The Arena of Torment

by Geoffrey Allen

  “Where did you get this?” she enquired, putting it between her teeth.

  “I found it in the street, mistress.”

  Fortuna bit the coin in half. “You should’ve saved yourself the trouble. It’s a dud and not worth the lead it’s made from.”

  She tossed the worthless coin in the sand and told Nydia to fetch her oils and come to her room at once. Lady Octavia had got home safely and had let herself in through a side door and was sleeping soundly as if she had never left her bed.

  It was an hour later after Nydia had finished oiling Fortuna and the two gladiatrices were now locked in combat that she found her master, Quintus watching them battling in the training ground. With only two weeks to go before her first contest in the mighty Colosseum, he wanted to be absolutely sure that Africanus was up to the mark. He had a lot on his mind, what with Glaucus preparing the sponsorship with all the risk that entailed. He had offered to sponsor Africanus independently as a contract gladiatrix and had even hinted he might buy her if she was victorious in the Colosseum. It was a deal well worth considering. Africanus wouldn’t come cheap, but the profit would clear his debts. Of course, he had no idea that both Glaucus and his own wife, Octavia had been planning it all along, waiting until Africanus had been trained and armoured at his own expense, watching him get deeper and deeper into debt, then Glaucus would offer to buy both the ludus and her at only half their worth before the creditors came battering at the door and took it all as payment. The only thing that Glaucus didn’t know was that Octavia had made other plans and was one step ahead in the great game of treachery.

  “Please, master I have some important news,” Nydia simpered, bowing her head.

  Quintus ignored her. His attention was caught by Fortuna, naked except for a shoulder guard, and armed with a deadly trident and net with which to ensnare Africanus looking resplendent in her wide brimmed helmet, short leather skirt that did little to hide her gorgeous bottom, andwielding a gladius, the short sword now swinging expertly in her hand. She was using her shield well and was parrying every blow of the trident. Her bare breasts were wobbling and swaying beautifully and the nipples were suitably erect. Both women looked splendid thrusting out their inviting buttocks and moving like predatory cats on their long shapely legs.

  “What news?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the combatants.

  “About the lady Octavia,” she said slyly. “I know where she goes at night.”

  “At night?” he said, becoming interested.

  Fortuna advanced quickly, keeping the trident aimed at Africanus’ throat and swinging the net in an arc. Africanus was keeping out of range, deftly leaping over the net and catching the trident with her sword. She moved in and the sword bounced off the shoulder guard. Fortuna ducked behind it protecting her face and stepping backwards, tripped and fell. Africanus was there in a flash, falling on top of her, aiming the tip of the blade at her throat. But Fortuna was ready with her trident and knocked the sword from her hand. Africanus rolled off her and snatched it up, ready to begin again.

  Nydia waited patiently until the master turned to face her.

  “I followed her, master, all the way to the docks.”

  “The docks!” he said, now staring hard at her. “What on earth was she doing there?”

  “I don’t know, master, I only saw her go in one of the brothels and she was talking to a man.”

  “If you’re making this up, I’ll have you flogged.”

  “It’s true, master. The brothel was called, ‘The House of Olives.’ And there is something else, master,” she said quickly, her tone bordering on panic. “I saw that black gladiatrix and my new mistress fucking with Lacinius. She sent me into the gladiators’ quarters to fetch him and they were fucking all night,”

  “He had both of them?” he asked, astonished.

  “They were at it like goats,” she smiled.

  But Quintus wasn’t smiling. It seemed that there was a lot going on behind his back that he didn’t know about.

  The combat was drawing to a close and Africanus had acquitted herself admirably. In two weeks she would be more than ready for the Colosseum. It was generous of his good friend, Glaucus offering to field her as a contract gladiatrix and take on all the financial risks. He looked at Nydia convinced that she was telling the truth.

  “Soon, you shall have your freedom. In the meantime I want you to keep a close eye on your mistress, and if she goes there again you are to follow her and report everything she says and does.”

  Nydia bowed low and scurried off, wondering how she was going to get in and out of the brothel without being fucked by half of its horrible inmates.

