by Circe Ridley
Doran stood by the opposite wall of the table and the regaled men, flanked by two guards with their hands at the ready on the hilts of their swords. His expression betrayed nothing, his body rigid and standing in place without the slightest of motions. If it weren’t for the steady rise and fall of his chest, one would think that he was a statue. Mira bit her lip at the sight of the man her body yearned for, fighting back tears. He did not look at her, but she could see the anguish in his eyes, an emotion luckily only noticeable for her.
“Come in, Mira,” Gaius Julius beckoned, taking a sip of his wine. He was a handsome man, but his features were cold and sinister. Mira imagined his touch to be the chill of snow, as his heart must have been as ice to force a man to witness how his young lover is being taken. She stepped towards the men, Quintus Fabius’s gaze roaming over her with mild curiosity and hidden amusement. The man clearly did not mind being present for this spectacle.
She could see him casting glances between the inviting body of the nubile maiden and the stern form of the mighty warrior. Mira could feel his mind go to places she would rather it not. The looks alone were enough to make Mira tense up, feeling as if her privacy, her hidden affection was being torn from her chest by these two Romans. It was worse than simply being bedded.
Gaius Julius stopped her when she had reached the middle of the room and after another long swig from his drink, turned his attention back on the object of his plans.
“Take your clothes off,” he said, his voice neutral and betraying no spite. It was clear on his face, though, the man more engaged than he wished to show. With trembling hands, Mira reached for the clasp on her shoulder and undid it, the flowing silken gown falling gracefully to the ground around her feet. She stood before them, trembling with fear, the fresh, dark body of the servant inviting and enticing the men. Her back was turned to Doran and she knew he would be trying his best not to look at her, but he would probably falter every now and then.
Mira was not tall, but with elegant features. Her skin was gleaming from the fine oils rubbed into it and the curve of her body was the right balance of slim from diligent work in the villa but still with ample curves. Her heart was beating through her chest and she felt like she would run out of breath at any second and simply collapse on the ground, but she doubted that she would be given such respite.
“Very good,” Gaius Julius said, nodding slowly. “Now, come and treat our guest to your mouth.” A small smirk formed at the corners of his thin lips, staring at the girl from over the rim of his glass. She hesitated, looking over her shoulder at Doran. “Do not look at the gladiator, servant. Do as you are told.” A hard edge had entered into his tone, Mira more than familiar with the consequences of ignoring the master when his mood was becoming foul.
With heavy steps, she moved closer to the other lanista and sank to her knees in front of him. He smelled of vanilla. The tall dark-haired man had pleasant green eyes and he seemed to be taking the whole situation as little more than a spirited jaunt, a little teasing on the gladiator’s expense. Quintus Fabius raised his robes high enough to reveal his hard cock, poised and ready for the girl’s warm mouth.
“Go on, little one,” he urged, his voice as soft as his eyes, a stark contrast to the man beside him.
Mira exhaled and leant in obediently. She had little desire to do this, but she knew that testing her master would lead to certain death for at least her, if not for Doran. Despite her objections, she was required to do as she was told, as all slaves were, and hope that both Doran and she herself could forgive her later. Her pink tongue touched the tip of the head of the Roman’s dick, making small swirls on it. She could feel the man relaxing under her touch, urging the girl to continue. Mira’s hands were resting on her lap and she could sense the stony gaze of Gaius Julius staying on her shaking body as she pleasured Quintus Fabius. At least Quintus Fabius was a pleasant man and touching him brought her warmth.
She sucked the head of the cock into her mouth and suckled at it, with her tongue making concentrated circles, a little trick she had learned when she had been with Doran. Her mouth moved progressively lower on the throbbing shaft, taking it into her mouth and finally her throat with obedient care. This Roman was nothing compared to the girth and size of Doran’s member, showing him a desirable time would most likely prove to not be a difficult task. Mira’s body unwound a little bit, though her mind still reeled a bit. She wanted nothing else than to be in the arms of her gladiator, safe and protected, and instead she was to take the cock of a Roman right in front of him. There was no question that it was tearing Doran’s heart apart just as it was hers.
“She is talented, Gaius Julius,” the other lanista said, his words a bit breathier than he probably would have liked. The exotic servant bobbed up and down on his cock, taking it fully into her warm mouth and lapping her tongue over the sides of it. Every now and then she would pull back and run her lips over the sides of it, her eyes closed as to not have to see the atrocities she was committing. She tried to imagine it being Doran’s shaft that she was sucking and licking, but it was no use. This man was no match for the mighty gladiator.
With an appreciative nod, Gaius Julius stood up and emptied his wine with one determined swig. He threw off his robes and stood there for a moment, naked in his Roman glory. His cock was larger than Quintus Fabius’s and it had seen many a reluctant maidens in its day. Gaius Julius glared at the gladiator, who was steadfastly staring at a wall opposite from him. The guards were equally as stony-faced, knowing that it was not their place to take pleasure from the submission of the sweet girl.
