“I’d rather play with you,” she simpered, flashing her eyes.
He had to admit that she was pretty with her hair tied up behind. He wondered how old she was, probably older than she looked, somewhere about eighteen or twenty he guessed. But he preferred more mature women with ripe, full bodies who knew how to fuck.
“Go back to bed, before I put you over my knee and slap your bottom,” he said, not unkindly, and walked off.
“You won’t slap me,” she whispered. “Not now. I know all about you. I know everything.”
Chapter Eight
After the re-enactment of Persiphae and the Bull, Glaucus had given the matter a lot of thought. He had paid the occasional visit to Quintus’ ludus and seen the black gladiatrix in combat against her trainer and was satisfied with her progress. She had now reached the stage where her trainer had judged her competent to use the rudis, the wooden sword, and she had got used to wearing a helmet with its restricted vision, and to carrying a shield to defend herself against her opponent. He also liked the look of her physically. Her black skin looked both sensational and sexually alluring when it took on that shimmering gleam. Fighting almost naked would definitely attract the mob seated in the arena. As far as he knew there wasn’t another black gladiatrix in any of the training schools, which gave him a definite advantage over the other sponsors. He’d heard through the political grapevine that the new emperor, Domitian, who had just succeeded Titus, son of Vespasian, who had commissioned the mighty Colosseum, was eager to stage a number of games including battles and combats between gladiatrices. It seemed that women fighting naked or semi-naked was drawing in the crowds, and Glaucus knew there wasn’t a moment to lose if he was to act as sponsor. Even the emperor’s envoys had been sent to his villa asking when he could stage his next show. He looked out across the Justinian Hills with their vineyards and farms and felt that life was good, and would be even better when Octavia arrived that very afternoon.
Octavia’s carriage laboured up the hill towards his villa and she saw in what splendour he lived. Numerous slaves toiled in the gardens tending the flowering shrubs and keeping the ponds free of weeds. She shielded her eyes against the sun reflecting off the whitewashed walls and envied him.
“When will she be ready for real combat?” Glaucus asked her, when they were seated under the shade of the portico.
“Her trainer thinks she’ll be ready in about six to eight weeks,” Octavia replied, sipping a delicious vintage.
“As long as that!” he returned disbelievingly, and stood up pacing the floor. “We haven’t got that much time, Octavia.”
Then he told her all about the new emperor, his desire to stage female naked combat and the urgency if he, Glaucus was to act as sponsor.
“We have to get in first and beat off the competition. In a month it might be too late, especially if Polonius gets wind of the emperor’s intentions, if he doesn’t know already.”
Now it was Octavia’s turn to pace the floor. She looked splendid with the sun shining through her transparent dress, her curvaceous legs moving in long, purposeful strides, and her breasts quivering with every step. But this was no time for sexual thoughts. There was the matter of Africanus being fit for combat and it had to be resolved here and now.
“I think it would pay to send her into the arena in Marcellum,” Octavia suggested, “I’m sure you could sponsor a combat, perhaps with one of the women criminals or thieves from the gaol, after all they’re only sword fodder, and it would enable us to judge her ability in a real arena, and perhaps make some money into the bargain.”
There was a lot of sense in that suggestion. Fighting against her trainer at the ludus was one thing, engaging in combat before a large crowd with all its attendant distractions was quite another. It would also give a good indication of just how competent she really was. If she could pass muster in a provincial arena it might be just possible to pack her off to the Colosseum itself, and most importantly win the favour of the emperor together with all the benefits that would bring. But there was still the other little problem of Quintus.
“He’s fucking penniless,” Octavia swore bitterly. “He told me only the other day that he has to go to the money lenders for yet another loan.”
“So he’s hardly in a position to dictate the terms,” Glaucus reflected. “I will sponsor the girl to the tune of four thousand sestertii. If she’s wounded or killed then I’ll foot the bill. It’s a make or break situation, Octavia. Of course, if she wins, we’ll reap the rewards. I calculate making at least double the cost of the sponsorship, maybe more.”
