by Syra Bond
Arria Sulla swung around and slapped Caristia on the side of the face. Caristia flinched with the stinging pain and, as her cheek reddened she dropped her head and hurried close to her mistress's side.
Sparton saw the entrance of the important visitor, and rushed over to the gladiators gathered around Bec and Theogenes. Caristia looked up enough to see him kicking at them and, more afraid of him than eager to satisfy their lust, they backed away. Theogenes was the last to move, but with a dark scowl that foretold his continuing intentions he stood aside. Caristia gasped at the sight of the mostly naked gladiators and of the especially beautiful Theogenes.
Sparton quickly unbuckled the belt from around Bec's head and she spat out the leather thong plugging her mouth. She gasped loudly, then as the rope around her wrists was untied she fell back sweating and panting, her legs apart and her sex lips glistening with Theogenes's semen. She wiped a hand between her legs and, glaring hard at Theogenes, she licked the wetness from her fingers. Her face was covered in dust, sticking to the saliva that had forced its way past the gag and caked her high-boned cheeks. She smeared the semen over her lips then licked it away and swallowed it slowly. With her mouth open she glared around her like an animal looking for a victim.
Rufo stiffened, and when he saw Caristia he pursed his lips, still smarting from the compromise of having to sell her to Arria Sulla.
'Madam,' he said, wringing his hands and approaching her. 'You grace us with your presence. Have you come to see the entertainment? Perhaps Sparton should not have been so quick to bring it to a close.'
'Perhaps,' she mused. 'Yes, perhaps.'
'I can have them continue if that is your pleasure.' She looked back at Caristia and pursed her lips. Caristia dropped her eyes quickly.
Suddenly Bec sat up as she saw Caristia. Her eyes opened wide and she leapt to her feet and charged forward. Sparton only just managed to prevent her from getting at her prey and, as she kicked out wildly in his grasp, Arria Sulla dropped back in fear.
'Do not worry madam,' said Sparton reassuringly, as he handed Bec over to the strong arms of several gladiators. 'Our fiery tigress is not threatening you. It is your little servant that seems to be inflaming her. Perhaps she is jealous of her skills as a warrior! Perhaps she thinks she would be more successful with the beautiful Theogenes.'
He laughed as Arria Sulla stepped forward again and composed herself.
'My little servant has misbehaved much lately and a bout with your warrior, Theogenes, might serve as a useful lesson to her.'
'You joke of course madam!'
'No sir. I do not joke. Put her in the ring and let us witness her punishment.'
Sparton was unsettled, but aware of Arria Sulla's position and reputation he instructed Theogenes and armed him with a fine metal net.
'If it is punishment you want to see, madam, then Theogenes is more than able to provide it. Bring your servant forward. Let me see her potential as a gladiator!'
He laughed as Caristia was brought to him by the Nubians. She hung her head, unwilling to look towards Bec and frightened by what might happen if she met the eyes of any of the gladiators. The air smelled of sweat and dust and she felt it burning her throat as she gasped with fear. The Nubians released her arms and she stood shaking before Sparton. Suddenly a shudder came over her as if she was caught by a cold draft and her face reddened with embarrassment. Rufo stood near Arria Sulla, trying hard to suppress the sense of injustice that burned inside him every time he looked at Caristia's pale beauty and innocent fragility.
'Will you not look up little slave?' asked Sparton as he held his hand beneath Caristia's chin. 'Surely you are not afraid of Sparton!' She glanced around as he lifted her face and from the corner of her eye she saw Bec having to be restrained by three of the gladiators. Caristia bit her lip anxiously as Sparton turned to Arria Sulla. 'I can see why you are having problems, madam. Your little slave has no voice. But I think I can help her find one.'
He told all the gladiators except Theogenes to back away and form a circle. The three holding Bec struggled to get her to move as she strained her legs out straight and dug her heels into the dusty ground. They tried to gag her but she bit one of them on the wrist and they gave up. In the end they bound her wrists and ankles with rope and dragged her face down to the edge of the small arena.
Spartan lifted Caristia in his arms and carried her into the arena. As he cradled her she felt like an offering, as though being offered as a sacrifice. He put her down in the centre and presented her ceremoniously with a short wooden sword. The gladiators laughed as she looked at it, unsure what to do. Sparton pressed it on her and she grasped it hopelessly.
