“Would you like her to suck your cock?” Clodius asked cheerfully, falling back in his seat as the girl let his cock slip from her sperm dribbling lips.
Without waiting for an answer the girl was there at once burying her pretty head under Quintus’ tunic. One hand lovingly stroked his erection while the other expertly fondled his balls. But Quintus although enjoying the sensation of her hot eager breath wafting across his cock kept his gaze firmly on the whipped slave. Her fine regular teeth were clenched and constantly grinding against the fresh onslaught going on all down her back, buttocks and thighs. So far not a sound came from her, only a series of rapid pants and deep throated grunts which, for some inexplicable reason he found quite arousing in their own way.
Her teeth ground so fast her jaw ached and her bottom seemed to have swelled to three times its size. Bare, hot and throbbing, her bottom cheeks blazed from each renewed lash. She wasn’t quite sure whom she hated most, the two masters enjoying the spectacle of having her so unjustly flogged, or the hideous ape lashing her with increasing fury. One of these days, she thought, I’ll kill the bastard, but then the whip curled its tails around her sides where the skin was thinner and stretched tight over her ribs.
Quintus suddenly looked up. A harsh piercing scream rent the air. At last her resistance had broken. The threshold of pain could no longer be resisted. The corn master smiled with satisfaction and landed the tails on the crown of her bottom.
It seemed to Africanus that a red hot iron had burnt into the base of her spine. Up to now her solid buttocks and back, her firm fleshy thighs had been able to withstand the constant lashing but now, as the tails struck at the more vulnerable parts of her body the pain had become unbearable.
“Stop, please master,” she sobbed. “I’ve taken enough.”
How many strokes had she taken? More than the twenty originally ordered that was certain.
“Give her another half dozen,” Quintus said, wanting to see how much more she could actually endure before passing out. “On the backs of her legs,” he added, sensing that was where she seemed most vulnerable.
The corn master willing obeyed and sent the first lash searing into the bulge of her calves.
Her feet jerked upwards and her whole body went into a spin, jerking awkwardly at the wrists, crashing against the wooden pole before finally settling to a stop. She hung with one shoulder against the pole, her body at right angles to the wood.
“Give her a lash across the front of her thighs,” Quintus requested. “And another on her knees.”
“No!” Africanus screamed.
“Yes,” the corn master laughed.
And the tails left their fearful welts exactly where he intended them to fall.
Africanus’ face was a mask of suffering; flowing tears competed with streaks of sweat, her mouth hung open and slack. Mucus from her dilated nostrils stained her lips and chin. The corn master tossed the whip aside just as Quintus erupted into the slave girl’s mouth.
“Take her down,” Clodius said dully. “Then have her washed.”
“Wait,” Quintus said, turning his eyes to his friend. “With your consent, there is just one more test I’d like to see. Who amongst your slaves has the biggest cock?”
“I believe Proteus has that honour. Why do you ask?”
“Now the girl has been flogged I want to see how she holds up to being fucked.”
Clodius thought that was funny. “She’s hardly in a position to refuse,” he smirked.
Africanus was already on her feet and rubbing her bruised and welted bottom. Under normal circumstances, any slave who had been so ardently flogged would have collapsed or fainted, but this slave was still on her feet. Quintus wondered if she could endure another punishment, perhaps more pleasurable if less painful.
“Fetch Proteus,” Clodius ordered.
A slave girl hurried out of the grinding room and was almost as quickly back with one of the strangest looking men that Quintus had ever set eyes on. His short legs were hairy and bowed at the knees, his back had a pronounced hump and his face was almost submerged under a mane of wild unkempt hair and beard. Quintus took a step backwards to escape his foul breath.
“From under which stone did this thing crawl?” he asked, still unable to believe the evidence of his own eyes.
“From the stones of Britannia, or maybe it was Gaul. I can’t remember exactly. But he has the strength of five men and I use him for hauling sacks of grain. It spares the horses.”
“Mate him with Africanus,” Quintus said loudly.
A look of pure horror crossed her face. Being whipped was one thing, mated with this animal was quite another. It didn’t help her state of mind when he threw off his filthy tunic and growled at her, revealing a cock that had earned him the nickname of ‘Horrificus’ or one who causes fear. Africanus did indeed look fearful as well she might. Even Quintus, a man not easily shocked visibly baulked when he saw the size of his penis.
“That’s not natural,” he muttered.
Africanus fell to her knees in front of Quintus. She now realized it was not her own master, Clodius, who was in control but this stranger.
“Please master, don’t let me mate with this beast. I’ll do anything you want but spare me this.”
“You have held up well against your flogging,” Quintus complimented her. “Now I want to see how well you manage with this creature.”
There was method in his reasoning. He knew that after combat a defeated gladiatrix might well be offered for sex with a victorious gladiator, or even a whole troop of legionaries. If she provided sexual satisfaction she would be spared, if she failed then death would swiftly follow, so it stood to reason that if Africanus could survive this creature and after such a severe flogging, she would make a good investment.
“I will spare you the ordeal of having a thing of that size in your cunt,” he said unexpectedly.
