Africanus shook her head. No one, not even Drucis had mentioned them.
“I think we can narrow you down to either a Retarius or a Secutor,” Fortuna mused. “The former wears no armour except for a face guard, a sort of metal plate worn on the shoulder behind which she ducks for cover, and carries a net and trident. The Secutor carries a shield, sword and wears a helmet. I think the Secutor will suit you, but first we’ll test your speed and ability to guess where the next blow’s coming from. Many a good gladiatrix has been chopped because she failed in that quarter.”
“That’s really comforting,” Africanus mumbled, beginning to realize that the red headed woman was a lot more deadly than she looked or sounded.
“We’ll begin with a warm up session,” and she summoned a slave to fetch over the necessary equipment.
While they waited for it to arrive, Africanus had a good opportunity to assess her new trainer. She was wearing only the customary short skirt which floated around her pert buttocks. Her legs were nicely tanned and shapely; her waist slim and tight, her breasts firm and with large brown areolae. They were also liberally sprinkled with freckles as was her neck and face, which lent her a girlish appearance, useful when deceiving opponents into believing she was a pushover.
“Ah, here we are,” Fortuna said, when the slave arrived. “We shall only be using the very basic weapons to start with, and we shall fight naked, see if that fine rump of yours holds up to a beating.”
The slave placed two small shields on the ground, no more than a foot in diameter, two long stout canes and a length of chain with wrist shackles fixed to either end. The slave fitted a manacle to Fortuna’s right wrist, then the other to Africanus. He handed them the shields which had loops fitted at the back with which to hold them, and then the canes, long and supple with thicker handles.
“But I thought we might at least use a sword,” Africanus protested.
“Oh, you stupid cow,” Fortuna sighed. “If we had real swords, you’d be dead in the twinkling of an eye. All you have to do today is stop me from welting your bare arse, or anywhere else that takes my fancy.”
They stood at the chain’s length, Africanus shadowing Fortuna when she raised her shield at breast height. Their knees and backs bent, and for a full minute they circled each other like cats ready to spring. Without warning Fortuna sprang forward and lashed her cane hard across Africanus buttocks. When her opponent retaliated, she put up her shield and Africanus’ cane bounced harmlessly off the rim and she came back quickly, lashing her cane across the black girl’s thighs. Africanus shrieked and stumbled and in a flash Fortuna put out her foot sending Africanus crashing into the dust.
“That wasn’t fair,” she hissed. “You tripped me up.”
“By all the Gods, do you think that when you get into the arena your opponent is just going to stand there while you beat the living shit out of her,” and she sent her cane whistling into Africanus’ back.
“On your feet,” she snapped, her green eyes glowing with anticipation. “Now when I lash you again, use your shield to stop me.”
She raised her cane, then suddenly as Africanus was distracted, tugged on the chain and pulled her forward. The cane sailed in a beautifully described arc catching her opponent under her legs.
Africanus bellowed in pain, then she lost control and charged at Fortuna like a madwoman, lashing her cane in all directions, but Fortuna effortlessly parried each lash and sent her own cane winging into Africanus’ bare rump. A broad sweep of her shield sent the black girl into a demented spin and a sharp tug of the chain had her hitting the ground at full speed. Just for good measure, Fortuna gave her six rapid lashes across the shoulder blades and one across her belly.
“You’re fucking useless,” Fortuna said drily. “If we had been fully armed, you’d have been dead long ago.”
“If we’d been fully armed, I would’ve killed you,” Africanus retorted rashly.
“Oh, really,” Fortuna replied. “In that case we shall put it to the test. Slave, fetch me two full size shields and helmets. You needn’t bother with either a rudis or a gladius. I think I can make my point with the cane, but you can release these shackles.”
Quintus and Drucus came into the training area, along with lady Octavia and that infuriating little lizard, Nydia. Africanus didn’t know why or how, but she had a strong suspicion that she was somehow responsible for getting her abused by the gladiators.
The shields duly arrived along with a pair of elaborate bronze helmets, wide brimmed and with eye holes protected with a grill. It was a lot heavier than she imagined and when the slave fitted it over her head everything went dark. The eye holes were small and she could only see directly in front of her. With such restricted vision it would be necessary to turn her head to see either side. The shield was elaborately painted with serpents and scrolls and had lots of dents in it where previous combatants had come to grief. It too was much heavier than it looked and when she slipped her left forearm through the loops her arm nearly dropped off.
“Ready!” Fortuna called in a voice sounding both muffled and hollow behind the confines of her helmet.
“This ought to be interesting,” Quintus remarked, seeing both women heavily attired.
“The black gladiatrix thinks she can kill her opponent now that she’s wearing a helmet,” Drucus said dully.
Lady Octavia said nothing but watched with detached interest as both women began again their encircling movement. The combat lasted longer than most of the onlookers imagined it would. Suddenly, Africanus, although unused to having her normal vision blocked, and her arm growing tired from the heavy shield, discovered new found strength and courage. Now that she actually lookedlike a gladiatrix, she felt like one and instead of rushing at Fortuna and burning up all her strength, she wisely kept out of harm’s way, carefully dodging each lash of the cane and bringing her shield into play, deflecting each blow as it came. She even managed to catch her trainer off guard and sent her cane whistling into her pale, pert buttocks. A muffled grunt came from behind the visor, and when she quickly retaliated Africanus put up her shield and swept her cane in a swift downward motion, lashing it over both Fortuna’s breasts. But this time there was no muffled grunt of agony. Through the eye holes of her helmet Africanus couldn’t see the raging fire burning in her trainer’s eyes. Artfully and with consummate experience and skill, Fortuna led her on into a sense of false security, ducking and diving at every blow that her opponent delivered, occasionally letting her get the better of her by deliberately exposing her naked arse and taking a lash or two on her buttocks and thighs. But Africanus was getting too confident. Unexpectedly, Fortuna crashed her shield into that of Africanus, and with such force she sent her reeling. While she tried to regain her balance Fortuna got in with six lashes, each landing with the full strength of her arm. Africanus’ bottom blazed from the pain eating into her buttocks, but her trainer sent another four strokes across her back. The lashes seemed to be descending everywhere at once, and with terrifying speed. Africanus now made the fundamental error of turning her back on her opponent and no matter how she twisted and turned, Fortuna always seemed to be behind her. The pain was unbearable, a blazing furnace of criss crossed welts that drew agonized cries from behind the visor. Her eyes stung with flowing tears and she was temporarily blinded. She knew only that her vision and strength was no match for her trainer and there was little choice but to suffer the cane lashing expertly onto her thighs and breasts.
Hot and sweaty, she bared her blazing bottom to the cane. The onlookers could plainly hear the sharp crack of each lash as it landed on her naked rump and thighs. Africanus gritted her teeth determined to see it out to the bitter end. The lashes came with increased ferocity, landing one on top of another making the welts deeper and the pain greater. Her nipples and breasts throbbed from the fiery heat spreading rapidly through her body. She made one final desperate
attempt to floor her opponent. Her shield crashed against Fortuna’s with a loud, hollow clang and for a second it seemed that Fortuna would hit the ground, but she quickly rallied and sent her cane whistling across the backs of Africanus’ knees. She buckled and fell in a crumpled heap, not even bothering to raise her shield against the measured strokes lashing her swollen bottom.
“She still has much to learn,” Drucus acknowledged censoriously. “But she put up a good fight.”
“She has to be ready within a month,” Quintus grunted, omitting to mention that that was when the money lenders would call in their loans, but he did applaud when Africanus struggled to her feet rubbing her welted bottom.
“That’s enough for today,” Fortuna said, handing her helmet to the slave. “You fought hard and well. I think now you deserve your bath. I shall join you later.”
