Dark Days (Written Pictures #2)

by H. A. Kotys

Breast, butt, bell, crotch; all received the outlandish jester’s attentions and each time she covered one area, she exposed another. She couldn’t keep up with his hands and her body bucked and twisted in a strangely enforced dance to the orange-haired clown who called and cawed, taunting her in a sing song voice, “Ki-Ki, Ki-Ki, poor little Ki-Ki!”

  The painted lips turned down and bobbing up left then right then left again, the man darted to remain in her line of sight, no matter how she tried to avoid it. “Ki-Ki cryyyyy for Jester,” he teased, wrinkling his face and screwing balled fists in front of his eyes to mock her.

  Suddenly, arms flailing wide, he dashed to the side again, poking her tummy before slapping her exposed ass, then squeezing her breast as she flicked out the useless rubber crop to try to knock his invasive hand away.

  == ~ ==

  Alexei watched as the Jester teased and toyed, playing to the crowd, spurring them ever higher in readiness for the main event that had been staged in celebration. This was the start of his crowning glory and yet it didn’t feel quite right. His laughter felt a little false, and he wondered whether he would laugh at all if his sister’s eyes weren’t on him, assessing him instead of watching the further degradation of his slave.

  “I’m almost too overwhelmed to laugh!” he shot in his native tongue as cover, snapping his head round with a broad smile to Natalia. “Thank you, sister dear, this celebration will indeed be one to remember!” And in response, Natalia forced her own smile to reflect his, though inside neither had substance beneath the veneer.

  == ~ ==

  Round and round the Jester went, urged by the crowd to continue his torment, jangling the bells on the end of his feet as a comedic echo to the bells that swayed and rang from bare breasts.

  Turning and twisting, she tried in vain to shut out the crescendo of sounds that accompanied her humiliation. It seemed to get louder and louder, drowning her in a sea of noise, pummelling her pride in a relentlessly ironic assault of liberty bells.

  She stumbled as she tried to watch the Jester while he circled and cackled his scorn, exposing herself to the thrust of his hand between her legs. Abruptly he stopped squarely before her and, with a ceremonial flourish of his wrist, he snatched back his hand and licked each finger lasciviously. A smile curled across his ridiculously painted yellow lips and he screamed to the crowd in broken English, “She is ready!!” to an outbreak of rapturous applause.

  Bowing low, the effeminate man sneered at the strangely dressed woman who stood motionless in the middle of the ring, taking his exit with a lurid smile as his tongue slithered out and sampled her taste once more.

  Tears still trickled down Jacqueline’s streaked face, watching her tormentor who winked and flickered out his tongue to taste his fingers yet again. With a flowing sweep of his arm, he froze, chin thrusting out, pointing stiffly up to the gallery. Miserably, her blurred eyes followed, if only to move from watching his display of vulgarity.

  The crowd quietened and even while she was blinking and slowly focussing, Jacqueline knew who it was she would see.

  Alexei paused, milking the adoration of the crowd while the expectation built, allowing him to drink in the full spectacle of his position. He needed this moment, their support. For the election, for the pipeline, for his future, he needed it. He couldn’t let his anger at her treatment show.

  Slowly, the crowd settled - hubbub decaying to murmur and murmur finally to absolute silence. Satisfied he could not wring more attention from his chosen guests, Alexei’s booming voice rang out powerfully around the arena as, with a broad sweep of his arms, he finally started his declaration. “Your esteemed Royal Highness,” he announced, his gaze settling on a figure sheathed in flowing white robes who courteously nodded an acknowledgement with an added flourish of his right hand. “Ladies. Gentlemen. Let my Games begin!”

  CHAPTER XLI – Seconds Out

  To a herald of hunting horns, all eyes turned to large wooden doors at the side of the arena. Jacqueline’s followed, settling on the door. The sound of a sturdy metal latch scraping open drifted across the dusty floor and the heavy doors swung back though without the squeaky serenade of hinges that she had expected, hinting toward their regular use. She peered into the dark beyond. There, framed by the high doorway, a shadowy figure stood and to a ripple of applause, stepped forward.

  The applause built as the male emerged into the arena and when fully in view, all stood without exception; a standing ovation to a much anticipated arrival. It was an arrival that shot ice into her veins and, despite the ferocity of the late summer sun, chilled her to the marrow.

  There, body glistening with oil, stood a beast of a man. His steroid-built muscles rippled beneath a riveted leather harness and, flexing first one bicep then the other, he displayed to the whooping crowd. Drawing himself up to his full height, he tossed his shoulder length hair back and spread his arms wide. With his large, balled fists shaking, he threw his head back and roared as he basked in the adulation.

  She could only look on as a horrific realisation crept over her. There, draping from one hand was a net, while the other clutched a trident. Strapped to his over-muscled thigh was a scabbard, from which jutted a handle, attached to what she didn’t really want to know. She had seen pictures of such things before and her mind hurtled back to a three day stay in Turkey when she had had time to herself between evenings demonstrating her art.

  She had visited the Roman Amphitheatre at Aspendos. There she had listened more than she had expected to, her passing interest piqued by the tales of the guide, regaled in his heavily-accented English. One of the most significant arenas of the Roman World, he had shown his tour party faded frescos of the type of men who had once fought and died inside.

