At the crucifix, Fortuna was flogging slave after slave, lashing them with all the fury of her strength. She too, was mindful of the emperor’s attention and knew that failure to please him could result in immediate execution. The crucified slaves were bound with ropes at their wrists, waists and ankles, but it was unseen agony they suffered most. Each crucifix had been fitted with a huge phallus impaling the bound women. The more they struggled and writhed under the lash, the greater the pain as the phallus imbedded itself deeper into their sexes. Their faces contorted at the pain and sexual torment they were suffering with every renewed stroke of the whip. Even though their flesh scorched from the burning lash they couldn’t fight the mounting orgasm it was bringing on. One by one their harsh cries of pain and ecstasy screamed from their open mouths and they slumped forward in their bonds, sexually drained and laid waste.
Nydia had turned ten times on the wheel before she too succumbed to the lash and the sexual arousal tearing at her belly and sex. Never before had she endured such pain or had such a volcanic orgasm. Her love juice flowed through her buttock crease in a torrent and trickled down her back. Uttering one last scream of agony, she hung limply on the wheel in an upright position, her head pressed against the spokes and she passed out.
“Excellent,” Domitian applauded. “Have the gladiatrices brought to me at once.”
The two women, soaked in sweat approached the emperor’s throne and bowed low. An earthy aroma of feminine sweat and sex filled his nostrils; there was nothing he liked more than the delicious smell of a woman on heat.
“You have both fought with great courage and fortitude,” he beamed. “There is nothing I enjoy more than witnessing the defeat of Rome’s enemies. As a reward one of you shall fight in the arena tomorrow against the undefeated champion of the ludus of Craxus. I think I shall choose you, the black gladiatrix. You shall be fully armoured and it shall be a fight to the death.”
“Thank you, your imperial highness,” she bowed, and he reached forward and patted her sweating thigh.
“If you are victorious, I shall grant a thousand sestertii.”
He touched her on the shoulder and both gladiatrices bowed low, then turned to the cheering audience and held their arms high.
Octavia and Glaucus were on their feet applauding and watching Africanus favoured by the emperor.
“She has made us rich today,” Glaucus remarked.
Not as rich as I’m going to be tomorrow, Octavia thought, and both the ludus and Africanus would be her sole property. If the gladiatrix went on displaying such prowess she would earn her weight in gold. She slipped her arm around Glaucus’ waist and smiled grimly as Nydia was taken down from the wheel and dragged to the cells below. Even if the artful little bitch had been up to no good Octavia had little to worry about. Another bout in the arena and she would be dead anyway, and she reached for Glaucus’ cock; smiling.
Chapter Thirteen
“I can’t sleep,” Africanus muttered, turning over on her bed.
Fortuna padded softly across the room and climbed beside her. “You’re worried about tomorrow. Don’t be, my love. You will be victorious. The Gods will see to that. Remember to make your devotions to Nemesis and she will favour you.”
Africanus rolled over and laid her thigh over Fortuna. “I’d rather you favoured me with your big cock.”
Fortuna clicked her tongue and smiled. “It seems you just can’t get enough of my weapon.”
They both laughed and hugged each other close. “I’ve fallen in love with you. Can’t you understand that?”
“I knew it from the first time we met, and it may surprise you that the feeling was instantly mutual. Do you want us to fuck each other now?”
The silence and a hand squeezing her breast answered her question, and she got up to go to the cabinet where her personal possessions were stored.
“I have a little surprise for you,” Fortuna beamed, and held up a different implement than the one they had used before.
It was a male cock, beautifully fashioned, long and thick, but both ends were the same, each possessing the head of a penis as if two huge cocks had been joined together at the middle.
“Now lie on your back and open your legs,” Fortuna whispered. “Bend your knees and then prop yourself up on your elbows if you prefer.”
Africanus did her bidding, spreading her legs and bending them. Fortuna slipped her legs under Africanus’ raised knees and shuffled her bottom between the gleaming black thighs. Gingerly, she eased the dildo into her own sex, then positioned the other end at Africanus’ gaping slit. A gentle push of her hips had the dildo going into both sexes at the same time, and Africanus sucked her breath.
“We’re both going to fuck each other with the same cock!” she gasped, as it slipped deeper into her hot tunnel.
Fortuna gave a final shove of her loins and rammed home the dildo until they were both fully penetrated. Then she sat up and held out her arms. Africanus grasped her wrists and, using only their hips and buttocks as levers, they began to rock steadily back and forth, forcing the dildo to ride fuck them both as they bent to and fro like rowers in a heavy swell.
Glorious in their nakedness, sweat now forming on their skin, they rocked harder, admiring their splendid swinging breasts and erect, pulsating nipples, the crease across their bellies which came and went with every thrust. Soon the air was thick with heavy breathing and low throaty moans. Their eyelids grew heavy with longing and they rocked faster, eager to bring each other off. Fortuna wriggled her buttocks harder into the fork of Africanus’ thighs and now their pubic hair and swollen sex lips rubbed and sucked, mingling their already hot, flowing juices. Suddenly, as if on a prearranged signal, both women slammed their hips and thighs together with all the strength they could muster. Their ample breasts shook and quivered at every thrust and pant.
