly.

  “You asked to see me?” I hovered in the arched entrance, scanning the room as I did for signs that I had been there. I knew that Lucius had been in the room countless times since that day, and yet I looked anyway.

  Lucius did not even look up from what he was doing, which was writing in the very same book that I had scoured so closely. I was afraid anew, afraid that I had left some trace of my presence, though I knew that I had not.

  “Your courses are due to finish today, are they not?” I nodded hesitantly, though I did not for a moment think that he was keeping track of them himself. No, that would be too mundane a chore. He would be paying the doctor, Pompeius, to chart my cycle, and I found it slightly distasteful to have a near stranger know such intimate details of my life.

  “If you do not become with child this time, we will have to reconsider our plan.” Our plan. My lips wanted to curl with distaste. This had not been our plan. I had not had any say in the matter at all. He continued, not noticing—or caring, I supposed—what my stony silence meant. “Perhaps the slave we have paired you with does not have strong seed, as we supposed. Perhaps I should choose a Gaul, or a Dacian.” This got my attention, in a gut-clenching way.

  “You . . . you mean to change him? To mate me with a different man?” I was proud that my voice did not shake too much.

  “Yes, Alba, that is what I mean.” His tone was irritable, the one he reserved for the slightly addle-brained. When, I wondered, had I become equivalent to the slow of mind in my husband’s attentions? Had his love for me truly disappeared? He might have been forced to make me go against my wishes at first, but was it now simply second nature to him?

  Still, I waited, waited for him to tell me what he had summoned me here for. I could not think that that had been it, unless the words he had already spoken had been meant to impart a sense of guilt.

  “Lucius?” He had returned to writing in his book, working as if I had not entered the room at all.

  “What?” His voice was sharp, as if I was bothering him. It caused anger to flare, an anger much larger than the situation probably warranted. He had summoned me here. How dare he treat me so when I was here only because he wanted it so?

  I was not sure what he would do if I spoke to him with all of the rage that I had been keeping inside. I was tempted, very sorely tempted, but in the end slipped back into my role as gracious wife. It was what I had been trained to do for my entire life, after all, no matter how I felt about it. My own secret rebellion was enough, for
now at least.

  “Is that all you wanted?” I doubt that he heard the jagged knife beneath the honey of my tone, but I certainly did. He shook his head, ran hands through his hair. I watched, bewildered that he could have already forgotten that I was still in the room. I was also confused that now, when I looked at him tousle his hair, I felt nothing. Once the sight of his pale, lean fingers in the mess of his raven locks had set my pulse racing, had sent tremors between my thighs.

  Now I wanted no part of him. No part of us.

  “No, I also wanted to tell you that you are not to be mated tonight.” I blinked against a sudden prickle of tears at the backs of my eyes. I was frustrated by the sudden surge of emotion—I had rather thought that I’d grown stronger in the last weeks. Tonight, the anticipation of it, was the only thing that had gotten me through the last weeks.

  “Why?” I tried to make my voice merely curious, instead of devastated.

  “Hilaria has made her choice. She also has decided that tonight is the only night that will work in her schedule.” His voice was amused rather than angry, if a bit dry, but then I supposed that a sum of money as large as the one she had given us would soothe all manner of irritations.

  “Will I be mated at all, this cycle?” The idea of losing my time with Caius because of the spoiled patrician woman made me sick.

  “I had not thought.” Lucius smoothed hands over his tunic—a deep blue, his favored color—and leaned back in his cushioned chair.

  “Well, you had best think!” The words burst forth from my mouth before I could stop them. Lucius appeared startled more than angry, however, so I continued, anxious to speak before he cut me off. “Do you want that patronage of Baldurus or not? We cannot afford to miss an opportunity for me to conceive.”

  This was true enough, I supposed.

  Lucius merely chuckled, seeming pleased at my enthusiasm for his plan. For our plan, in his mind. “I appreciate your support, wife, but you need not worry. Leave that to me, for I have a head for it. And we actually are in a decent spot, financially, at the moment.” I thought of Hilaria’s payment, then of the withdrawal at the same time. He was lying, though of course he had no way of knowing that I possessed the knowledge to call him on it.