by Evans, Casey
“Yes indeed Praetor. You honor us with your presence here. Is there anything I can get for you? Wine, food, women…”
“Wine please. I am absolutely parched. I hadn’t remembered the town to be so dry and dusty.”
Dominus signaled for slaves to attend to the Praetor. The sooner he could be plied with drink and women the more likely he would forget to punish him for his lack of manners.
“I understand you have purchased another gladiatrix, have you not?” Asked the Praetor.
How did he find that out, he wondered? He pondered denying it, but decided the truth would suit him better.
“Yes yes, she certainly shows promise. She has been called a prodigy, but I hardly think there’s merit.”
“I’d like to see her.”
He grimaced. No good could come from whatever the Praetor was planning. But he plastered a smile on his face and answered back. “Of course. When would you like her brought up?”
“Now would be fine.”
Bastard! He called over one of his personal guards. “Ronan, see that the new gladiatrix is bathed and brought up to me immediately.”
“Belay the bathing Gaius.” Said the Praetor, rudely overruling the Dominus in his own house.
“Yes of course.” He changed the order and the guard hurried out. Gaius groaned inwardly. Already the punishment had begun.
Five minutes later Ronan, Dominus’ personal guard approached the two men, with the new gladiatrix in tow. She was a fine specimen. She stood just short of a meter, tall for a woman. She had long curly blond locks that fell about shoulders enticingly. One look between her legs was proof she was a real blond and not just another woman who bleaches her hair. She had a very generous chest and pink nipples that demanded attention. Her body already rippled in muscles from her training, but she still had a little excess fat to lose, and she’d lose it if she stayed alive long enough.
The Praetor actually got up off his seat to inspect her. She looked at him crossly as he approached, studying her face. She had one of those beautiful symmetrical faces with high cheek bones and full lips. Her bright blue eyes never failed to catch ones attention, even with the breasts she had. After studying her face the Praetor bent over, looking intently at her flat belly, then turned to Dominus.
“Look, she’s covered with blond hair. She’s just like a cat, only with blond fur. It even covers her breasts and goes all the way down over her belly and to her sex. Fascinating! But can she handle a sword?”
Gaius was afraid of this. The man was going to force some kind of blood shed during the party and it probably would mean him losing his new gladiatrix in the process.
“Of course she can Praetor, she is a gladiatrix after all.”
“Fine. Let’s have a contest, shall we?”
“Of course. Let me send up for some swords-“
“Non- sense, she can borrow my gladius.”
Gaius cringed. Any hope of their not being copious bloodshed was rapidly disappearing. He smiled and nodded his head in acquiescence. “My thanks for your generosity. Now I’ll just send for my other gladiatrix-“
The Praetor had other plans. “I would consider it an honor, and a great favor if I could be accorded the opportunity to pick an opponent of my choosing.”
“Of course Praetor. Name her opponent.”
The Praetor made a great show of it, pretending to be greatly conflicted, when all along he knew who he wanted to choose. With a wicked smile, he turned and pointed to Dominus’ eldest son, the birthday boy, Dionysius. “I choose him!”
Gaius’s heart just about ceased beating. His own son being pitted against this woman? His son has of course been training since he was big enough to hold a small knife, but his training was much different. While gladiators trained for life and death, with death always being just around the corner, his son had been trained in the fighting style of the Roman soldier; a very different style, heavily dependent on their being several fighters and not one on one combat like that gladiators were trained at. A Roman soldier was trained how to watch his brother’s back. It was a choreographed ballet whose success depended on their being at least one other person to fight with. His son was going to feel exposed…naked standing there one on one with the gladiatrix. But what could he say?
“Of course Praetor, you do my son a great honor on this 15th birthday.”
The slaves pushed away all the chairs and tables to the sides of the Great Hall so the combatants would have plenty of room to swing their swords. Whatever happened, it would be an epic battle that those present would likely never forget. Gaius could tell his son was afraid as he took his position in front of the gladiatrix. Gone was his normal arrogance and teenage bluster. His posture said it all. He carried himself slightly hunched over like he’d already lost.
* * *
The Contest
* * *
The two combatants approached each other, their styles of combat very different. Dionysius stood as a Roman soldier turned sideways presenting his left shoulder which would be protected, along with the whole side of his body by a large shield. In his right hand he held the traditional Roman weapon, the gladius. He was at a great disadvantage here because he fought like he had a shield, but he didn’t have one. The Praetor had ruled out shields in favor of each gladiator having two weapons instead; something that any gladiator could do; fighting with two weapons. On the other hand, Roman soldiers of the day fought with a single weapon at a time. Dionysius held a dagger in his left hand and the gladius in his right. His stance was backwards. He should present the sword in front of him for protection, not the tiny dagger. He may have had two weapons, but he had no idea how to fight with them. Gladiators, on the other hand, always trained with two weapons.