Africanus breathed a sigh of sheer relief. “Thank you, master,” she whispered, bowing her head to the ground.
“I said I would spare you having it in your cunt, but not up your arse.”
She would have got up then and bolted, but two male slaves held her fast.
“Stay as you are,” Quintus commanded. “He will take you now.”
“Not up my bottom,” she pleaded. “I’ve never had it that way.”
“Well now’s your chance to learn how it’s done,” Quintus remarked. “And if I were you, I’d relax that arse of yours, or the pain will be much worse than any flogging you might receive.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” she wept.
A slave who survived a severe flogging might well be held in high esteem by fellow slaves, or even the master, but being humiliated like this would bring nothing but contempt.
“Are you questioning me?” Quintus asked, unused to being answered back.
She could see he was angered and might do something that would do her no good at all.
“No master,” she whimpered. “I will obey your command and have that…that thing up my bottom.”
Quintus brightened. It was just what he wanted to hear; complete and uncompromising obedience, another valuable asset. In gladiatorial training obedience was everything.
“You may have her now,” he said to Proteus, then went back to his seat and joined Clodius where a meal of seasoned quail and shrimps had just arrived.
“I have to get out of here,” Africanus thought, dropping on to her hands and knees.
Somewhere behind her Proteus was shuffling between her parted thighs making ready to penetrate her bottom. The slaves who had been turning the wheel had been permitted to rest and enjoy the spectacle. Glad of a break in their labours they gathered in a group, eyes fixed on Africanus’ whipped body. In the bright sunshine her black skin shone with sweat. More slaves released
from domestic duties elbowed and shoved for a place at the windows, some just gaping open mouthed at Proteus’ famed penis, whilst others called out ribald remarks and made lewd gestures. It wasn’t often they had the chance to see a fellow slave bum fucked by a thing of those dimensions. One or two even took bets as to how long Africanus could suffer being ridden by him.
“Tonight,” she thought, “I’ll make a break for it. Once I’m over that wall I’ll be long gone”
But where was she to run? Home? That was a long way away and she could only just remember it. She knew she came from somewhere on the coast of Africa, a small village by a great river where she had been free. Then the soldiers had come rounding up all the young women and girls, herding them in chains aboard a boat where, packed like bees in a hive, they had remained for eight days until the craft disgorged its thirsty cargo at the wharves of a great city. There she had lived until she was fourteen, working as a slave girl. But life had not been unpleasant as a ladies’ maid. She had been treated kindly and well fed. Then as she grew to womanhood she had been sold again, this time to a dealer who in turn auctioned her to a Roman who had set her to work at the wheel. The work was hard and grinding but at least it had kept her fit and her muscles had developed strength she never imagined possible. She had a good sense of direction and was pretty sure that she could find her way to the coast. There were plenty of cargo ships sailing to and fro to her homeland. She reasoned the price of her body was worth exchanging for a passage home.
Suddenly she was brought back into the present. A hard slap landed on her flank and she heard Proteus chuckle as his rough, horny palms spread over her bottom cheeks. His thumbs pressed hard into the softer flesh of her crease and eased it apart. He looked at her tight puckered bottom hole and laughed. Soon, she would be screaming with pain as his enormous rod drove hard into that tight little aperture.
“Get ready, Africanus!” a voice called from a window.
“Don’t shit yourself,” another called, and the whole assembly burst into hysterical laughter.
“Ride her ‘til she’s sore,” a guard yelled.
Africanus steadied herself against the head of the enormous cock touching her anus.
“They might’ve at least greased my arse before he started,” she muttered.
Then her nerve failed. The powerful sphincter muscles in her bottom tensed and closed. Her buttock muscles flexed and for a moment both Clodius and Quintus admired the beautiful shapely hollows forming in their sides.
“The girl has a splendid arse,” Clodius remarked, wondering why he hadn’t noticed it before.
“It shows strength,” Quintus agreed, wondering why Proteus had not penetrated her.
He saw him raise a clenched fist and bring it fast down upon the base of her spine.
“Open your arse, you bitch!” he rasped.
Africanus grunted from the blow and squeezed her cheeks tighter. With luck he might abandon the idea, but Proteus had no intentions of abandoning anything, not least riding the magnificent arse now presenting itself for his unbridled pleasure.
He drew back and slapped her left arse cheek so hard the sound echoed around the courtyard. He slapped her again on the right cheek, then on the sides of her thighs. His hand went under her legs and seized her sex mound. Africanus swallowed hard when his fingers slowly closed around her sex, increasing the pressure until her eyes watered.
“All right,” she sobbed. “Ride my arse.”
Again his thumbs eased open her cheeks and this time the head of his cock pressed hard against her anus. She grunted and felt the head slip into her bottom. His hands left her cheeks and gripped her hips, holding her still while his loins gathered strength for the first thrust.
The pain seemed to come from everywhere at once. Her bottom hole stretched until it could stretch no further. All through her bottom cheeks a burning sensation spread like hot flames. The previous welts left by the whip began to throb again as blood rushed through her veins. She kept her teeth firmly clenched and took deep breaths through her dilated nostrils, blasting air and mucus over her lips and chest.