  It was a realisation she wished she had not made and her mind raced to piece the puzzle together. His Games – that was what Alexei called them. The arena. The clothing of the man who stood immense before her. All were colours that painted the picture and then as she looked at him, his head rolled forward and she recognised the heavy brow that shielded the dark, foreboding eyes of Yuri.

  ‘Retiarius,’ her memory interjected inconveniently. That was the name of the type of gladiator facing her. Thought to be the lowest of the gladiators, he fought as a fisherman using speed and agility to beat more heavily armed opponents, though to her, with Yuri’s usual lumbering gait in mind, this seemed a parody, something else to mock.

  The traditional opponent of the Retiarius was a Secutor, armed with a tall, rectangular shield and a sword. Jacqueline trailed her mind down her own outfit, from ineffective round rubber shield to useless rubber crop to boots that would hinder her agility. Her eyes never left Yuri. This was not supposed to be an even fight, she realised that very quickly. It was purely a continuation of the ridiculing of “Miss Americana” as the Jester, still pacing around near her, announced her as in an excited cry to the crowd.

  Yuri’s first move was snarled toward her left. Circling right, Jacqueline stumbled slightly in her impossible heels. Yuri instantly snapped the trident forward but her reactions were still good and she twisted away, thrusting her chest out as a result to the tinkling of the liberty bells.

  The protector that was the Raven within her sparked instantly to life and slashed her crop down hard on Yuri’s muscled forearm, only for it to bend around it uselessly. His eyes sparkled with humoured scorn, hers widened in dismay, though the crop’s ineffectiveness should have come as no surprise. It was just her against him, beauty against beast but beauty could see nothing but failure.

  The crowd delighted at the first clash and as the two warriors sprang back and circled each other again, howled for more. The next lunge of the trident was parried with her shield but it bent back easily and the prongs connected with Raven’s arm. The contact point was marked by an explosion of pain from the electric shock that crackled from Yuri’s weapon.

  It was nothing more than a cattle prod, and she, Miss Americana, was the sacrificial cow. The electricity amp
lified in circles around the metal bands on her arms had her muscles screaming and she shook her arm to try to shake away the shock.

  Raven staggered away, desperate to put distance between them while sucking in air to recover and take stock. She couldn’t know that what she assumed had been polish on her suit was in reality a conductive gel. Natalia knew and smiled down from the gallery, enjoying its full effect for the first time.

  Exposed chest heaving, Miss Americana hunched, sizing up her next move, buying time. She couldn’t just wait for Yuri’s attacks – in time he would overpower her, so she had to act fast. With a cry of defiance, she launched at the huge man, raising the crop before flashing it down to slash across his cheek, slicing his skin with the very tip.

  With a wail of outrage, his hand shot to his face and she felt the first hint of confidence creep back. The crowd roared, spurring on the Russian bear as he drew himself back up to full height.

  The predator once again, Raven started to circle the man as he gathered himself from the surprise of the crop, crossing one foot in front of the other as she moved to always keep him in direct sight. She would always need Raven, there was no longer any doubt. She would outlast them, win through.

  Adrenalin coursed through her body, enlivening it, readying it for fight. Bringing Red here was their mistake – they couldn’t know their history and it was the thread of hope that she knew would see her through. She didn’t yet know how but it was an edge she would use.

  She was Raven and she stood tall, thrusting her bare chest out in defiance of her opponent, her captors, everyone in the galleries above. Sure, they could laugh but she also knew they would leer. They would want to touch breasts that could silence a room and so she arched her back slightly, standing tall, proud. Standing as Raven. Standing facing in the direction of Alexei.

  The large man edged to the side, breathing heavily in the heat, watching the woman with narrowing eyes. He was wary now. She posed an unexpected threat and he dodged automatically as her crop flicked out again, a warning to discourage approach.

  The trident-shaped cattle prod lunged out again and dextrously, Raven parried it with the rubber shield which insulated her against the discharge. They hadn’t thought of that either the fuckers. With a flourish, she shimmied to her right, adding just a little extra twist. She was starting to enjoy herself.

  The huge man lunged a second time and she repeated the move, gaining more confidence with each parry despite the first shock having left her arm sluggish and the discomfort starting to again nag in her shoulder. The high boots, meant to be a hindrance, felt now like mere extensions to her own legs and she would show them off the next chance she got.

  Trying another tactic, Yuri flailed out the net. Ducking low and away, Raven avoided it easily, extending her leg in a curtsy just for show and felt it slither over her back. The cost was the display of her naked crotch to the crowd, firing it another step closer to frenzy but she didn’t care now, this was a show.

  A smile unfurled along Yuri’s lips. He swept the net out again lower this time. Raven only narrowly avoided it by jumping to the sound of bells. It was precisely what he had wanted and, yanking it up, it tangled her stilt-like heel. He tugged hard and unbalanced, she fell heavily to the dust-covered floor, landing on her exposed rear.