As they closed the distance the party goers grew silent. This was a rare treat that none of them had expected. Dominus’ son struck first. He had little combat experience and his attacks lacked creativity. It was clear he was relying on his supposed superior strength to succeed. It became obvious immediately that he was not going to get past the curtain of steel she threw up between them. In fact, the second clash of weapons sent his dagger spinning into the audience and drawing first blood. A serving girl with her back to the arena became the night’s first casualty when the blade pierced the back of her shoulder. With a scream and a spray of blood she went down to her knees, dropping a platter of drinks on the floor.
Fortunately the Dominus’ son knew enough to take advantage of a moment of distraction and scored the first hit on the gladiatrix. It was a partially deflected thrust that pierced her left forearm. It was nothing serious except for the fact that the blood would make holding on to her dagger more difficult. A fact she must have realized right away because she threw it, first chance she got; second blood. Her aim was just a little off and the blade sailed over his right shoulder. Then there was the hollow sounding thunk, followed immediately by screams of women and yells of astonishment from the men. Gaius looked just in time to see one of his guests sliding to the floor, partially suspended by her drunk companion who didn’t seem to realize what had just happened. When it did dawn on him he foolishly yanked out the dagger and got a face full of hot blood for his efforts. Those in his immediate vicinity began to vomit on the bloody floor, including himself who was still holding the dagger in his hands. The screams behind him distracted the inexperienced boy and for an instant he looked. His head swiveled around, and the tip of his gladius dropped an inch and a half. I was all the invitation she needed. She took a quick step to close the distance and made a quick jab at the boy’s unprotected chest. The flat blade slipped between his ribs and pierced a lung. Even before the boy knew it was over pink frothy blood was bubbling out between his lips. The gladiatrix, horrified at what she’d done, slain a mere inexperienced boy dropped her gladius and sank to her knees sobbing.
Half the party goers were grabbing and downing drinks as fast as they could swallow, and the other half were rushing out, shouting apologies over their s
houlders. Gaius was cradled his son’s head, wiping away the blood as it continued to ooze from between his lips. He was scarcely aware of the Praetor’s departure. The man wanted to put some distance both physically and emotionally from the tragedy that he played a part in. Fortunately he was the Praetor here and not the Lanista. Had the tables been turned and he was the low ranking man he would be mired in legal trouble. But the law was not the least of the Praetor’s worries right now. A scandal like this could put a halt in his political aspirations permanently. No, the last thing he wanted was to be associated with the mess in the House of Lanista Gaius Gracchus Tiberius.
* * *
Part Two
Trying to Forget
* * *
It didn’t take long for news of the tragedy to get down to the gladiator’s cells. The ones who’d been there had yet to return, but news came from the doctor that the Master of the House had lost his eldest son on is birthday no less. The doctor warned everyone to be on their best behavior and to expect things to get a little crazy for a while. A couple hours later shouting could be heard from the roof of the villa. They didn’t know it at the time but it was Dominus standing on the roof, a bottle of wine in each hand, and threatening to jump. Eventually he must have been talked down because later a slave was sent to collect Petronia for a special duty. While Petronia was bathing and getting ready the doctor showed up again, still in his bloody clothing.
“What now?” She snapped at him.
“Do nothing to set him off again. I have just given him something to settle him down and just maybe he’ll sleep and he won’t trouble you at all.”
“Is that really likely?”
“No. At best, you’re in for a rough time. At worst, it was the other Gladiatrix who sent his son to an early grave. He might take it out on you.”
“But what of the other girl? What did he do to her?”
“Nothing yet. I think he’s deciding what the worst thing he can is before he extracts his revenge on her.”
Ten minutes later another slave, one of the Lanista’s personal guards came to retrieve her. He put a leash around her neck and shoved her to her knees. She started to get back up, but the slave gave a quick tug on the leash and Petronia was forced down to her hands and knees. She reached up with her right hand, intending on taking some of the pressure off her neck from the leash, but as soon as she picked up her hand from the dirty stone floor, the guard yanked hard and she went sprawling in her belly, only just keeping her face off the floor. She started to rise, but a boot placed firmly on her back forced her to stay flat on the cold stone floor. The harder she squirmed, the more pressure the guard put on her bare back.
“Stop your struggling bitch!” He spat.
She forced herself to lie still, barely breathing for fear he would do something else. Presently he removed his boot and pulled up on the leash. She came up on her hands and knees, but the moment she started to rise further, the evil man yanked on her leash making it impossible to do anything but stay on all fours.
She knew where he was taking her; to her Dominus’ chambers of course. However, she also knew that the guard knew where the chambers were, and that he was taking a circuitous route purposely, in order to prolong the humiliation at his hands. Soon her knees were scraped and bloodied, and her hands were not doing much better. Whenever she attempted to slow down, he would give a vicious yank on the leash causing her to sprawl face first on the cold stone floor. Pain she could take; she was a gladiator after all. But the humiliation? That was still new to her. After ten minutes of this she came to the firm conclusion that she would choose pain any day over this kind of treatment.
Presently they came to the Dominus’ chambers. He was lying on a very large bed, and a huge beast of a dog was lying on a rug at the foot of the bed. She didn’t remember there being a dog in the Villa.
“She is here as requested, my Lord.” The slave announced.
“Leave us, and see to it we’re not disturbed for any reason, by anybody, even the Domina.”