“I hope you learn from this, Doran, that your opinions are not above mine. As long as I own you, you will do just as I tell you to, or I will make sure that your life becomes pure fiery hell. I will go easy on your pet this time, but if you test me again, I will fuck her raw, then throw her to your brothers to fill with their cocks and seed, and then slice her until she bleeds to death before your very eyes. Keep that in mind when you feel like questioning me again, Bringer of Sun,” he hissed, his sinewy muscles taught with adrenaline and annoyance. It was not often that the lanista was rivaled by his slaves and in most any other case, the offending party would only be an irritating memory at the back of Gaius Julius’s mind. Unfortunately for him, he was much too reasonable and much too greedy of a man to simply behead the source of his newfound wealth, so other methods had to be employed.
Doran replied with nothing, not a single muscle in his body betraying tension or that he had even heard his master’s words. It did little to soothe the sour mood of the lanista. He grabbed Mira by the arm and dragged her up, her wet lips slipping off of Quintus Fabius. The other man protested with a murmur, but quieted and resigned himself to taking a swig of his wine. The serving slave was dragged over to the bed, the girl struggling to find her feet, and tossed on the luxurious golden covers. Her jewelry dangled and pressed into her skin as she was harshly tossed onto the mattress, the lanista quickly at her heels.
Tears welled in her amber eyes as the man dragged her up on her hands and knees, sideways in front of Doran and the guards. Her smooth skin was pulled at by the pasty, white hands of Gaius Julius as he went to spread her legs, holding her by her hips. She could not suppress a groan, which brought a wide grin to Gaius Julius’s lips as he readied himself to plunge into the enticing heat of her slit. He cast another look at Doran, malice dripping in his tone.
“You did this, Doran,” he said, just as he plunged into Mira.
The girl screamed out, more anguish than pain, and the sound of her voice broke through the room. It was a pained moan, deep heartache evident in it as she was now taken by a man who was not her chosen one. She had never imagined that she would be the kind of girl who hoped to be with just one man, it was a luxury not given to many slaves. Yet, her time with Doran had made her dream and hope for things much better than her status allowed, for peace and quiet affection between two loving individuals. The simple motion of ripping it from her by
the harsh decisions of her master, brought her back to reality in a most excruciating manner. Yet, the pleasure her body felt could not be denied.
“That’s right, slave, scream for your lover,” the lanista growled, plowing into her tightness with animal desire. Just as he had entered the girl, the first bolt of thunder had roared through the sky, letting loose a torrential downpour of cool rain. The heavens quaked with fury, storm clouds tossing and turning, making the night into the blackest one seen in ages. Mira’s stomach knotted at the sound of the thunder and lightning, in her heart knowing full well that the lanista’s actions must not have pleased the Gods. Yet, it seemed to not bother the Roman the slightest bit.
He pounded into the girl, her slim body shaking back and forth with each thrust. Quintus Fabius had also thrown off his robe and now moved closer to the conflicting pair, Mira’s tanned skin a stark contrast against the paleness of the Romans’. Quintus Flavius grabbed Mira’s hair at the nape of her neck and with one hand on his cock, guided it into her mouth. She had closed her eyes tightly again. Her lips were quivering, but she did as demanded from her meticulously, sucking on Quintus Flavius’s veiny member. The girl was even wet for Gaius Julius, despite her heart so clearly belonging to another. Physical delights grabbed hold of her and moved her, her core twisting with warmth though it was all distasteful.
Mira was stuck between the rough Roman aristocrats, her nubile body being carelessly, gruffly taken by the two men. They were there only for their personal amusement and to hurt the great man standing beside the wall, who forced to watch the taking of his one true love. It was heartbreaking, tearing at his soul more than Mira could have ever imagined. His hands had formed into fists and his breath was now more rapid, his calm, collected demeanor disappearing under seething rage with each time the men entered the exotic server girl.
Mira’s mouth was stretched completely open as Quintus Flavius bucked into her, picking up speed as the wet saliva coated his hungry dick. She was struggling to breathe between the thrusts, the man urging her to lap at him with her tongue as well. He wanted her to perform as a whore, willing to do whatever he pleased and wanting all that he had to offer, but she could not find that kind of fire in herself. That passion only burned for her gladiator. Still, she obeyed just as she was asked, and did her best to please the man who wanted so much from her.
Her thighs were already chafed a bit due to Gaius Julius pounding into them without mercy, his hands groping her bare buttocks. He would slap them and rake his nails across her back and ass, making the girl squeal in a mixture of pleasure and pain. The louder she was, the more excited the lanista got. Each time he spanked her, the girl would tense up, followed by a pleased moan from Gaius Julius as her slit milked his cock in place of the passion she was expected to have. Her small, tight frame was a pleasing toy for the Romans and they took great pleasure in using her as she was, in their mind, intended to be used – as a hungry slave ripe for furious fucking.