  == ~ ==

  Alexei leant forward at the sight of her fall. His urge to see more of her was growing exponentially as she fought and matched the far larger man. As her body stretched out where she fell, he couldn’t help but see it on his bed, awaiting his arrival, expectant of his passion, needing his cock. He felt things stir, a growing erection he hid by leaning further forward still, hoping that to a casual observer he appeared to be engrossed by the display.

  == ~ ==

  A fencing expert would have been proud. With a decisive stride forward, Yuri drove the cattle prod hard into her naked crotch, melting Raven’s world in scolding pain. A scream tore from the very pit of her being before she scrabbled backwards, blindly kicking out with her heels to try to prevent the huge man following.

  He didn’t follow. He simply stood and smiled as she scrambled away on her back, heels struggling for purchase in the dust. “For Tomas,” he snarled, watching the prone woman’s chest heave, her face showing a trace of fear as bells tinkled.

  Raven hauled herself shakily back onto her towering heels, the lingering burn in her crotch making her thighs quiver. Immediately, the large man thrust again. Her focus cleaved between trident and net and wracked by throbbing pain from more than one place, her reactions were starting to dull. Deflecting the attack as best she could, her late movement only deflected the stab of the trident onto the bell that hung from her left nipple.

  The crackle of sparks momentarily drowned out the crowd as electricity leapt greedily at the metal of the bell, swathing her breast in a scorching like no other. Raven’s head snapped back in a scream of agony. Before she could remember to look at him again she felt her head hauled further back by straps biting into her cheeks. He had circled behind her with speed belying his size.

  Instinctively she tried to pull away, but her head was wrenched backward still harder and when she tried to bite down on the strap, her jaws wouldn’t move, the ring gag holding her mouth wide open and jaws far apart.

  Gulping in air, Raven stamped down hard with her heavy heel and succeeded in raking it down the huge man’s shin, causing him to recoil, giving her precious space.

  The two combatants stood there, breathing heavily. One felt the trickles of blood from cheek and shin while the other struggled to cope with the pain inflicted on her. As Raven flexed her arm she winced with the heavy pulse of discomfort radiating from her crotch and breast that even her surging adrenalin couldn’t hide.

  Cries seeped into her senses from the crowd. “Take her down.” “Fucking hurt her!”

  Yuri responded to their calls, striding to close the gap quickly to his far smaller opponent, who foolishly stood her ground before thinking twice and backing away.

  As he lurched with his trident, Raven dodged to her side but felt the heavy blow from his other fisted hand drive down hard on her forearm. With a shriek, she pulled her arm away from further danger. A stabbing pain shooting to her fingers had her weaken the grip on her crop. A flick of his net and the crop tumbled to the floor, quickly passing from any chance of retrieval by his advance and her defensive retreat. Other priorities overtook her embarrassment at still being gagged.

  Another thrust forward and another weighty blow tore a howl from her as it pounded directly into her damaged shoulder. Raven dropped her arm to her side, trying to protect it behind her back, such was the intensity of the pulse from the prod.

  Panting hard now through the ring gag to draw in oxygen, it was clear to Raven that she couldn’t stand up to this bear of a man for much longer. He was systematically taking her apart to the endorsement of a crowd baying for the blood of a faux American icon.

  She was running out of options. She couldn’t overpower him, couldn’t even distract him sexually as tits and ass were already fully bare. Raven slunk further back slightly behind her shield and gathered what she could of herself ready for the next brutal onslaught as she tried to think.

  The first drop of drool dripped through the ring gag onto her chest and began to slither down her torso. Raven could control that about as much as she could control the monster who pitched toward her again. She jagged to one side and saliva splattered onto the wall she was now backed hard against.

  It wasn’t a good place to be cornered by such a man and, pushing off from it, Raven sprinted away to her right, as fast as the improbably high heels would allow. It was a move she would instantly regret. No more than four strides and she felt a sudden tightening on her neck as the successful casting of the net slapped around her. It stopped her dead and the pull caused her to stumble back, breasts and bells thrusting high as she bent uncomfortably and clawed to free herself just take her next breath.

  The crowd roared afr
esh. A second tug hauled her back closer to her captor, a third closer still until the large man could coil more loops of the thick netting around her head and face, trapping her in place.

  “Hello Ki-Ki,” snarled Yuri, his putrid breath inescapable while his thick arm thrust around hers, trapping them. She was hard against his body and could feel what the thrill of that was doing to him.

  Both hands tight to her side and her head held back, Raven’s fruitless struggles only resulted in the rippling of the bells that tortured both nipples and pride. Wrapping his hand deeper into the tangle of netting that captured her head, he started to drag her into the centre of the arena where all would easily see.

  She couldn’t pull away from him, he was far too strong. So Raven kicked with all her remaining strength, lashing out just to land a single blow that would have symbolised that she wasn’t beaten yet, she could still fight. But even as she kicked, with heels so high it was all she could do to stay upright and not risk tripping and breaking her neck as he manhandled her backwards.

  Centred in the arena now, the large man yanked down hard on the net. The interlocking threads gouged the delicate flesh of her face in a latticework of agony, forcing Raven to bow, even though she fought against it with everything she had. A second tug was irresistible and Raven could do nothing but fold to her knees before the beast.