“You may stand up,” lady Octavia said happily. “And take off your gag.”
Africanus untied the knot and opened the skirt. Her mouth had left a wet discolouring and a sticky mess of nose mucus dripped to the flags.
“Wipe that up,” the lady said, displaying a hint of anger. “I won’t have my private garden fouled by a slave.”
Africanus got onto her hands and knees and used her skirt to wipe up the mess. She stood up and wrapped it around her hips and then placed her folded hands neatly over her groin.
“I think tomorrow Drucus is going to start your training, after you have taken your oath of obedience, of course. At the end of the day you will take your bath and report to me in my private quarters. Do you understand, slave?”
“Yes, mistress,” she bowed.
“Now thank me for beating you.”
“I am thankful for the beating,” Africanus echoed.
And the lady adjusted her plaited hair whilst a slave escorted the gladiatrix back to her cell.
As promised by lady Octavia, a young girl slave appeared with a pot of balm and bottles of aromatic oils designed to heal wounds and soothe bruises. She spread a cloth over the straw and Africanus laid herself on it, hands clasped behind her head. It seemed that taking good care of the gladiators’ was all part of the training ritual.
The young slave tipped some oil over Africanus’ belly and rubbed it softly into the pores, humming quietly as she did so. She was dark skinned and very pretty; her hair had been tied in a bun at the nape of her slender neck.
“Tell me about your mistress,” Africanus said, feeling the oil already cooling her burning skin. During that brief meeting in her private garden Africanus was sure she had missed something, and that something was dangerous, but she couldn’t quite fathom what it was.
“She is the wife of Quintus, our lord and master,” the girl informed, smiling and revealing rows of perfect teeth as white as orange pith.
“I know that. I want you to tell me all about her. How does she treat her slaves?”
“Oh, she’s very kind, especially to us young ones. She only beats us if we’ve done wrong.”
Africanus sighed. “Well I gathered that. What sort of entertainment does she like?”
“Eh?” the girl asked, looking confused. She tipped more oil over her charge’s breasts and began manipulating the ample flesh, her slim expert fingers squeezing and pressing. She rolled the nipples between her fore finger and thumb smiling absently all the while.
“Your mistress said that I should provide her with entertainment. What exactly did she mean by that?”
The girl looked even more confused. “Oh, I think she wants you to put on a mock fight. Sometimes the men have to do that, fighting during a party. No one gets hurt. It’s all for fun really.”
A groan escaped Africanus lips. She had only been there a day and the idea of giving a display of mock combat was absurd. Clearly the girl was either simple or just genuinely didn’t understand what she was driving at. Perhaps there was nothing to drive at. The suggestion might have been an innocent one and it was she who was getting suspicious where no necessity existed.
I must learn to relax more, she told herself, and closed her eyes as the girl gently eased open her thighs and tipped more oil onto her pubic mound. Quite oblivious to the gladiatrix’ throaty purrs, she wiggled her oil soaked fingers inside the gaping sex, and then when the lips were thoroughly wetted, slipped her tiny hand into the sex tunnel. Her elbow moved slowly to and fro while her wrist twisted from side to side. Africanus was so wet from both the oil and her own juice that she hardly felt the diminutive knuckles teasing her inner petals. But she certainly felt the beating of her heart increasing with each turn of the fist, and the sudden flush of sweat breaking on her brow.
“If you go on doing that, you’ll make me come,” she warned.
“Come all you like, miss. It’ll make you feel better after such a hard day.”
“I’d rather have a hard cock,” she grimaced.
For a split second the girl hesitated as if Africanus had said more than she knew, but she continued on with her oiling and salving, turning the gladiatrix on her belly and applying generous amounts of oil on her caned buttocks, working it hard into the crease, and still humming that infuriating tune. Her constant manipulating of the muscles and tendons worked wonders and when she finished Africanus had fallen into a deep slumber.
The girl gathered up her bottles and pots and tip toed out of the cell, a crafty knowing grin creasing her lips.
“The mistress is going to love you,” she whispered, and crept quietly away like a thief.
At the end of the passage she stopped, her way blocked by the massive frame of Circo.
“Nydia, what are you doing here?” he asked abruptly.
“Oiling the new gladiatrix, master,” she answered coyly.
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. It was unusual for a girl slave to be roaming around the gladiators’ quarters at this time of night, even if she was speaking the truth, which he strongly doubted. His hand went under her legs, crushing her sex mound and pinning her against the wall.
“If you breathe a word of my being here you little lizard, I’ll snap your pretty little neck.”
“I won’t say anything, master,” she gulped, clutching the bottles tightly on her chest.
He growled and dropped her, then for good measure, slapped her face, a blow which left her reeling.
She waited until he had turned a corner and padded silently after him, keeping a respectful distance lest he should suddenly turn. She heard a cell door open and close and came quietly on, keeping well in the shadows until she reached Africanus’ cell. The lamp was still burning and through the grating saw the distorted shadow of Circo loosening his breeches. A sly knowing smile went across her face and she crept closer. She stopped and furtively secreted herself in an alcove where she could see everything that was going on.