“She’ll win,” Octavia said darkly. “How soon can you stage a show at Marcellum?”
“Shall we say, in about a week, and assuming she’s victorious, we shall be looking at the Colosseum in about two weeks after that.”
“I can’t wait,” Octavia said joyfully, and she pressed her body against him.
Glaucus had no scruples about fucking the wife of his friend. There is no sentiment in business and Octavia, as far as he was concerned, was all part of the deal.
“I think we should go to my private quarters,” he suggested, leading her by the hand.
They walked through the villa, Glaucus eager to impress her with its sumptuous surroundings, and Octavia seemed to be suitably impressed. She looked agog at the expensive furniture and magnificent frescos adorning the walls. His bedroom was no less impressive with its large window overlooking the valley below, and fragrant smells from the flowers wafting in on the breeze.
Without a moment’s hesitation she peeled off her robe and stood naked in the sun. Glaucus went to remove his own tunic but she moved forward and loosened his belt, casually tossing it aside. Her hands slipped the garment from his shoulders and went straight to his shaft, already huge and throbbing. She stroked it lovingly with a grip so soft it could have been her sex around it instead of her hand. Her fingers moved slowly up and down, squeezing at the base, then gliding up to the purple head and rolling it between forefinger and thumb.
“You’re good enough to do this for a living,” he joked, and didn’t catch the sudden look of apprehension on her face. But it was gone as soon as it came and she dropped to her knees, placing the cock head on her lower lip. Her wet tongue flicked over the tip making it more sensitive to her hot breath caressing his shaft. Her mouth opened wide, hovered for a second then completely engulfed him. Down she went, still breathing hot and heavy, pressing her soft lips into his wiry pubic hair. Glaucus heaved a deep sigh as her fine pearly teeth nibbled the base of his shaft. He could feel a sudden inrush of blood swelling his cock even harder. Her mouth came up again, sucking like new born babe on its mother’s teat. He looked down and watched her wide, voluptuous lips puckering and sucking, the lower lip trembling around the shaft, wet and glistening now from the ministrations of her tongue. Her lips sucked into the groove and sucked harder drawing his whole shaft deeper into her mouth. Then, as if a thought had suddenly invaded her mind, she drew back exposing his naked cock.
“Do you have any wine?” she asked, passing the trembling head under her chin.
He left her briefly and fetched a bottle. She took it and filled her mouth with rich, amber liquid. Her head was on his cock at once, sucking him in deep. For a moment he couldn’t breathe, but held his breath as she sloshed the liquid round and round inside her mouth. His naked cock stung as her wine soaked tongue lashed around the shaft. At the corners of her lips the wine gathered then trickled down her chin. Breathless he watched it drip onto her chest and trace its course down over her breasts. The effect on her nipples was instant. The teats sprouted from the surrounding areolae which pimpled and shriveled, getting larger and expanding over the pale surrounding flesh.
She slipped his shaft from her lips and again reached for the bottle. She drank greedily and swallowed his shaft, but this time her hand pulled it gently downward until it w
as in line with her arched throat. Then, inhaling a deep breath she engulfed his whole length. Her hands signaled a riding motion and he didn’t need to be told twice what she wanted.
“I’ll ride your mouth till I come,” he told her, and rocked gently on his heels, taking time to ease his shaft in and out of her mouth and throat.
Her tongue flicked rapidly at the shaft and lashed at the head when it rested momentarily on her lower lip. Then he rocked again and watched his cock disappear inch by inch between her sucking lips. Octavia shuffled forward on her knees until her breasts were level with his thighs. With the erect nipples only just touching, she began to snake her shoulders, moving them in a slow circular motion, shaking her breasts and pressing the nipples lightly over his skin.