Theogenes sprang forward, the silver chain at his waist shining in the bright sunlight. Caristia backed away as he approached, his naked flesh glistening with sweat and oil and his muscles flexing with every tiny movement of his athletic body. He twirled the net in a long low circle and its outer edges almost touched her ankles. She skipped back and tripped, falling on her back and dropping the wooden sword. The fall winded her and she gulped for air as her short tunic rode up and exposed the tops of her thighs and the smooth flesh of her freshly-shaved sex. The gladiators laughed at her embarrassment as she pulled the tunic down, then as she took up the sword again and regained her feet they clapped in mock applause.
Theogenes swirled the net again and this time it tangled around her right ankle. She tried to pull free but it was hopeless and her leg was lifted as he pulled her forward like a captured fish. She hopped, still holding the sword, her head filled with the jeering shouts of the surrounding gladiators, her body with the tingling hollowness of fear.
'Still I have not heard her speak, Theogenes. Her mistress is impatient for her words,' shouted Spartan. 'Give her a voice! Let us hear her!'
Theogenes pulled Caristia forward, her leg held up, fighting to keep her balance. She felt his savagery and was filled with fear but she also felt his strength and grew hot with desire. She tried to unravel the net from her foot, but as she bent down and reached forward he threw the net over her and tightened it. It covered her completely and as he drew it up it tightened around her, securing her, stopping her from moving, then as he gave it a sudden heavy tug it brought her down bodily to the dusty ground.
He dragged her around the arena and she rolled over in an uncontrolled bundle inside the ever-tightening net. She choked as the dust filled her mouth and her eyes stung with the dry dirt that was flung up. She felt exposed and humiliated but was powerless to do anything, powerless to escape and powerless to avoid her disgrace. He pulled her to him and lifted her high in the air, laughing at the sight of her, trapped inside the net, a tragic captive, squeezed firmly inside its mesh, unable to move. He carried her over to where Bec was still being held and nodded to her captors. They took the ropes from her wrists and ankles and lifted her to her feet, one of them holding each ankle and another two holding each arm. She writhed against them but even her anger could not bring about the strength to break free.
She spat at Caristia as Theogenes brought her closer. Her hatred for Caristia, borne from a sense of personal injustice, had now grown into an overpowering darkness of malice. Caristia wanted to turn away but she was held fast by the net. Theogenes brought them together, Bec spitting and struggling and Caristia, bound tightly in the net, the focus of Bec's animosity.
'We have still not heard her voice, Theogenes!' shouted Sparton. 'I hope you are not failing me!'
Theogenes fetched some rope and began tying Bec and Caristia together. Caristia felt the heat not only of Bec's struggling body, but of her hatred. It was like being licked by flames. As they were squeezed together her legs were pushed apart and she was made to fully face her adversary. She felt Bec's nipples pressing between the gauze of the mesh and touching her own. She felt their throbbing and their heat, and as the rope was tightened even more she felt the roughness of Bec's pubic hairs pressed against her own tender, freshly-shaved flesh. It made her shiver and, ev
en in this fearful proximity to her enemy, she felt a wave of desire spread through her. Bec spat at her but still the desire was spreading within her.
She felt the mesh of the net being parted at the back and suddenly she could move slightly, just her buttocks. Her tunic was ripped upwards and her bottom exposed, then just as she was easing herself a little she tensed against Theogenes's smacking hand. She gasped as it struck. Bec glared at her, only inches away. Another smack and she tightened again, the pain intense, burning, penetrating, and her whole body lifted away from the source of the suffering. Because she was so constricted inside the net any movement pulled it tighter and any hope of getting away from the spanking was fruitless. Another even harder blow fell and her gasp turned into a grunt, then another, and this time the pain was so intense she cried out.
'At last! She speaks!' shouted Sparton. 'More, Theogenes! More!'