  Chapter Eleven

  Octavia was getting more and more agitated, losing her temper and beating her slaves for the slightest little thing. It was getting closer to the time when the gladiatrix would make her first appearance in the Colosseum. Glaucus had everything in place and had paid to stage her first combat, but Quintus had inconsiderately remained fast in the ludus, watching Africanus improving with every bout. She had no objection to battling in the nude and seemed to enjoy displaying her magnificent naked body. Fortuna seemed equally pleased to show off her finely honed limbs. Quintus didn’t consider himself to be much of an expert on women but he was sure that they were lovers. Well, that was no business of his as long as they continued to battle each other and Fortuna was really earning her fee, which reminded him that he had to travel to Cantiacorum, a small town some few miles inland from Marcellum to formalise his latest loan, which he hoped would be the last before Africanus had been fully trained and armoured. The road between the two towns was a lonely one, winding over mountains and through deeply wooded valleys; the ideal place to stage an ambush, if one were a highway robber, or bent on kidnapping attractive young women from isolated farms and selling them in Rome. When he told Octavia of his intended journey, she knew she had to move fast. Plutarc would need time to put his plans into operation, kidnapping her husband and doing whatever it was he did with his victims. She was past caring now the great day at the Colosseum was approaching, and she set off for the House of Olives that very night closely shadowed by Nydia. This time her slave had no intentions of being sexually abused, stripped and left wandering home dressed in a vermin ridden sack, not to mention being fobbed off with a false coin. That really stuck in her gullet. If her mistress could pose as a prostitute and get away with it, well so could she, posing as a brothel servant. All right, she might have to put up with some mild banter and perhaps some groping and fondling, that was to be expected, but it was nothing compared to gaining her freedom. She set off in a plain brown dress, looking like a down at heel servant and her plan was a simple one. Keep out of sight until her mistress went upstairs with the man and eavesdrop on whatever was taking place between them, then bolt back to the ludus and report to her master.

  The place was in uproar when her mistress arrived. The Roman battle fleet had docked and sailors crowded the rooms, drinking and brawling and grabbing the nearest whore they could lay their hands on. Her mistress had met the man and they had gone up the rickety staircase and into one of the rooms above. Nydia mingled with the crowd, giving her mistress time to settle, but never reached the first step. The sailor’s arm was as thick as her thigh and his body like a tree trunk when it barred her way.

  “How much for your cunt?” he said crudely, reaching out to fondle her breasts.

  “I’m not a whore,” she smiled sweetly. “I’m just a servant, so please let me pass.”

  If she’d told him to fuck off and get out of her way she might have got away with it. Flashing him a sweet smile was the worst thing she could have done. It was the sweetest smile he’d seen in a long while, and she had that little girl look about her that some whores not yet fucked completely rotten still maintained. He guessed she was pretty new to the game, her cunt not yet totally ravaged.


  “I’ll give you four sestertii,” he offered, which was one more than the going rate, and grabbed her slim waist, steering her to the stairs.

  In his strong grip she was like a lamb being led to the slaughter. Up she went, two steps at a time, tumbling, tripping and crashing through the nearest open door. It was a rule of the brothel that if a door was left open the room was free to use and the customer paid the old harridan sitting on her stool for the use of it. He threw a copper coin and she instinctively bit on it and satisfied it was genuine, motioned them into the room and closed the door.

  “Phew!” Nydia breathed, “What’s that smell?”

  The previous occupants had only left the room moments before and it stank to high heaven of cheap perfume and stale sex sweat. The battered mattress sagged in the middle and the sheets were stained and ripped. The sailor shrugged. He’d been in worse places and any room was good enough for a fuck if it had a bed in it, particularly with the delicious morsel he was fortunate to share it with.

  “Get your rags off,” he said, wrestling his salt caked tunic to the floor.

  “I want the money first,” she said quickly, remembering the advice she’d been given from the last lot of tramps who’d fucked her.

  He counted out four sestertii and slapped them in her hand, and like a professional whore, she bit on each one and then slipped off her clothes.

  “You’ve got a big thing,” she said genuinely alarmed, looking at his huge erection, wondering if she should ask for another two sestertii.

  He guffawed, pleased with the reaction, and warming more and more to what he assumed was her innocent little girl act.

  “Hold it in your hand,” he said, taking her wrist and closing her slim fingers around the shaft.

  “It’s throbbing,” she whispered, feeling the veins pulsating in her palm.

  He chuckled and put his hairy arm around her tiny waist. His hand went to her buttocks and he smiled a mouth full of yellowing teeth. Her buttocks were small and compact and his hand easily gripped the whole cheek, which made a change, most of the dockside whores had backsides as big as a bullock. Her cunt hair was silky soft and a mass of tight curls, as soft as the texture of the hair on her head. He squeezed her bottom and her body jolted from the shock. Her hand started to move slowly up and down the shaft. She thought that if she just stroked him gently, imitating the feel of her cunt, and he kept fondling her pretty little bum, he might come quickly and she could get on with the more important business of spying on her mistress, wherever she had gone.

  In the dim light he closely resembled a satyr, with his goatee beard and very hairy chest and legs. A pair of hooves would not have looked out of place. But he still hadn’t come, and reached for her shoulders forcing her knees to the floor.

  “I’d like you to wash it first, please,” she said, guessing what was coming next.

  The water jug was empty, but there was a half bottle of wine on the cabinet. He snatched it by the neck and tipped the whole contents over his erect prick, spilling a good deal of it over her chest and nipples.

  “Now suck on that!” he said, laughing at the look of distaste creasing her lips.