“Thank you, mistress,” Africanus bowed, and she hobbled towards the baths, wondering how much longer it would be before her master sold her to anyone who needed a slave to wade calf deep in urine, or empty the pots of piss at the nearest brothel.
“You did well,” Fortuna complimented when they were alone together in her room. “I had you heavily armed to show you how much you have to learn, and I whipped you to test your strength and speed. I think that in a month or so you will be ready for your first real combat. You demonstrated great resilience. I was surprised how much of a beating your arse can take.”
“Thank you, mistress,” Africanus replied, relieved to hear that she had done better than she imagined. “Have you always been a gladiatrix?” she asked.
“By the Gods, no. I was a slave like you. Now I fight on my own account. Perhaps one day I shall have my own ludus and train my own fighters. But it costs a lot of money. I was lucky I suppose because my former master liked me and in return for having my body he made sure I was trained well.”
“They’ve had my body here too,” Africanus confessed.
“A slave is expected to do her master’s bidding. I remember how my master used to fuck me every night and whip me into the bargain, but it did no harm, if anything it strengthened me and I of course, I enjoyed it.”
“What happened?” she asked, intrigued that she wasn’t the only one who everybody wanted to fuck.
“He always used to whip me before having sex, and I soon learned that a good whipping made me more eager for his cock. It was always the same. I used to lie belly down on his bed with my arms and legs reaching for the bed posts. He tied my wrists and ankles with rope, pulling the knots tight until I couldn’t move. More often than not I was gagged with a ball of cloth stuffed in my mouth. Then I would offer up my bottom for his pleasure. He didn’t always use a whip, sometimes he used a rope or a cane and he really knew how to lay on the stripes. I used to writhe in agony, squirming like an eel, my arse flogged raw and my thighs red and burning, and you’d never believe it, but I used to have orgasm after orgasm. When I was hot and ready off came the ropes and he’d turn me over and give it to me there and then. His cock was enormous after he’d thrashed my arse and his balls fully loaded. I had to lie on my back with my legs in the air while he pumped his stuff. He used to suck on my tits until I begged for more. If he’d come and I was still hot for it, he’d use a candle on me, pumping it in and out until I came. But it was the lash I loved most of all. It was a single length of leather hide which he kept well greased and supple, and it did hurt. I forget how many strokes he gave me, no more than fifty at one time, but enough to have me gagging for his cock. Sometimes I had to kneel on the bed and have my wrists tied to the post, then he’d thrash my arse and watch my hips dancing. That made him up for it as well and it wasn’t unusual to have his hard cock up my arse. The more I was whipped and fucked the better I could fight, so I suppose my success is down to my old master.”
“I’ve been told not to have any more sex with anybody unless it’s with my master’s permission,” Africanus said sadly. “But that’s the trouble, you see, the more I’m whipped the more I want fucking. I just can’t help it.”
“None of us can,” Fortuna agreed. “It’s in our blood. Every woman wants fucking after she’s had a taste of the whip.”
“I’ve gone without it for weeks and thought I’d got over it, but after that combat I knew I wanted it as soon as my arse started throbbing.”
“I’m sure my slave could oblige you. She must know of someone who could be relied upon to keep his mouth shut.”
“Lacinius,” she said. “He was the only one who showed any mercy after the rest of them had wanked all over me.”
“Would you like him to fuck you now?”
Africanus let out a long sigh. To give way would be a sign of weakness, but her cunt ached for a man, even if the memory of Arius still pained. And what about her oath of obedience? Could she betray that solemn promise of celibacy? Inwardly she was struggling against her own physical emotions. A battle she knew she was losing.
“Can you also trust your slave to keep silent?” she asked, already wet at the thought of having Lacinius between her thighs.
“Leave everything to me,” Fortuna said, and left the room to summon her young slave.
The girl bowed as befitted her lowly status and ran off to do her new mistress’ bidding. It was some time before she returned with Lacinius.
Fortuna opened the door when he knocked softly on it and let him in.