Quintus Flavius reached under Mira, who was having difficulties remaining on her hands and knees, and pinched her nipple. She winced as his nails dug into her flesh, sending jolts running through her. It was nothing like how Doran took her, with care and compassion, paying heed to her needs as well as to his own. These Romans cared nothing for whether she was blossoming with desire or ripe with pain, as long as her body did what they wanted it to do. Despite all of this, the girl complied, her entire being shaking as she willed herself to not break away from her two dominators. She couldn’t deny the pleasure, though much lesser than what she had come to know with Doran.
She could feel the men reaching a breaking point, their moves more rapid and feverish now and Quintus Flavius’s thighs clenching in effort. The girl, skewered at both ends, had driven them to a frenzy and they were more than ready to fill her with their Roman seed. Gaius Julius was covered in glistening sweat, the room smelling of incense, oils and pure sex and becoming warmer by the minute. He cast a hateful glare at Doran, his teeth gritted as he tried to prolong his release.
“I will fill her with my seed and she will become ripe and pregnant with my child, you scum. You have brought this upon her and I will take great joy in watching you wilt away as she carries my bastard child, forever ruined for your cock, Doran,” Gaius Julius hissed at the gladiator, who was now visibly shaking with anger.
The guard’s had become tense as well, hand wrapped around their swords. Mira was on the verge of passing out, tormented and fucked to within an inch of consciousness. Quintus Flavius had arrived at his breaking point, and Mira’s deep eyes were opened wide in surprise as his thick, salty cum filled her mouth. She yelped in shock as the man held her head, still filling her mouth with his ample load. The girl swallowed it with hesitation, her eyes darting to look at Doran with more pleading in them than she was consciously aware of. She knew he could do little to save her from it all, but a primal part of her still somehow clung on to hope that all would be well, despite the raging storm outside and the ruthless Romans, who were filling her with their load.
A small trickle crept down the corner of her mouth as Quintus Flavius pulled out of her mouth and sunk down to sit on the bed next to her. She was still rocked back and forth with furious moves, the girl biting her lip as Gaius Julius smacked and spanked her as he filled her wet hole. The lanista looked at Doran, seconds from coming, his eyes filled with gloating glee. At that very moment, the stoic warrior could not take it any longer.
CHAPTER FIVE
Strong fists swung to the right of Doran, crashing into the breastplate of the guard on his side. The bubbling rage in him made the gladiator an unstoppable machine as he ripped into the neck of the hapless man, crushing his windpipe with his bare hands. Doran grabbed the man’s sword as he collapsed against the wall and with lightning speed plunged it into the chest of the second guard, who managed the barest cut at Doran’s side before his time with the living came to an end.
The lumbering beast of a wordless man had turned into a vicious predator in the blink of an eye, his anger ripping through any sense or sensibility he may have had. He blindly tore into the exhausted Quintus Flavius, whose soft eyes betrayed a shocked question as his head rolled off of his shoulder and plopped on the ground with a lurching sound. Mira was watching it all happen as if in slow motion, the lanista still hip-deep in her as the men in the room fell like flies under the mighty hand of the Bringer of Sun.
Gaius Julius was next, the man not even having time to back up before the blade split across his chest, sending blood and white semen flying over the back of the stunned servant girl as he fell back and pulled out of her. The haughty man fell back on the covers, the wound pumping blood out in a steady stream. It was doubtful that the cut would kill him, but Doran was not thinking with the clearest of heads at the moment. The gladiator grabbed the bejeweled olive-skinned maiden into his arms, who was not far from losing consciousness.
As he ran through the room, he snatched her silken gown from the floor and wrapped it about her, hiding what she had left of her modesty.
“Doran,” she whispered, at a loss for words as he cradled her to his chest, now racing through the hallways towards the nearest exit. It was a rush against time, to make it out before the bloodied corpses and wounded lanista were found.
“Ssh, Mira,” he shushed her, his warmth enveloping her shaking body. “I will not let another man harm you as long as I live. Now stay quiet, we must find a way out before we are discovered.”
“But where will we go?” she asked, too taken by the situation to heed his words of caution. He gave her a quick look, his muscled legs pounding through the hallways as the rain soiled the ground outside, the thunder hiding the sound his rapid steps.
“It doesn’t matter, Mira. Anywhere that is not here,” he whispered, flinging open a door to one of the slave exits.
A soaked guard stood beside it, sullen and annoyed. He had only enough time to see a heavy hand flying towards his face, before his neck snapped back and he slouched
against the doorframe. The empty planes were open in front of the gladiator and his girl, escaping from hell to a future that held no promise of anything better. Mira buried her head into Doran’s chest as the rain fell on her, fighting sobs. It was not the bright, sunny future she had imagined, but it was a step towards it. Despite the circumstances, she knew she would never say no to anything Doran asked from her.
The large man ran onwards without looking back, cradling his love in his arms and clutching a sword. The horizon was starting to clear, the dark, brooding storm clouds parting in the direction of Doran’s steps. Once again, the Bringer of Sun was blessed by the Gods, though the world of man promised to give him no such fair treatment.
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