“You need showing who’s master in here,” she heard him say, and he slapped the side of her head.
No one ever dared treat her like this. The last client, a drunken tailor who had raised his hand had been sent crashing down the rickety stairs. This man was different. He was treating her like a slave, abusing her, fucking her rotten whilst teetering her on the edge of death, ordering her around like a menial, and now slapping her into the middle of next week. And she loved every bit of it. His body exuded strength and male virility, every muscle rippled; his unshaven face bristled in the dim light and she wished he would rub the stubble into her throbbing sex.
She sucked hard on his cock, wanting him to fill her throat with his hot juice. She reached under his legs and cupped his balls in her palm. She’d had men of all shapes and sizes in her hand, but his balls were hard inside the tight sac she now gently fondled.
“Squeeze harder,” he told her. “Let’s see what you’re really made of.”
Her hand closed around his balls and squeezed as hard as it dared, expecting him to cry out with pain. But not a sound came, just a muffled grunt as he erupted into her mouth. He kept her there until she’d swallowed every drop of sperm, then let her go and reached for the wine.
“Get on your back,” he gulped, indicating the bed.
Another slap landed on her shoulder and she went crashing onto the bed, wondering just how much more of this animal sex she could actually take. She opened her legs and pointed her toes to the ceiling, splitting her sex wide. He knelt between her thighs and tipped the last of the wine over her belly and sex. Then, while she gulped for air, he fell on her, licking every pore of her skin, nibbling and sucking her clitoris until she cried out for him to stop, but inwardly hoping it would go on until day break. When her sex was soaking he plunged into her, crushing her ample breasts under his hairy sweating chest. His hands grabbed tufts of her hair and forced her head backwards. In an instant his mouth was on her nipples, biting and rolling the teats, sending fierce darts of pain shooting through her chest. She could feel the coarse stubble rubbing and grating her soft skin, going all around her breasts, then up through the cleft and onto her neck. She was on fire from the stubble ripping against her face. Her whole body was one uncontrollable mass of tingling pins and needles.
“Fuck me hard, you bastard,” she screamed, thumping her fists into his ribs.
“You call me a bastard, you dirty whore,” he rasped, slapping her face.
“Bastard,” she cried again, and turned her head as his hand smacked her cheek.
“You filthy whore,” and his pelvis jerked so hard she went breathless.
“Ride me hard, you shit,” she shrieked, reaching up and grasping her ankles.
“I’ll punish you for that,” he told her, and started slapping her thighs so hard the pale flesh turned red. She could even see the livid imprints left by his fingers.
He rode her till he came, then without ceremony or the slightest thought for her feelings rolled her over on her belly and slapped her bottom until she sobbed.
Leaving her for a moment, he went to the door and yelled along the passage for one of the brothel servants to bring more wine. She looked at him through tear filled eyes. In that state he could have done anything he wanted, no matter how revolting or perverse, but he merely paid the servant and bolted the door.
“Drink,” he said, shoving the bottle into her belly.
She sat up and took what he offered. “You said you killed people for a living,” she belched. “Would you kill someone for me, if I asked you to?”
He took the bottle and swallowed half its contents then eyed her suspiciously. “Maybe. But I don’t always kill for a living. I just make people disappear.”
“Ooh,” she purred. “A magician, then.”
“If you’re trying to be clever, I’ll piss all down your back,” he warned.
Her jaw dropped. She wasn’t sure whether he meant that. But then again, looking at his flashing eyes he could be capable of anything.
“I’d rather you fucked me again,” she invited. “But before you do, tell me honestly, how do you make people disappear?”
“Easily,” he said. “Now sit on my cock.”
He swung his legs off the bed and she stood over him, straddling his middle. Lowering her hips, she reached under her legs and guided his organ into her sex. Her arms went around his broad shoulders and she sat on him throwing back her head, open mouthed as he penetrated her. He leaned back and grabbed the bottle, drinking its sour contents while she rode him with a steady motion of her hips and bottom.
“More?” he offered, holding out the bottle.
When she went to take it, he moved his arm away and, taking another hefty draught, sent a long hissing stream cascading over her face and breasts, then laughed so loudly the flimsy partitions seemed to shake. When he stopped laughing he passed her the bottle and let her drink her fill.
“It’s nice being fucked by a real man,” she gasped, forcing her sex hard onto his cock.
“You’re a good piece of fucking flesh yourself,” he complimented, rolling her tits under his palms. “And in good condition for an old woman.”
“I’m not old,” she protested, and rode him faster.
He took hold of her hands and lowered her backwards until her head almost touched the floor. His cock was touching her clitoris and she cried out, throwing her calves behind his back, locking them tight while he thrust his pelvis on and off the bed. He wondered who she really was. Not a common whore, certainly, but quite a dirty bitch in her own peculiar way. He guessed she was probably a widow or divorcee making a few coins on the side. There were a lot of them in this town. They went on riding until they both came and her legs slipped from his back and she hit the floor, groaning as her arse thumped on the boards.