In that peculiar state of being neither asleep nor awake, Africanus drifted in and out of consciousness, unsure whether the hand slipping between her legs was real or imaginary. She stirred and a hand closed quickly over her mouth. In the dim, wavering light, she looked into the face of Circo. He took his hand away from her mouth and put his forefinger to his lips. She nodded, understanding she was not in any danger.
Her sex still throbbed in the aftermath of the oiling and Nydia’s slithering fingers. Circo rubbed his palm into her sex and she moved over the bed making room for his muscular, rippling torso.
“It’s all right,” he whispered hoarsely. “No one knows I’m here. We can fuck until dawn.”
In her alcove, Nydia put down her bottles and wiped away a bead of sweat trickling down her cheek. If Circo discovered her presence he wouldn’t think twice about carrying out his threat, but it was worth the risk. She made it her business to know everything that went on in the ludus and this was well worth knowing.
Again, Africanus experienced the tantalizing thrill of illicit sex, the overriding fear of being caught in flagrante dilecto, and the punishment that would swiftly follow. Circo was between her open thighs, kneeling up so she could see, even in that poor light, the sheer strength and power of his body. His cock was fully erect, his balls tight with longing. He slid his arms under her knees and lifted them from the bed.
“A woman is all the better when her legs are in the air,” he told her, lifting them higher and higher.
Her long, shining legs were dead straight, toes pointing to the cell roof. She understood how he wanted to take her and leaning forward, grabbed her ankles and spread them wide. Circo couldn’t help but utter a low whistle at the beauty of her thighs and paused, giving himself time to caress the long length of silky skin. It was too much to resist and he slipped backwards and dropped his head between her legs. A musky aroma of feminine
sex wafted into his nostrils. The heat coming from her open sex warmed his face. It was a long time since he’d had a woman and he was seized with a desire to explore, touch and kiss every inch of her body. Hard man though he was, made brutal and savage in the arena, he still knew how to treat a woman. He would take his time and not leave until her body was sexually wasted. He placed the tips of his fingers inside her sex and parted the lips, taking time to feast his eyes on the quivering petals, the soft pink skin and stream of juice running freely into her pubic curls. His tongue flicked around the lips tasting the sweet essence of her excited sex. Her belly shook and creased deeply across the navel and he heard her moan.
“Please fuck me now. Please, I want your cock.”
But Circo only pressed his mouth harder, letting the tip of his tongue tease her clitoris until her head rolled uncontrollably and her loins shook with longing. Her juices were running over his tongue like a river, coming from the depths of her sex in a rich creamy flood. He swallowed her juice and licked his lips. There was nothing like the earthy taste of a woman in heat to savour on the palate.
“Give me your cock,” she pleaded, letting go of her ankles and grabbing his hair.
She almost ripped it from the roots before he took his mouth from her dripping sex and threw himself over her body.
His hands went straight to her breasts, rolling them under his palms, squashing them so hard it hurt. The pain going through her drove her wild and she reached down, closing her hand around his throbbing shaft.
“In my mouth,” she gasped. “Let me suck you.”
Circo hesitated. In the heat of passion her voluptuous lips could easily suck him off and that was not what he wanted.
“Slowly, girl,” he whispered, aiming the purple glans into her mouth.
She sucked it in and ran her tongue around the deep, sensitive groove at its base, tasting his earthy aroma. For a while he held her head still, not letting her take in his whole length, just allowing her to suck and lick the swollen head. When her passion abated he let her take in his cock, her hot mouth gliding slowly down the shaft, then back again to the groove where her tongue flicked and curled.
“Suck my balls,” he whispered, easing his shaft out of her mouth.
Africanus opened her mouth wide and, using her fingers, pushed his throbbing scrotum gently between her teeth. Taking care not to cause him pain, she nibbled at the fruits filling her cheeks, rolled them over her tongue and soaked them with her hot saliva. Between her legs her sex lips were quivering and so sensitive the merest touch would have had her screaming, but they both knew that would be fatal. Instead, he slipped his balls from her mouth and kissed her full on the lips. They did not stop kissing until their lips and tongues ached. Then, when she lay panting and breathless, he plunged his cock into her sex and filled her with one mighty thrust of his loins.
“How you fuck!” she sobbed, throwing her arms and legs around him.
He was caught in her powerful limbs and she clung like a limpet, pressing her sweating body against his own heaving torso. Locked in a tight embrace, they rocked to and fro, unhurried, prolonging the delicious moments of deep, satisfying sex.
Nydia had left the alcove and crawled on her hands and knees to the grating, through it she saw Circo’s buttocks gyrating ceaselessly against Africanus’ sex, heard her low moans and whimpers as he thrust harder and deeper.
“I want it too,” she whispered, jealous of the black girl now impaled on Circo’s massive organ.
It was all she could do to stop herself from slipping into the cell and begging him to fuck her. She reached for one of her bottles and slipped it into her sex. Her other hand closed over her budding breast and squeezed it hard. Her hand pumped fast and she came in seconds, so fast her head swam. She put her fingers inside her and wetted them then sucked them into her mouth. The bottle fell from her other hand and smashed on the flags. She froze; cold, clammy sweat formed under her arms and she looked tentatively through the grating. Circo paused, listened and went on thrusting his loins. A gush of air whooshed from Nydia’s lungs and she crawled back into the alcove her sex dripping its juice in a slimy, glistening trail.