Glaucus almost wept at the feel of her tongue and breasts. A lesser man would have come down her throat at that very moment, but he was determined to hold back. Having a woman like Octavia sucking his cock was an experience not to be thrown away in an instant. She pulled back and, taking the bottle, upended the neck over his cock. The liquid ran fast into his hair and her mouth was there at once, sucking in his wine drenched scrotum, passing his balls from one side of her mouth to the other, but not for an instant did her teeth graze the crinkled skin.
“It’s like being in your cunt,” he said, clutching fistfuls of her hair.
“Maybe that’s where it should be,” she returned, expelling his balls and pulling him to the floor.
They rolled over and over, joined at the middle, jerking and thrusting their hips, slamming hard into one another. It was Octavia who ended up on top, sitting astride him, his cock fully embedded in her sex. She reached for the bottle and passed it to him. He sat up and drank, but before he had the chance to swallow she told him to squirt it over her breasts. That was something he’d never done, not even with his slaves. The liquid hissed from his lips and splashed all over both breasts staining her skin with its bright amber hue.
“Now lick it off,” she purred.
Her arms went around his neck, hugging him close as his tongue lapped at her breasts and nipples. He drew them in deep, sucking the wine from her teats. Her skin soon turned hot and sticky and smelt strongly of the vintage.
“One day, when that black gladiatrix has made our fortune, I’m going to bathe you in wine,” he said seriously.
“You can tip it all over me and lick it off bit by bit,” she returned.
They kissed long and hard and, taking her by the hips, he bounced her up and down on his cock, not stopping until they both climaxed. He held her still delighting in her hot sex juices flowing from her lips and drenching his balls.
“You make a lot of love juice,” he complimented.
“That’s because you inflame me, my darling. Every day my cunt longs for you.”
“Soon I shall be filling it every night,” he assured her. “We’ll keep on fucking until we fall to pieces.” He looked at her wine stained skin. “Where did you learn that little trick?”
She shrugged, and then laughed. “Oh, that’s my little secret.”
Then she looked over his shoulder at the blue hills beyond and thought how wonderful it would be living here.
“I don’t think she’s ready,” Fortuna said, when Octavia told her everything she had discussed with Glaucus the previous day. “She’s fast and uses her armour well, but I shall have to work on her for another month before she’s fit for the arena.”
“There isn’t the time,” Octavia snapped. “The sponsor is arranging a show in Marcellum in less than a week.”
“Who is she fighting against?”
“The usual scum, riff raff from the prison. Female thieves and petty criminals, nobody she should worry about.”
“Will they be armed?”
“I think Glaucus mentioned that they might be given a sword or lance. I very much doubt if they’ll know how to use them, and besides, they’ll be no match for a trained gladiatrix. So stop fretting and work on her.”
Fortuna shook her head at the mercenary minded bitch striding out of the training ground, and wondered what had suddenly brought this on. As a rule no gladiator or his female counterpart ever took to the arena without being fully trained, but she reasoned, if she was only matched against common criminals she would have a sporting chance, and maybe it wouldn’t do any harm to test her anyway. In Rome it was a regular occurrence, emptying the prisons and sending their hapless inmates to their deaths in the Colosseum, pitching them defenceless against fully armoured gladiators, having them slaughtered in droves. It was the women she pitied most, running around the arena, naked, chased by sex starved men with huge erections, then fucked in public. A woman was entitled to some privacy, after all. But this was no concern of hers. What she had to do now was make sure that Africanus was fully trained and ready.
“The arena!” Africanus exclaimed. “You mean I’m actually going to fight in the arena?”
She was shaking at the prospect. Her first public display of swordsmanship. She was almost in tears now that the moment had finally arrived.
“We still have a few points to work on,” Fortuna told her. “You’re not quite up to speed with the gladius, and you don’t maintain your guard nearly as much as you should. I’m going to use my cane to teach you a few important lessons.”