“I’ve never been fucked like this!” Africanus moaned, digging her heels hard into the floor.
“I’m going to make you come like a river,” Fortuna returned, thrusting her strong pelvis.
“I’m going to fuck you sore,” Africanus sobbed, feeling her whole body tingling.
Now riding on a wave of ecstasy, not caring who saw or heard them, both women gave vent to their long pent up feelings.
“I want to suck your tits,” Africanus laughed, looking at Fortuna’s wobbling breasts.
“I’m going to get my tongue so far up your cunt you’ll think I’m swallowing the whole of you.”
“After this, I’m going to beat you ‘til you scream for mercy, you beautiful looking bitch.”
“And I shall lick every inch of your shining black skin, you wonderful whore.”
And so it went on. Loving abuse poured from their mouths as they rode harder and harder, driving each other wild with their manic thrusting and heaving. Under their buttocks a pool of love juice mingled and stuck to their perspiring skin, making their arses slither and slip and their hips more ardent in their massive plunges.
“You smell like a mare in heat,” Fortuna laughed, wrenching at Africanus’ wrists.
The black gladiatrix responded with a sudden jolt of her hips and Fortuna’s lungs inhaled deeply, pushing out her breasts.
Keeping the dildo deep inside them, they bent their backs, leaning so far into each other their lips crushed. They kissed until it hurt, forcing their tongues to the backs of their throats, twisting and turning them until their mouths ached. Then they lost all control; they let go of their wrists and, keeping the dildo lodged tight in their cunts’ began slapping and hitting their breasts and nipples, gnashing their teeth as the globes wobbled and swung from side to side. They slapped and punched their bellies, hips and thighs, then, as the stinging blows increased the pain in their tingling skin they came in a torrent, pouring out their hot, creamy juices. Cries of ecstasy echoed through the subterranean passag
es and the both collapsed on their backs, panting and gasping, their strength drained, but still the dildo remained deep inside their dripping tunnels.
“Phew,” Africanus breathed, wiping her forearm across her brow. “That was the greatest fuck of my life.”
“It’s not over yet,” Fortuna grinned wickedly. She slithered from Africanus’ thighs and popped the dildo from their sexes. “Now suck,” she whispered, placing the bulbous, juice slicked head into her mouth.
They sucked on the ends of the dildo, drawing it into their mouths, getting closer until their lips almost met, and not stopping until the juice was licked dry. Fortuna reached out and fondled her lover’s breasts, pinching and rolling the throbbing nipples. Africanus placed her hand under Fortuna’s breast and cupped the freckled globe. Their breathing came in frantic gasps as they tumbled into a long, passionate embrace. Their arms and legs went around hips and buttocks, hugging each other close. Desperately their fingers went between their legs, sliding into their soaking tunnels, teasing their clitorises until they both reached their second orgasm. Sweat dripped and ran from their thrashing bodies, writhing and twisting as their arms pumped faster and faster. Africanus’ legs kicked out wide but Fortuna grabbed her thigh and held it rigid. She bent her head, her tongue swept up the long black pillar, licking the sweat from the gleaming skin. Africanus seized her head and held it between her legs.
“Suck my cunt,” she breathed.
Fortuna eased her body round and her eager tongue went straight into her sex, lapping at the oozing juice, almost suffocating between the crushing thighs.
“I’m coming again,” Africanus sobbed, and lifted her bottom high off the bed.
Juice welled from her sex and Fortuna did not stop licking until every drop had been swallowed. They lay exhausted in each other’s arms until daybreak when one of the armourers knocked on their cell door.
“I’m to take the black one to the armoury,” he said, wrinkling his nose at the sex laden air.
The gladiatrices parted and stood up stretching their aching limbs. “Who am I fighting?” Africanus asked casually.
“His name is Circo,” he said flatly.
She looked as if the thunder God had struck her with his own hammer.
“Circo,” she whispered, open mouthed.
“Aye, and to the death. The emperor has commanded it. But I’ll let you into a secret,” he moved into the cell and closed the door, lowering his voice to a harsh whisper. “The emperor has let it be known that after the contest you are to be scrubbed and taken to his palace. Your body will be his to do with as he pleases.”
“Assuming she wins,” Fortuna interrupted.
The armourer shot her a sly glance. “She can’t fail. Circo is to be disabled before the contest. A knife under his right arm will stop him from wielding his sword. Now, after you’ve washed all that cunt juice from your stinking skin, make your way to the armoury and select your weapons. If I were you, I’d go for the trident. One good thrust and he’ll be out of the contest and you’ll be romping in the emperor’s bed.”