Africanus lifted her bottom off the bed and thrust her hips furiously against Circo’s groin. His cock was deep inside her but she wanted it deeper.
“Bite my tits,” she wailed, clawing at his head.
Circo’s head plunged over her breasts and, placing his strong hands either side of the wobbling orbs, he pressed them together and sucked both nipples into his mouth.
“Don’t suck. Bite. Bite them hard,” she sobbed, longing for the increased pain that would heighten her arousal.
Circo obeyed and closed his teeth over the erect buds, rolling and crushing the tender teats until she her fists beat against his ribs in pain.
“Fuck me harder,” she shrieked. “Fuck me ‘til my cunt throbs.”
She was losing control and shouting at the top of her voice. Circo quickly closed his hand over her mouth, stifling her shrieks. In the darkness, Nydia saw his other hand reach for her thigh, pinching and clutching at the abundance of flesh quaking beneath. Africanus was going wild at the fresh onslaught of pain going through her thighs and belly. The more pain he inflicted the greater her orgasm. He knew what she wanted and returned his mouth to her nipples, biting so hard tears flowed down her cheeks, yet all the while she gasped and panted, thrashed her legs and arms with wild abandon. No one had ever taken her with so much passion or force. His cock was spearing her vaginal walls forcing them wider from his manic thrusts, but she closed her legs around him, crushing his ribs between her flexing muscles. Circo could hardly breathe but fought hard against her shaking thighs.
“I’m going to come,” he rasped, putting his arms around her shoulders and flattening her breasts against his rippling chest.
Their nipples touched and they both let out a long groan. Circo gave three gigantic heaves of his pelvis and erupted into her. Africanus slammed her hips against his middle and with one colossal shudder reached her climax. They lay entwined, panting and moaning, still locked together as the final drops of love juice oozed from their sexes. They lay there until the heated sweat turned cold and sticky. Circo uncoupled from her writhing body and lay still beside her staring at the ceiling. He didn’t have the courage or heart to tell her that his master had sold him and they would probably never meet again.
Africanus slid her thigh across his middle and he reached for her bottom, smoothing the cheeks and patting the splendid moons of her arse.
“You’re a glorious fuck,” he told her honestly. “The Gods have favoured you well.”
But she did not reply. Her breathing came regularly as she lay in contented sleep in the arms of the man she wanted to be with for the rest of her life.
Nydia crept out of the alcove and made her way along the passage, moving silently like an assassin, looking neither left nor right, but moving quickly as if she feared the approach of dawn.
Chapter Four
“I give my life and soul to my master,” Africanus chanted, taking the oath of loyalty and unswerving obedience, “I shall not fear death but embrace it willingly should the Gods claim me for their own. I look upon death with contempt and my master with reverence. His word is my doing even until death.”
She bowed low and prostrated herself at Quintus’ feet. He touched her on the shoulder with a rudis and bade her arise.
“As from now your training begins in earnest,” he said. “Work hard and well and you will be rewarded. Fail me and you will suffer my wrath. Now go and may the Gods be with you.”
Tears filled her eyes, not only because of the glory of the moment, but because she had been told that Circo had been sold to another ludus in the south. The profit from the sale would be used to hire a contract gladiatrix, a woman who had sold her freedom for five years in order to pay off debts or
rise to fame in the arena. She had contracted with Quintus to train Africanus and would arrive at the ludus as soon as Africanus had built up her body strength. It was left to Drucus to ensure that was accomplished, and he began immediately by setting her to work.
She was harnessed to a long heavy chain which ran over a wheel at the top of a tall wooden frame. On the other end of the chain was a heavy weight which she had to pull to the top of the frame, and when she had achieved that, she would let go and begin again until her leg and arm muscles were solid. It would also build up her softer stomach muscles until they rippled with strength.
Groaning under the weight, Africanus struggled forward one agonizing step at a time. The leather harness was tightly fitted around her torso and generously moulded to cover her ample breasts. She was wearing her short skirt and Drucus watched admiringly as her thighs and calves strained every inch of the way. Her dark skin, covered with a fine sheen of sweat, shone in the sunlight. Her progress was slow and steady, but for Quintus watching from under the shade of the portico, it was not fast enough.
“Use the whip on her,” he called to Drucus.
Drucus gathered a whip of plaited hide and stood behind her, lashing her near bare buttocks and naked back, driving her like an animal until the weight reached the top of the frame. At his signal the chain was released from the harness and the weight crashed to the ground.
“Again,” he said, ignoring her parched lips. “This time I want to see you move faster, or I’ll flog your arse until you can’t sit down for a week.”
It was no idle threat. With his master, Quintus watching her every move had no choice but to urge her on. Whipped and driven, she worked at the weight until Drucus was satisfied. At the end of the day she collapsed in the sand and lay staring at the sky, exhausted and gasping for water.
The Arena of Torment Page 6