Bec wriggled against her captors and managed to drop slightly so that her face was against one of Caristia's nipples. She took it in her mouth and, just as another smack resounded against Caristia's bottom, bit it hard. Caristia screamed as the two pains came together, the burn from Theogenes's hand and the penetrating fire that ran from her nipples throughout her whole constricted body. She screamed again, and as she heard the shrieking tone of her own pain she felt a growing heat between her thighs. She screamed again and tightened her buttocks just enough to sense the wetness of her increasing excitement against the tightly pressed flesh of her cunt. She breathed in deeply and the expansion of her chest forced her erect nipple towards Bec, who bit harder, and when another smack arrived Caristia screeched in a high-pitched cry.
The net was parted a little further and she felt hands forcing her buttocks apart. The wetness from her cunt met the hot air and a wave of realisation of her predicament, her proximity to her enemy, exposure and the fierce beating sent a shiver through her. She felt her slit swelling, engorging, and as her buttocks were prised wider and she felt the heat of the first cock against her throbbing labia, the excitement within her flowed like water from a bursting dam. She screeched again, but this time not in pain, not in fear, but in an outburst of satisfaction as her first orgasm set fire to her nerves and scorched each part of her inner being.
She rode each cock as it was brought to her, not seeing any of them, only feeling their heat, their raised veins and their culminating bursts of semen. She sucked it up each time one finished inside her, drawing it in with the convulsions of her own orgasm, draining it until it was empty and she was ready for the next. Only then, when there was a slight pause before the next, did Bec's grip on her nipple relax, just for a moment so that she could catch breath and, as the next sank in and she groaned as it filled her, Bec bore down on her nipple again, clamping her teeth around it and biting as hard as she could.
Even after each of the gladiators had taken their turn Caristia moaned for more. She tilted her buttocks back as much as she could within the confines of the net, and inhaled deeply so that her nipple reached as far as possible into Bec's mouth. Sparton ordered Theogenes to release her, and when untangled she rolled onto her back and opened her legs wide. Semen dribbled down the insides of her thighs and the soft pinkness of her sex lips glistened with moisture in the sunlight. Her face was wet with sweat, her blonde hair in tangles and stuck to her face, and her lips swollen and slightly apart as she panted and gasped for air. Arria Sulla marched up to her, kicked her and told her to get up. Caristia stood, still shaking with the remnants of her orgasms. Her left nipple was reddened and stiff and her cheeks flushed when she saw her mistress staring at it.
'You are quite a little gladiator, Caristia,' said Arria Sulla, looking away thoughtfully. 'Perhaps I have mistaken your vocation,' she mused, turning over an idea in her mind.
Chapter 8
The Amphitheatre
The Amphitheatre at Pompeii, now in its one hundred and sixtieth year, lacked the grandeur and sophisticated planning of the gigantic Colosseum in Rome, but was nevertheless host to some of the best gladiators found in the Empire. Its high, open seating lent a bright and airy sense to its architecture and the roars of the crowd rose in waves from its stepped seating as fighters were tested in front of Pompeii's discerning clients. Some would find favour and perhaps be bought for combat in the capital, or perhaps Capua or Puteoli. Some were defeated then tortured and killed before the chanting crowd or perhaps, if only wounded in combat, their lives were offered up to the mercy of the graceless mob who stamped and jeered if the show was not to their liking. The gladiators entered the Amphitheatre by one of the two main external staircases which led to the outside of the upper tiers. From here they descended into the arena, sometimes to a fanfare of trumpets, sometimes heralded by a group of girls carrying banners or throwing flowers, but always to the shrieking adulation of the adoring yet capricious crowd.
Arria Sulla and her attendants entered by a small staircase at the head of the oval arena. Two flimsily clad girls escorted them to their seats. The crowd roared as pretty young girls, all naked except for green garlands in their hair, entered the arena throwing flowers with graceful circling of their slender arms. The petals rose in the hot air and some fluttered onto Caristia's face as she attended her mistress, already settling herself into a garland-decked box near the front.
Innocenti, only brought out by Arria Sulla because her mistress thought she looked pale, was made to stand by her mistress's side with her arms straight and her hands open and flat against the sides of her thighs. She bit her lips childishly as she swallowed in the heat of the sun, but when she looked down at her feet to avoid the glare, Arria Sulla swung around and smacked her hard across her scarcely covered buttocks. Innocenti shuddered and slapped her hands rigidly against her sides, staring straight ahead and barely able to stop her mouth quivering with the tremor of rising tears.