“Yes my Lord.”
“If we are disturbed I’ll tie you to the whipping post until the crows pick the flesh from your bones.”
“Yes my Lord.”
The slave dropped the leash and left the room, closing the door behind him. Petronia dared not look up, but remained on all fours like a beast, waiting for her punishment. She heard some rustling around on the bed, then the flap of feet on the stone floor. A moment later she was looking on the feet of her master, standing in front of her. Reaching down, he took her leash and pulled her to her bloodied knees. She was kneeling there, face to face with a long tanned cock, hanging between his legs and swinging in the breeze. He pulled on her leash, forcing her face to press up against his soft member. She could smell his manly scent and already it was having an effect on her. She pressed her lips to his warm shaft, giving it a soft kiss before parting them and letting her tongue taste his manhood. He moaned softly as she ran her tongue up and down his hardening shaft, and intentionally avoiding the head of his cock. She started again at his smooth balls, running her tongue up his shaft, but this time she didn’t stop. She let the tip of her tongue run up under the head, then slipped it into her mouth. She heard an audible gasp and felt his swollen member jump around in her mouth as she ran her tongue around its sensitive underside. After a delicious minute or two she let it slip from her mouth and studied the gorgeous head of his cock. She longed to slip her fingers into her dripping sex, but she knew better than to try to take any more pleasure from the encounter. Instead she took his dripping cock back into her mouth, savoring the manly flavor of his pre cum as it oozed out onto her tongue and down her throat. She never tired of the feeling of power oral sex gave her over men. She may be a lowly slave, but she could make him helpless and begging just by sucking his cock. Men were so weak that way. It made them pathetic as a species. Sex gave women the control, and most men were too stupid to realize that.
After a few more minutes of bobbing up and down on his cock, Petronia felt another pair of hands on her hips. Rough, powerful hands gripped her painfully, pulling her away from the Dominus’ cock. Not wanting to lose her plaything, she reached an arm around his waist and pulled him into her, jamming his entire length all the way to his balls into her open mouth, nearly causing her to gag.
She felt her knees being forced farther and farther apart, until she felt like she was being split into. A rough, oiled hand began applying the slippery fluid along her ass from clit to anus, then she felt the tip of a finger slip into her ass. She winced briefly in pain and shock. Instinctively she tried to close her knees, but a firm pair of legs forced them even farther apart. Once more the finger swirled around her opening before slipping in an inch. She flinched, tightening her muscles for an instant, then relaxing. Suddenly, before she knew what was happening, the finger rammed into her all the way to the last knuckle. At first all she felt was an intense burning sensation, before giving way to faint feelings of pleasure in an area she’d never believed could have been possible. The faster the man’s finger plunged in and out, the more intense the feelings of pleasure were. Despite the presence of a huge throbbing cock in her mouth she still managed to moan pleasure. Then all of a sudden the finger withdrew. She moaned angrily and sucked harder on the Dominus’ cock, trying to force him to shoot a hot load down her throat.
Suddenly she felt a great weight on her back, and hot breath on the back of her neck. She squirmed under the weight trying to shake it off. Whoever it was, was just too heavy for her small frame. The next thing that happened shocked her to the core. She felts a huge red hot iron rod thrusting up against the opening of her anus, far too big to fit in; she thought, but she was already lubricated from her own excitement. If a finger felt so delicious, how could a cock not? She spread out her knees further and thrust her ass up into the air, while rocking back on the rigid tool. She felt a sudden powerful thrust of the other’s hips and a white hot lightning bolt of pain shooting inside her splitting her as
under. The harder she was ass fucked, the more force she put into her cock sucking and in seconds she was rewarded with another geyser of cum sluicing down her throat, and squirting out around his shaft and down her chin and neck. He rammed, she sucked, and behind her another man fucked; or so she thought.
Suddenly she felt the cock inside her ass change in size and shape; it that was even possible. The hot breath on the back of her neck smelled different and the weight on her back was a fraction of what it had been. What the hell was going on she wondered? She started to twist her neck around to get a look at who was penetrating her, but a low growl made her freeze in place. A growl? She felt the hands on her hips change too. Where there were soft finger tips, there were nails digging into her soft flesh. The thrusting became so fast, almost machine like. No one could move that fast. Not that she was complaining about that; it felt delicious. She started to turn her head around again, but she was stopped by a pair of strong jaws on the back of her neck. Hot breath filled her nostrils, and as the beast, yes it had to be a beast, rammed her ass, she began to experience a thunderous, gut wrenching orgasm like she had never experienced before. She felt the world around her fading out, and finally before he vision went, she saw a great black dog-like beast of a man curling up on the rug at the foot of the bed. Dominus was standing in front of her, cock still dripping, and drinking from a cup of wine.
“Any chance she’ll remember any of this tomorrow?” He asked.
She was about to reply, when she noticed he wasn’t even looking at her. He seemed to be asking the dog. And even more shocking was the reply. The beast looked up at him and made some kind of growl.
“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Dominus replied. “I suppose you’re right.”
Petronia passed out.
* * * * *
CHAPTER SEVEN:
