Conquest of the Gladiator
By Virginia Wade
Copyright © 2012 Virginia Wade
All Rights Reserved.
Published by I Love Stacy
Kindle Edition
Virginia Wade
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Email:
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Cover Art by Adelaide Cooper
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this book is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.
Chapter One
I had been sent to town on behalf of my Domina, the mistress of the house of Getha, to obtain hair from the shaved heads of farm workers. Mistress Octavia Getha loathed her thin, patchy tresses, and I, being skilled at wig making, had been dispatched for this service. My mother had been a slave in the house of Macer, but our master had died and he had no sons, so we were sold. She had been taken to Campagnano, and I was now the property of Gallus Titus Getha, a senator from Rome. I doubted I would ever see my mother again.
The marketplace teemed with vendors hocking everything from wine, silk, olive oil, and cattle. The forum was a magnet for the rich and poor alike, the slaves dressed in their coarse, dark garb, while the senators wore togas with purple stripes. I was a house slave, and, therefore, my attire was something my mistress had chosen for me: a tunic and belt. The shawl around my shoulders was made of wool, which was a luxury I could not afford.
I hurried through the narrow, crowded streets, stepping aside to avoid a sedan held by slaves that carried a patrician woman. She eyed her surroundings with haughty distain, as the conveyance jostled her gently. The city reeked of fecal matter left behind by horses and mules. I carefully stepped over cesspools of urine, human and otherwise. The shouts of an orator rang above the din, the speaker complaining bitterly about the senate. The Emperor Domitian was popular among the people, because his building programs had put them to work, but the senate denounced him, labeling him a tyrant for his totalitarian views. What they really hated was that he had stripped them of their powers, thereby curtailing corruption. I cared little for politics and the like, since my life would remain unaffected no matter who was in power. I would always be a slave. My only goal was to please my mistress and remain forever in her good graces. With this in mind, I ducked down an alleyway that led to a little shop. I had been sent to the market for an important purpose, and I was always adept at my duties, without fail.
The house of Getha prepared for a feast tonight to celebrate the procurement of the Dominus’s latest gladiator, Marcus Ahala. He had been bought at great cost from a ludus, a gladiator school of high standing. My master was hopeful that with proper training, his newest acquisition would elevate his status among the nobles. The rumor was that he was trying to finagle a better position within the senate, which was a surprise to no one.
Crude wooden tables lined the interior of the shop, filled with baskets that brimmed with various types of hair. A mangy dog lay on a tuft of straw in the corner, his leg twitching while he dreamed. My mistress was a graying brunette, and finding the right color would be a challenge.
“Ah, the house of Getha calls again,” said the shopkeeper, who looked slightly rumpled, as if he had just woken from a nap. “What errand brings you here?”
“I need light-colored hair for a wig.”
“I’ve seen your work. It’s well-crafted.” He strode to the back of the room, where a curtain hung, separating his living quarters. “I received a shipment this morning of fine, Etruscan slave hair. This was taken from a young girl.” He held up a bundle of dark blonde hair. The strands shone with the sheen of youth.
Excitement raced through me. “I thought this would be harder.” The hair was perfect.
“It’s pricy. I’ve cheaper, if your mistress doesn’t want to spend the coin.”
“How much?”
“Fifty denarii.”
“So much?”
“It’s the finest slave hair you’ll find.”
“My purse is light today. I can spare only thirty.”
“Come now. See how it shines.” He held up the locks, catching a ray of light that broke through the gap in the wall. “Look at the golden and copper hues. There’s depth to this hair. It’s one of a kind.”
“Perhaps, I have a little more than thirty. I can offer thirty-five.”
“You strike a hard bargain, my dear, but I can’t part with it for any less than forty-five denarii.”
“Would you accept forty-one?”
A light glimmered in his eye. “You have a bargain.”
I reached for a small leather pouch and gave him a silver and gold coin. “Here.”
He took the money and wrapped the hair in cloth, tying the bundle with rope. “How is the senator?”
I had only been at the house of Getha for a short time, and the Dominus had been away on business. “He’s only just returned, sir. He seems healthy and in good spirits.”
“Bless him and his family.” He held out the item. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”
I took the bundle. “Thank you for your kind words. I shall tell Mistress Getha you said so.” If the Domina was going to wear the wig tonight, I had to rush home and begin the project as soon as possible. It would take hours. “Good day.”
“Good day.”
I stepped from the shop into an alleyway. The walls of buildings on either side reached several stories high. I was always mindful of kitchen refuse being thrown from windows, and I glanced up to make sure I wouldn’t be doused with anything. Two soldiers dressed in red tunics peered into the passageway. Interest flared in their eyes upon seeing me, which sent a prick of fear down my spine. They were off-duty, because they weren’t wearing their helms, although they still carried formidable looking daggers sheathed in their belts. A secretive smile passed between them, and they entered, the width of their bodies blocked the narrow corridor completely. I was trapped.
“What do we have here?” uttered a deep voice.
Fear and instinct took over, as I turned and hurried in the other direction. I hadn’t been living in Esquiline long, and I was unacquainted with its streets. I prayed this direction yielded an avenue to freedom. The hair stood up on the back of my neck, and a cold sweat broke out on my forehead. By some miracle, I had managed to keep my virtue this long, but I knew it wouldn’t last forever. A small inner courtyard revealed no exit, although there were several doors. I tried the first, but it was locked. Then I went to the next and the next, pounding my fists against the wood, while my heart thumped wildly in my chest.
“You’ve nothing to fear from us, little one,” the taller of the two soldiers said. He leered at me in such a way that my skin began to crawl. “This won’t take long.”
I slammed my fists into the last door, praying someone would open it. “Stay away!”
“Now, is that any way to treat a soldier of Rome?”
I backed away, finding a stone wall. “I care not for your occupation, sir.”
“But we’re heroes, little slave,” said the shorter man. “We’ve just returned from Britain, fighting for the great and mighty Agricola.”
“How wonderful.” I failed to
understand why our countrymen had to journey so far for fortune and conquest.
He smiled, but his eyes remained dull. “Where’s our heroes’ welcome? Where is my prize?”
He lifted his tunic exposing his subligar, which he brushed aside to free his cock. I’d never seen one before, and the sight was shocking. The organ was lengthy and riddled with veins, while the head looked like the rounded end of a small apple. Horrified, I screamed at the top of my lungs, hoping that someone would come to my aid.
A hand went over my mouth, while putrid breath lingered near my face. “There now, little slut,” he rasped. “You’ll wake the dead.” I kicked him, striking his groin with the heel of my sandal. “Ach! You stupid bitch!”
Dirty fingers dug through my hair, releasing the tightly wound bun, the dark tresses falling around my shoulders. He grasped the strands firmly, nearly tearing the hair from my scalp. The other man searched beneath my tunic, touching my skin, forcing bile to rise from the depths of my stomach. I had been attacked before while running errands and had escaped, but I sensed this would be different. There was no one to help me. Knowing this, I redoubled my efforts, kicking, scratching, and biting into the hand that kept me from screaming.
“Shit! This one’s a little hellion, Junius.”
“I’ll grab her legs.”
They both reeked of stale wine and unwashed bodies. “No! Let me go, you gutless swine!”
The sound of my tunic shredding should have alarmed me, but I was too busy fighting off a hand that was determined to invade my crotch. Material was suddenly over my mouth and tied behind my head in an unforgiving knot, which tangled with my hair painfully. Discarded barrels and cartons of wood littered the secluded courtyard, and they dragged me to a barrel, forcing me on it stomach first. Hands grasped at my underthings, pulling away the subligar and exposing my flesh to their debauched eyes. I grimaced, knowing that my time was at hand. I offered up a prayer to Jupiter, wishing that he would strike down my attackers with a thunderbolt.
Save me, please, I beg you!
In answer, my hands were tied behind my back with my own belt. I shuddered, bracing for the inevitable, just as a door flung open, and a man appeared, savagely huge, with bulging thigh and arm muscles the likes of which I had never seen.
Jupiter has sent me a gladiator! Praise the Gods!
But then my heart sank. What if he partook in the festivities instead of freeing me? What if instead of two seducers, I now had three.
“She’s not all that willing, is she?” the stranger said. “It’s hardly a fair fight when your quarry is bound and gagged. And she’s half your size.”
The taller soldier drew his dagger. “This doesn’t concern you, slave.”
I stared at the gladiator, never having seen one this close before. He wore a loincloth and sandals and nothing else. His short hair shone the color of black onyx with bluish highlights. If I thought his form was impressive, it was nothing compared to his face. Even crisscrossed in scars, it was extraordinarily handsome with an aquiline nose, high cheekbones, and a defined jawline.
“So, is this the glory of your legion? Raping a woman in an alleyway?”
“Off with you, you slave scum,” spat the soldier named Junius. “This doesn’t concern you.”
The gladiator’s attention rested on me; his expression remained neutral, but a slight tick registered in his cheek, beneath a light purple scar. The soldier brandished his dagger, releasing me. I stumbled to my feet, struggling to undo the binds that held my hands together. The ties were done poorly, and I was free within a minute, shoving aside the cloth from my mouth.
“Those daggers are for little boys,” drawled the gladiator, confidence and authority oozing from his pores. “Real men fight with their hands.” The shorter soldier slashed at him, but the gladiator knocked the knife aside with a flick of his wrist. A noisy clang registered when it encountered the stone floor. “Is that the best you can do?” His smile was cocksure and challenging.
“You’ll be reported to our commander. Enjoy your last days of freedom, slave.”
“For a protector of the realm, your abuse of women is shameful. I’ll gladly die with honor, while you face disgrace. And how is it that you think I’m a slave? Perhaps, I volunteered. Have you thought of that?”