With a willing heart and mind, Africanus stripped off her skirt and went into the centre of the training area. She had got used to fighting naked, except for wearing the obligatory helmet and carrying her shield, and in a way she secretly delighted showing off her honed body with all its rippling muscles and curves. There was also the added bonus that the men in the audience would be just itching to fuck her senseless but wouldn’t even have the chance of getting anywhere near her. They’d just have to go home and toss themselves off dreaming about her. Serve the bastards right, she thought, slipping her arm through the shield loops.
Fortuna too, was naked, except for a length of silk that had been tied around her waist, passed under her legs and knotted in front. It was enough to keep her sex hidden yet display the rest of her body. She knew that men found her freckled chest attractive and delighted in large breasts and dark brown nipples. She had already taught Africanus the art of thrusting out her bottom more than was necessary and shaking her enormous breasts every time she wielded the gladius. It’s what men come to see, she told her, bare arses and tits wobbling all over the place together with the added bonus of combat. And she lashed the cane hard into Africanus’ buttocks.
“Keep that shield in front of you, for fuck’s sake,” she swore.
The more intense the training, the worse the language became. It was a way of relieving the tension and keeping the mind sharp.
The cane sailed into Africanus’ unprotected buttocks and she let out a long howl. She span round and skilfully brought the shield into play, deflecting the next blow.
“Better,” her trainer acknowledged, and then sent it lashing across her back. “How many times have I told you not to be distracted when I compliment you,” she barked. “Ignore what’s going on around you and just concentrate on the cane. When you get into that arena it’ll be a real sword you’ll be up against.”
“Yes, mistress,” Africanus agreed, and parried the next blow.
Octavia watched from the arbour, proud of the black girl’s progress. There was no doubting her fitness and skill as well as her magnificent body. How that dark skin gleamed and shone in the sunlight. And those buttocks! Once the word got around that she was being fielded in the arena men would be queuing all the way to the docks to get a seat.
The cane whistled through the air, but Africanus saw it coming and knocked it clear.
“Now you’re learning,” Fortuna called, and whipped the cane towards Africanus’ breasts.
This time she ignored the compliment and concentrated on the cane. The shield came
up quickly and it bounced off it flying out of Fortuna’s hand. She went to retrieve it but Africanus got there first.
“Now I’m going to whip you,” she laughed.
Fortuna consented and strapped on her shield.
Octavia stood up to see how much of a whipping she could deliver.
Africanus bent her back, thrusting out her buttocks and letting an imaginary audience have full view of her wobbling breasts. She moved slowly like a predatory cat, going in a semi circle, then suddenly striking with full force and for once her trainer was caught off guard. The cane lashed into the small of her back and again across her buttocks.
“Better!” Africanus joked, but Fortuna was too busy rubbing her arse to notice the next blow winging in under her legs.
“Aaagh..fuck!” she screamed, her body jolting from the searing pain biting into her sex.
Even Octavia thought that amusing and clapped her hands in glee. “Well done, Africanus!” she called.
Africanus turned and saw her mistress then gave a polite bow. “Thank you, mistress,” she acknowledged.
Then she tumbled forward as Fortuna kicked her savagely on the rump. The cane was whisked from her hand and fell in quick lashes over her belly and breasts. Africanus rolled over but the cane fell on her buttocks with the full savagery of Fortuna’s strength. The smack of cane on bare flesh echoed around the walls. She managed to bring up her shield and deflect the next series of singing blows, whilst artfully reaching out and grabbing her trainer’s ankle. A sharp tug brought her to the ground and Africanus sat astride her, smiling triumphantly.
“You move fast,” Fortuna said softly. “I think you’re ready after all.”
Then without thinking, Africanus leaned over and kissed her full on the lips.
“Thank you, Fortuna,” she whispered. “If I’m ready, it’s all because of you. You have trained me well.”
“Let’s go to our quarters and rest,” Fortuna smiled. “We have done enough for today.”
The Arena of Torment Page 12