And he left slamming the door behind him.
“It’s not fair,” Africanus sobbed, stunned at the news.
After all this time she was to fight Circo, the only man she had ever respected or loved, but he was to be crippled before he even lifted his sword. She sat on the edge of the bed and buried her face in her hands.
“Never mind,” Fortuna consoled. “It’s how things are here.”
Not if I can help it, Africanus thought, and walked slowly to the baths, her mind in turmoil.
“Get up,” the slave master grunted, kicking Nydia in the ribs. “You’ve been bought, and be thankful for it, or you’d be back in the arena as beast bait.”
Nydia struggled to her feet from where she had lain all night long, hugging her knees and cursing the day she’d ever set eyes on the House of Olives and its revolting inmates. Naked, her back, bottom and legs still throbbing from Africanus’ whip, she padded softly behind the slave master, wondering what fresh terror awaited.
The slave master showed her into a cell and they were alone. “Your new master has commanded you to take this food to the gladiator, Circo, and also to hand him this note. Do you understand that, you thick little tart?”
She nodded dumbly and lifted a plate of porridge. The note she kept clutched in her hand as she made her way to Circo’s cell.
“You!” he said, eyeing her with undisguised dislike. “The crawling little lizard I caught snooping around the gladiatrices’ cells.”
“I am to give you this,” she whispered, keeping her head bowed.
He snatched the note and read it, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Your master will meet you at the gate to the gladiator’s quarters,” he said softly, crumpling the note in his hand. “Tell him I shall be there as he commands. Move fast, you little shit, and if you so much as breathe a word, I’ll slit your throat.”
She was gone like an arrow from a bow, running along the corridor, hoping her new master would at least give her some clothes to cover her nakedness. Her new master remained in the shadows and told her to go to the gladiatrix and deliver the same command. She hurried off and found Africanus getting out of her bath. No one paid any attention to a naked slave girl sidling up to the black woman and offering to towel her dripping body. She delivered the message in a hushed whisper, keeping her distance in case the gladiatrix flattened her with a smack of her fist. But she just gave her a towel to wrap around her hips.
“You are to come with me,” Africanus said seriously, going to her cell and putting on her tunic.
Fortuna was in her own cell fast asleep and there was no time to wake her or bid farewell.
“Forgive me, my darling,” she whispered, and kissed her lightly on the cheek.
Quickly, Africanus and the slave girl made their way to the gate where Circo was waiting in the shadows. As arranged with the turnkey, the gate was unlocked, and all three made their way silently through the gladiatrices’ barracks and into the street just as the sun rose over the sleeping city. Both Africanus and Circo were itching to hold each other in their arms, but there was no time. They went speedily to the city gate and passed through, going along the Apian Way to a rendezvous far out in the countryside.
While the three fugitives fled the city, Octavia was reclining on a couch mentally calculating how much profit she’d made out of Africanus’ successful bout, and how much more there was to be made when she fought again that day. With the patronage of the emperor and now, Octavia was certain; the gladiatrix legally her property, all sorts of possibilities beckoned. For one thing, she was going to be very rich. The emperor would reward her well for the black gladiatrix’ sexual favours and she might even start her own gladiatrix training school which could easily double as a brothel. After all, she had a good idea gained from first hand knowledge how such places operated. She clapped her hands summoning her slave, and stretched out her long, splendid legs.
“You summoned me, mistress,” the slave said from behind her.
Octavia’s blood froze in her veins as the slave’s hand lighted on her shoulder.
“Quintus!” she uttered, her throat suddenly dry.
“Your little plan to have me murdered, or sold into slavery hasn’t quite come off,” he said, moving around the couch. “Before you set out to double cross, always ensure that you yourself are not going to be double crossed into the bargain.”
“That bastard, Plutarc,” she hissed.
Quintus was facing her now and terrifying in his placidity. “In exchange for a couple of nubile slave girls and a few sestertii, he told me everything; all about your activities as a part time whore in the House of Olives, the time you met, the things you discussed and your partiality for rough sex. Well, you are about to get as much rough sex as you want, but first I have a little sc
ore of my own to settle, my beautiful, faithless, murderous wife.”
“Please, Quintus, it was all Glaucus’ doing,” she pleaded, inching away from his approaching body. “He put me up to it because he wanted to sponsor the black gladia…Aaagh!”
“Liar!” he shouted, smacking her across the head. “I know all about you and Glaucus. He squealed like a pig when the gladiator put a sword to his throat.”
He grabbed her hair and dragged her across the floor. A slave dutifully arrived with a long length of rope and a whip.
“You like rough sex, well, here’s something for starters.”
The slave knew exactly what to do and went to work with the proficiency of an expert. He threw her over his shoulder and carried her to the nearest column. It was about the right size for her arms to reach all the way around its circumference. He tied her wrists tightly on the other side of the column and then, with a single tear, ripped the robe from her back.
The Arena of Torment Page 20