Junius’s complexion tinged red. “It matters not. There will be no witnesses.”
That statement froze my blood. I would have raced down the alleyway, but the gladiator blocked the path. “It’s settled then,” he said. “Death without honor.”
“You think I fear you?” The soldier waved the dagger, standing with his feet apart. “Let’s battle, slave pig. I’m ready.”
I pressed myself to the wall, my heart thundering beneath my tunic. There was nothing I could do but pray the gladiator was victorious. He would be punished for his actions, but I was grateful he had saved me from an unpleasant defilement.
To my surprise, the gladiator grinned, flashing a mouthful of ivory teeth. “Well then. Let the fun begin, legion swine. Show me how a coward fights. I’m dying of curiosity.”
Chapter Two
Junius lunged, slicing at the chest of the muscled gladiator and missing. His friend attacked, having picked up his weapon, but the dagger was once again air-bound, being knocked out of his hand. It landed behind several broken crates, frightening a cat that screeched in response, darting out of the courtyard.
“This is the best you can do?” taunted the gladiator. “You should be flogged for your incompetence.” He danced lithely around Junius. For a man his size, he was surprisingly light on his feet. As Junius moved towards him, he grabbed his arm, trapping it behind his back. As the shorter man approached, the gladiator spun his victim around, snapping the arm loudly.
“Shit!” The wounded soldier dropped the dagger. “You’ll pay for this! You’ll be apprehended and punished. You forfeit your life,” he glared at me, “for a whore!”
“Come, come nearer.” The gladiator gestured with two fingers. “What’s the matter? Are we finished already? Are you so weak that you cannot fight me?” The soldier eyed the knife on the ground, clearly wishing he held it. “Be a man. Fight with your hands.”
He spat. “You aren’t worth my effort!”
“Then you have no honor at all.”
The soldiers nodded to one another, silently agreeing on a course of action. A second later, they plowed into the gladiator, connecting with the superfluous expanse of his chest, which was knotted with muscle. It was like hitting a wall. With a movement that was almost too fast to observe, the gladiator fisted his hands, bringing them down upon the necks of his adversaries. This knocked the wind out of them, the men collapsing at his feet.
Junius snarled, “You shall pay for this!”
“Bring your complaints to my new master. I care not for your threats.”
He helped his comrade to his feet. “I hope that whore was worth your life, swordsman. Enjoy her while you can. You’ll be punished in the arena. You’ll be condemned to the beasts.”
The shorter man snorted. “Damnati ad bestias.”
“Bring me your tigers. I fear them not.”
The soldiers retrieved their weapons, adjusting their tunics and hastening from the courtyard. I held the package that I had purchased to my chest and moved to follow them, but I was captured by a steely grip.
“Not so fast.”
“Let me go!”
“I saved your virtue, and this is how you repay me?” His voice held a hint of humor. “I’m going to die in the arena. The least you could do is thank me with a kiss.”
“No!” He lifted me into the air, my feet dangling above the ground. We were only inches apart, which was alarming.
He scrutinized me carefully. “So this is the face that inspired such lust.”
I stared into blue eyes, which were surrounded by the thickest set of lashes I had ever seen. His hands were clasped around my arms, the heat of his skin nearly singeing me. His chest rose and fell wit
h his breathing, pushing out a swell of muscles that had developed from the countless hours spent in a practice arena.
“You are pretty, but hardly remarkable.” Amusement glimmered in his eyes.
“Put me down!” I struggled, kicking, trying for his groin. This prompted him to hold me closer, which was a worry. “I-I thank you for your help…but…let me go!”
“I’m going to die for my efforts, and that’s the best you can do?”
“You should go. Save yourself.”
“But you haven’t thanked me properly.”
“They’ll come back with more men. You’re wasting precious time.”
“I’m terrified.”
No amount of squirming lessened his grip. “You find this amusing?”
“Life is short. I might as well laugh.”
“There’s nothing funny about death.”
His look sobered. “No.”
“I’ll be punished by my mistress for my lateness. Put me down!”
“What’s your name?”
“It hardly matters. You’ll never see me again.”
“Then why not tell me your name?”
“You’ve an accent. Where are you from?” Why did you ask that?
“I’m Syrian by birth. But you haven’t answered my question. What’s your name?”
“Floriana.”
“That’s pretty. Now for that kiss.”
“No!” His face neared, and I jerked away, renewing the struggle, kicking and squirming. He grazed my neck; his skin was abrasive from several days worth of stubble.
“It’s a shame you’re so difficult. I would’ve let you go already, if only you’d kissed me.” The tenor of his voice was deep and melodic.
“Are all gladiators this stupid?”
“You mean lusty. It’s in our nature.” He grinned wickedly.
I struggled not to smile. “Fine. Do it quickly, if you must.”
“Something this pleasurable should be savored.” His look suddenly smoldered.
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