“Your turn,” he said, collapsing on the bed.
She struggled to her feet, still wearing her shoes. “For what?”
“To fetch another bottle.”
She reached for her robe, but he tore it from her grasp. “Go as you are.”
“Naked?” she gulped.
“Naked,” he confirmed, and pointed to the door.
Her feet padded across the boards and she went out into the corridor, bawling along the passage for the servant.
“Go and fetch it yourself,” he ordered from the bed.
She turned to look at him. “Please, I can’t go down there like this.”
“Why are you so bashful all of a sudden? Half the town must’ve seen you in the raw. Now get downstairs.”
She went along the passage and halted at the top of the stairs. The room below was packed, but luckily at this hour of the morning most of the occupants were either so drunk or sleepy after spending the night with the whores that very few paid her attention. She didn’t summon the servant, but snatched a bottle from the nearest table and hurried upstairs. He was looking out of the window when she came in, watching the first rays of dawn peeping over the roofs. She stopped to admire his strong back tapering to a pair of tight masculine buttocks, and for the hundredth time that night her sex felt wet. She noticed a scar on his shoulders that could only have come from a gladius or lance.
She joined him at the window and they stood side by side, drinking and belching, spitting onto the pavement below.
“Who are these people you want disappearing?” he asked suddenly, heading for the bed.
She had to think about that. It would be unwise to give away too much at this stage without knowing more about him.
“Just people I know,” she shrugged. “I just wondered if it could be done, that’s all.”
“Oh, it can be done all right. All I need are their names, a description and where they live.”
“And then what happens?”
“That depends on ju
st how far you want to go, and how much you’re willing to pay.”
“I can raise the money. I just want to know what actually happens to them.”
“They disappear. I know of men working the oars in slave galleys who only a short while ago were in the senate, and women working as slaves in stone quarries who were once married to rich landowners. So you see, it doesn’t necessarily involve killing.”
Her face screwed in thought. “I’ve let you have tonight free. Would you accept that as payment?”
“I only work for money,” he informed bluntly. “Now supposing you tell me who you really are.”
She told him she was just a penniless widow down on her luck and had been robbed of her inheritance and wanting revenge. He seemed satisfied with the explanation and they fell into each others arms just as the sun’s rays angled into the room.
“Next time we meet I’m going to whip you,” he promised. “After I’ve fucked you so hard you’ll need a stretcher to carry you home.”
And he got up and left.
Chapter Six
It was at the end of her first week’s training that Quintus summoned Africanus. She had done well and was beginning to build up her body strength. Her stomach muscles were harder and her biceps more pronounced, but she still retained the very essence of feminine beauty. Her bottom, hips and breasts were still shapely and her legs magnificent with their gorgeous contours. She came over from the training apparatus and bowed.
“You sent for me, master.”
Quintus folded his arms over his chest and eyed her speculatively.
“In my profession I have had to deal with many a disobedient slave, but I have to say that you are by far the worst that has ever incurred my displeasure. After you allowed the driver to mate with you, you were warned that from then on coupling with any man was strictly forbidden. So why did you allow Circo, the gladiator I was obliged to sell in order to hire a gladiatrix to train you, access into your cell?”
Africanus looked at his stern face, wondering how in hell he could have known that. She was sure there wasn’t another soul in the place.
“I have nothing to say, master, except admit my guilt and give you my solemn promise it will never happen again.”
“Ha, your promises aren’t worth the lips that utter them. You took an oath of obedience and have broken it, and I am fully aware that flogging your backside has no effect whatever. If anything it increases your carnal cravings and makes you even more determined to satisfy them. Therefore, on this occasion I shall make the punishment fit the crime. Report to the gladiators’ quarters at sundown.”
And he stalked off, making a mental note to reward Nydia for her trouble.
Africanus returned to the apparatus, a horizontal wooden pole, not too dissimilar to the one she used to turn in the grinding house, except this one had chains fixed to it at about knee height and when the pole turned at high speed the chains whipped from it and she had to jump over them as they spun round. All designed to test her speed and agility. It had taken three whole days to master that and the backs of her calves still pained.
Another test she had to undergo was the rack, a strange looking wooden bed to which her wrists and ankles were fastened. Slaves turned a wheel at its base and slowly her arms began to wrench from their sockets. Her task was to use all her strength resisting the wheel and prevent her shoulders from dislocating. It was all the slaves could do to concentrate when Africanus, naked except for her short skirt strained and heaved at the axle. As her bottom lifted from the bed so the skirt rode up her thighs, giving them a splendid view of her pubic mound and parted slit. In the heat her body sweated and glistened and more than one slave, feigning heat stroke, went off to the toilet to masturbate.