'Still, I said girl! Still!' shouted Arria Sulla.
Tears welled up in Innocenti's eyes. She looked pale and pitiful and Caristia felt a surge of concern as Arria Sulla, still dissatisfied with the girl's posture, swung at her again and smacked her. Innocenti broke into tears and the ill-tempered Arria Sulla grabbed the girl's tunic, lifted it up above her pert bottom and spanked her hard across both cheeks. Innocenti squirmed her hips out of the way, pushing the left one forward slightly as the stinging blow caused her to tense her buttocks tightly together.
'Stop crying girl!' shouted Arria Sulla. 'You test my patience!'
'Having problems with your slavegirls?' asked a familiar voice.
Arria Sulla swung around and glared at Fronto.
'Nothing I cannot cope with,' she retorted curtly.
'So I see,' he said, smirking.
'Stand still girl!' screeched Arria Sulla, and the weeping Innocenti pushed her arms back against her sides and flattened her hands on her hips. Her tunic did not drop down and her reddened buttocks remained exposed to any curious eyes that looked at the humiliated girl.
Fronto stared briefly at Caristia and she dropped her eyes.
'Ah, the entertainment!' announced Fronto, turning around and gazing up at the tiered arena.
Two gladiators appeared at the top of one of the flights of stairs. The first one wore a bronze helmet with a broad flange at the neck pierced with two holes to fasten down the visor. The visor was riveted together and strengthened by a strip of bronze running from the brow to the chin. Hinged to the helmet behind the ears, a broader flange around the base of the helmet itself protected his thick neck and part of his massive, exposed shoulders.
The helmet of the second had a broad flange rising up over the brow then running round to protect the neck. This one's face was completely covered by two half visors formed from a network of bronze rings, attached at the sides and provided with tags which slotted into two bands on the cheek-guards below. The high crest ended in a griffin's head, and on either side of the helmet were sockets holding bright plumes. Over the forehead was a large Medusa head in relief. Neither of the men wore anything else, the
ir muscular frames - shaved, oiled and burnished by slaves trained specifically for the purpose - were completely naked. The one with the plumed helmet had a long, heavy cock hanging down in front of large, weighty balls. The other had his cock tied by the stretched foreskin to a thin string that circled his waist. The tension of the string pulled his scrotum up and squeezed his balls outwards in two broad mounds.
Naked girls ran from behind them, strewing flowers as they danced in procession to the tops of the steps. The crowd turned and saw them and, as the two magnificent men marched down the steps into the arena, the crowd screeched with an outburst of unbridled pleasure and expectation. They jumped to their feet and cheered. Women opened the fronts of their tunics and exposed their breasts. Some lifted their skirts and showed their wet cunts, shouting to their heroes in the hope they would glance their way. Some women already waited near the exit, their hands between their legs and their fingers slipping between their fleshy slits as they imagined being chosen by the victor as he returned from doing battle. These women looked out from the dark tunnel towards the light of the arena, already picturing themselves thrown down by the savage victor and ridden viciously like a suffering animal. They saw themselves on their knees, their heads pulled back by their hair, screaming for it to stop only to have their faces forced into the dusty ground and held there until they were filled with the hot semen of their uncaring champion.
The two gladiators marched behind the girls. A woman threw herself at the one with the plumed helmet, took his cock in her mouth and began to suck it. Another tried to pull her away, eager herself to feel the massive glans on her tongue and its heat in her mouth. The gladiator brushed them both aside as if they were leaves and both of them fell immediately on two men in the crowd, sucking their cocks in a frenzy as the image of the mighty gladiator filled both their minds. Caristia brushed some of the flower petals from her face as the gladiators pounded up behind them. She smelled their muscular bodies and deep inside she felt the same yearning as all the other women that filled the uproarious arena. She stepped out slightly, looking towards Arria Sulla to make sure she was not noticed, and when the plumed gladiator passed she brushed herself against him as if inadvertently. She felt her nipples hardening, and as she felt them pressing against her thin tunic and she saw how close the bound cock of the gladiator was to her she felt the wetness running from the swelling flesh of her hot, aching vagina.