The young slave hovered in the darkness.
“You have done well,” Fortuna said and gave her some coins. “What do they call you?”
“Nydia, mistress. Thank you,” the slave said, smiling broadly.
Lacinius saw both women had been waiting for him, stripped naked in the humid night air.
“But I thought…”
“Never mind what you thought,” Fortuna cut in. “We’re both willing to have sex with you. It’s all part of the gladiatorial code. Everybody gets an equal share of the spoils.”
Lacinius saw the joke and laughed. “That’s fair,” he smiled. “So who’s first?”
“You have to take both of us at the same time,” Africanus said. “If you can manage it.”
Lacinius had the distinct impression that both women were mocking him and his eyes flashed in anger. He might be merciful, but he certainly had no time for precocious women getting above themselves.
“You get on your hands and knees,” he said to Fortuna. “And you, lie on her back, belly up,” he ordered Africanus.
The women obeyed, Fortuna got on her hands and knees, whilst Africanus laid herself on her back, throwing open her long silky legs. Lacinius knelt behind Fortuna and entered her at once, dipping his cock in and out of her cunt and at the same time embracing Africanus’ thighs.
“You’ve done this before, you artful swine,” Fortuna grunted, as his cock eased deeper into her sex.
“How else can a man take two women simultaneously?” he asked, folding his arms tighter around the dark sweating thighs.
He waited until he heard Fortuna start to pant, then took away his cock and plunged straight into Africanus.
“Urgh,” she grunted, not having had a hard cock for some time.
Soon the air was heavy with their grunting and panting, the harsh groans of Africanus mingling with the higher pitched rasps of Fortuna. Lacinius found it easy to penetrate them in turn now that his cock was slicked from both their juices.
“I’m so wet,” Africanus breathed, writhing her shoulders over Fortuna’s back.
Lacinius could see that right enough. The black girl’s cunt was wet and dripping, the juices flowing from under his cock and over Fortuna’s arse.
“I can feel her juice running into my cunt,” Fortuna said crudely, wiggling her buttocks.
But both women were fully aroused, not only from the attentions of Lacinius’ cock but from the sensual writhing and squirming of th
eir own bodies. Under Fortuna’s body, her breasts swayed to and fro as she rocked in time from Africanus’ bouncing buttocks. A heady aroma of hot feminine sex filled the room and drifted into the still night air. But in the shadows Nydia sat listening to every sound, her own pert nipples erect at the thought of what was taking place inside that steaming room. Her slim girlish body shivered in the night air, but her skin was hot with longing. She too was prohibited from coupling with any of the male slaves, but that didn’t stop her from craving a hard cock inside her. She crept to the window and peered over the ledge. Lacinius’ manly buttocks were thumping between Africanus’ shimmering thighs, then, just as she started to pant, he slipped out of her and penetrated Fortuna. Nydia’s own breasts, small and pert by the standards of every other female slave who worked there, tingled and ached. Her nipples stood up like young strawberries. If there was one thing she could boast about it was her nipples. Now, as she heard the two women inside the room rising to their orgasms she was consumed with frustration and jealous rage. She waited patiently until the noise abated and crept back to the courtyard entrance which Lacinius had to pass on his way back to the gladiators’ quarters. On her way she was sure she heard someone’s bottom being slapped and the giggling that followed.
A door furtively opened and was as quietly closed. The laughter inside the room ceased and soon came the sounds of contented snoring and murmurings.
“I can find my own way back,” Lacinius rasped, shocked at finding the young slave lurking in the shadows.
She sidled up to his powerful frame. In the dark he seemed massive and towered over her like a statue of Mars. Her slim hand went under his tunic and groped clumsily for his cock which was still hard.
“I want your cock,” she whispered, stroking the shaft, working her hand up and down, her heart throbbing at the prospect of riding him.
“I don’t mess with little girls,” he said condescendingly. “So why don’t you run off and play with yourself.”
The Arena of Torment Page 11