Once or twice the Lady Octavia came into the training area and, seating herself under the cool shade of an arbour, delighted in watching the black gladiatrix being put through her paces. Now that she was getting more muscular her body was taking on a much more ravishing appearance, and it would be a strange man indeed who did not find her sexually arousing. Soon, when she was fully trained she might be worth her weight in gold, even in the literal sense of the words.
At the end of the day, Africanus, after taking her bath and having eaten her meal duly reported to the gladiators’ quarters. As a general rule she was never allowed anywhere near the gladiators, nor they near her. There were about twenty men undergoing training or already fighting in the arena, and they had just finished bathing when she passed through the arch into their training ground.
The barrage of hoots and shouts never came for they were highly disciplined men and each one remained silent, coolly appraising her body thinking to himself what he would like to do with her given half the chance. Unbeknown to them, that chance had come. Only Galba, the champion had received Quintus’ instructions, and he ushered her into their common room where the table was being cleared of plates and cups.
“The master has instructed us to punish you,” he said flatly, and he ordered one of the gladiators onto the table.
He lay naked on his back, with Africanus eyeing his erection. She wondered why all gladiators had such enormous cocks. Something to do with their training, she supposed. A hand came behind her and whipped away her skirt, leaving her completely naked.
“I suppose you’re all going to have me,” she sighed, fearing the worst.
“Correct,” Galba confirmed.
“And he’s first, I suppose?”
“Well, sort of,” Galba smirked. “Now get on that table and straddle his cock.”
When she swung a long shapely black thigh over his middle the men couldn’t resist but utter their approval in low, sinister murmurings. Her bottom hovered above him while she reached under her legs and grasped his cock. He penetrated her easily and she gasped as her buttocks sank onto his thighs. Months of total abstinence had given them rock hard erections, and it was only because of their iron training and discipline they didn’t rush forward and take her there and then.
Africanus leaned forward, taking her weight on her hands, placing them on his chest and rocking back and forth on her haunches.
Maybe this punishment wouldn’t be so bad after all, if all she had to do was fuck each man in turn. She thought she could handle that and smiled to herself thinking how stupid her master was if he thought this would put her off having sex.
“Lie over him,” Galba ordered. “Flat on your breasts and belly.”
Grunting, she lowered her body, squashing her enormous breasts on his chest. A pair of hands grabbed her ankles and spread them over the table.
“Nice arse,” Galba remarked, patting each buttock. “Nice bum hole too,” he added, struggling against the laughter threatening to burst from his lungs.
At his signal another gladiator clambered onto the table. On all fours he crawled between her open legs and stopped short of the cock embedded deep in her.
“Put your hands on your bum cheeks and part them,” Galba told her.
She did as she was ordered and placed her hands on her buttocks easing them open at the centre of the crease. The gladiator was on her at once, aiming his cock into her anus, giving vigorous shoves of his loins, not stopping until he was fully immersed in her bottom.
“I have to take two of you at once?” she shrieked, feeling both cocks ramming inside her.
“Well, sort of,” Galba grinned.
Then he ordered another man onto the table, this time kneeling at her head.
“Open your mouth,” Galba said, and this time he really did erupt into laughter.
Africanus clenched her jaw. Having men in her cunt and anus simultaneously was bad enough let alone another in her mouth.
“You need persuading,” Galba said, no longer laughing as he slipped off his belt.
A loud crack echoed around the room and Africanus’
thigh went rigid. Her thighs were the only part of her body he could readily lash and he wasted no time in convincing her that resistance was pointless.
“All right, I’ll suck him,” she wailed, and her jaw dropped open.
“I’ve never seen anything like that in my life,” one of the men remarked seriously. “A woman having three cocks at once.”
“This is only the beginning,” Galba told him. “Our master has given me strict instructions that she is not to be released from our custody until she’s heartily sick of having so much cock.”
“She’ll be sick all right, after she’s got a belly full of spunk.”
There was more in that observation than he realized. They had as much time as they wanted to slake their lusts and it was probable that each man could get an erection at least three, perhaps four times before his strength failed.
Africanus lay sandwiched between the two men, her bottom cheeks spreading under the weight of the man riding her arse and her breasts crushed against the man beneath her. It seemed she was drowning in a sea of sperm flooding her sex, arse and mouth. She coughed and spat out a globule of spunk. The man at her rear had finished and pulled out of her. Already her bottom was sore and her cunt ached from the twin assaults going on inside her belly.
“Have mercy, for pity’s sake,” she pleaded. “I can’t take all of you, not in my mouth and bottom.”
“You’ll have what the master orders,” Galba said gleefully.
“Fuck the master,” she blurted, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.
Galba ignored that and ordered another three men onto the table. “You’re going to have all of us whether you like it or not, so you may as well shut your trap,” he said, stroking his chin in thought.
While another three men mounted her he whispered to the nearest gladiator. “I’ll wager you fifty denarius she can take both of us in her mouth.”
The Arena of Torment Page 9