“I must go with it,” she told herself, feeling his swelling organ drive deeper into her bottom.
To the delight of her audience, she dropped onto her elbows, arching her back and lifting her buttocks high in the air. His cock seemed to penetrate more easily, pushing open her anus and filling her to the hilt. His course, wiry pubic hair grazed against the softer surface of her skin. She shivered when his balls slapped into her crease. Learning to relax, she rocked back and forth on her knees, meeting each separate thrust with a backward push of her hips. But the mounting pain increased as his rotating hips screwed faster. His hands roamed over her back, slapping and smoothing the whip welts. Then, obeying the ribald suggestions from the crowd, he leaned right over and grabbed her breasts, squeezing hard, clumsily fumbling for her nipples. A scream, long held in her lungs gave full vent when he pinched her throbbing teats. Tears streaked from her rolling eyes as he in turn rolled and crushed the tender buds. His loins accelerated their pace thumping his pelvis into her wobbling cheeks.
“Go on, give it to her,” a shrill voice cut the air.
“He’s coming!” a girl shrieked.
Africanus felt his organ suddenly increase its hardness and in a second she was flooded with his hot gushing sperm.
He quickly withdrew and the audience craned their necks to see him come in great globules all the way up her back and into her hair.
A final slap on her buttocks sent her crashing to the ground and she laid panting and sobbing. There were no thoughts in her mind now, just the dull ache in her legs and bottom which would go on throbbing for hours. If her masters’ had sought to both punish and humiliate her, they had achieved just that. And she hid her face in shame.
Chapter Two
“Look at the state of her,” Clodius said, disgusted. “I wouldn’t use her to clean my toilet let alone fight in the arena.”
It was true. She hardly looked the sort of material that would inspire confidence in any would-be purchaser. Sand stuck to her sweating skin and a strong smell of body odour tainted the air. Proteus’ spending had dried on her skin in transparent streaks. Some of it still gathered at the entrance to her bottom hole. She lay on her side in a crumpled heap, her sex open and wet.
“If you still want to buy this thing, I’m sure we can strike a favourable bargain,” Clodius remarked, kicking her rump.
“The girl has many qualities, but now I want her washed and scrubbed,” Quintus said. “Have her taken to the baths while we work out a price.”
After her ordeal at the whipping post it seemed that she had suddenly been transported into paradise. The wooden tub was filled to the brim with hot, steaming water and lime leaves to sweeten her smelling skin. It was the first time in her life as a slave that she had ever been permitted to take a bath and now she leaned against the rim savouring the soothing liquid swirling around her breasts. After she had soaked for an hour a masseuse would come and massage her punished limbs, but until then she had time to relax.
Slowly the dirt melted from her skin and it took on that wonderful shiny sheen so peculiar to black women. Her hands reached for a cake of soap and rubbed it softly over her thighs and belly. The throbbing in her back and buttocks had subsided to little more than a dull ache, but her anus still hurt from Proteus’ massive cock. It was a miracle it hadn’t split her arse in half and she wondered how she had managed to take such a pounding. Her legs were long and powerful, but she knew men found her desirable. It was her breasts they found most attractive; firm round globes blessed with large inviting dark nipples. When she was sexually aroused the areolae seemed to quadruple in size, spreading their pimpled discs over half her breasts. Her hands cupped each one, and idly thumbed the nipples sending a sudden thrill travelling through her chest and belly. It had been a lon
g time since she had masturbated. In a place like this where privacy was unknown the chance rarely came to indulge in a little self satisfaction, not to mention the relief it brought.
Dare I bring myself off, she wondered, looking swiftly around the bath house. All the other tubs were empty and there wasn’t a soul in sight.
I dare, she thought, and her right hand dipped beneath the steaming surface.
Her fore and index fingers lightly touched the outer lips of her sex now pouting and swollen with excitement. A low moan escaped her lips when the tips of her fingers touched that sensual little bud that had women begging for a male cock.
“Oh, that’s so good,” she muttered, wiggling her fingers faster and faster.
But she didn’t want to come quickly, instead of hurrying her orgasm she pushed her fingers deeper inside her sex, tickling and teasing the sensitive inner petals that thrilled at the slightest touch.
The hand still cupping her left breast lifted, raising the whole shining black globe high enough so her lips could suck on the erect and pulsating nipple. Another swift glance around the bath house told her all was safe from prying eyes. Her lips parted over the nipple, hovered for a second then sucked it in deep. She withdrew her hand from between her legs and reached for the soap cake not discarding it until her palm and fingers were well lathered.
Lost in a private world of ecstasy she flicked her tongue over her nipples, smiling broadly as her lathered hand went between her legs. From then on time seemed to stand still. She left off sucking her tingling breast and opened her legs as wide as the tub permitted. All four fingers of the lathered hand bunched together, the thumb tucked neatly into her palm. Now she was ready to bring herself off, not with two fingers but with her whole hand. Her head went backwards on the rim and she guided her fingers into her sex, moving her wrist in a slow revolving motion until her knuckles were just inside the outer lips. For a moment she held her breath unsure whether her sex could take another shove of her wrist.
The Arena of Torment Page 2