  She slipped her mouth over the head and lapped at the wine droplets gathered at its base. She sucked slowly at first, hoping he would come quickly, and as soon as she felt his balls tremble she’d let go and let him spatter his filthy intentions all over the equally disgusting mattress. But he put his hands on her slender shoulders, manipulating them under his fingers and thumbs, kneading them like dough. He liked the feel of her bones and tight skin. That made a change too, not a bit of fat on her anywhere. He could just see her aroused nipples and nearly choked at the sight of them. They weren’t like most girls’ nipples, the buds rising from the usual pimpled discs, but the whole areola rose from her breast in a dark succulent bump, and the teat seemed to twitch, just begging for his lips.

  “I want you sitting on my cock,” he told her, taking her head away and lifting her in his strong arms.

  He carried her to mattress and they both fell in a heap, rolling over and lying in the middle where the bed groaned and the mattress sagged. She was lying on top of him, feeling his cock neatly compressed against her cunt. His hands were swiftly on her buttocks, squeezing and rolling the cheeks.

  “How old are you?” he asked, biting her earlobe.

  She winced and told him she was twenty.

  “You’re lyin’” he said abruptly, and shot her a searching grin. “I think you’re no more than fourteen. Look at you, thin as a bull rush.”

  What a cheek, she thought, calling her a fourteen year old, when she was seventeen, well, nearly eighteen. But she thought it unwise to argue. There was no telling what he might do with her alone in this stinking room.

  “Yes, I’m fourteen,” she smiled, and wriggled her bum over his cock. It seemed to be larger and throbbing a lot more urgently.

  “And this is your first time with a man, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it’s my first time with a man,” she agreed.

  The Gods knew that wasn’t true either!

  He lifted her hips effortlessly over his middle. She was up on her knees with his cock nudging into her sex. Both of them knew it was all a game but harmless and she went along with it, thinking that as soon as this frustrated old man was inside her he’d come in no time.

  “Are you going to fuck me hard?” she purred, rolling her eyes in mock terror.

  “No, I’m going to fuck you slow and gentle,” he assured, moving her hips into position.

  Her hand went under her legs and held his erection. Then she did roll her eyes. No need to put on an act now. He was huge and as hard as a rock.

  “Please go in slowly,” she said, her lips quivering at the thought of that thing inside her.

  “It’s all right, little one,” he consoled. “This is your first time and I promise not to hurt you.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, keeping up the charade, and smiling now.

  She lowered herself slowly and gently over his thing, pausing to catch her breath as its girth forced open her sex lips. Her nipples enlarged like raspberries, and just as inviting, as he sucked on them, not gently but almost biting them clean from her breasts.

  Then he lost control and slammed her arse hard on the root of his cock.

  “There, there,” he said tenderly, looking at the shock in her wide and watering eyes. “Did that hurt my darling little girl?”

  “Yes, it fucking well did,” she blurted, and the spell was broken in an instant.

  “That’s your hard shit,” he growled. “Now ride me, you little whore, or I’ll you’ll have my belt on your bare arse.”

  She put her hands on his chest and rocked her arse so fast the bed board beat the wall like a drum. Someone in the room next door laughed and thumped the wall in return. He thought that was funny and returned it with a crash of his fist on the partition. A layer of fine dust descended from the ceiling, settling on her hair and shoulders and stuck to the sweat.

  It was all good natured fucking from then on, and Nydia wiped the sweat from her brow thinking it wasn’t quite so bad after all, fucking and riding a complete stranger with a massive cock punishing her arse. And she was being paid for it. Four sestertii was no mean sum to a slave paid absolutely nothing. She made a quick calculation. If she could manage at least ten, or maybe fifteen men a day, perhaps even twenty when she got really used to it, she could make a small fortune. No wonder there were so many whores fucking like crazy. She leaned right over so he could feel her bum. She was beginning to like his hands on her cheeks, showed what a nice arse she had if her client liked fondling it. After all, he was her client, and there she was fucking her arse off in a back alley brothel, and the thrill of it made her go wet.

  His hands were on her hips and bouncing her up and down s
o fast her head swam.

  “I love your cock!” she shrieked, and someone in the next room laughed again.

  Now she was really entering into the spirit of it all, bouncing her bottom and shaking her breasts as his teeth nibbled on her teats. Neither of them saw or heard the door creak open and a young sailor creep stealthily into the room. He had finished with his whore but was still erect and wanted another piece of fucking flesh to play with. Without being invited he shamelessly climbed on the bed and knelt behind Nydia, pressing his hard cock against her back. He waved his purse at the sailor she was straddling indicating that he was willing to pay his share. The sailor didn’t care a fig either way; he was too busy riding the little mare, screwing her arse over his bursting cock. Nydia looked over her shoulder and blew him a kiss, not realising that was a well acknowledged sign in the brothel inviting a man’s cock into a whore’s mouth. He stood up on the edge of the bed and turned her face towards him. Now she really was a professional, taking on two men at once, fucking one and sucking the other. When she had been fucked on the sacks it had been painful and dirty, now she was fucking for pleasure and profit. But she still had to find out what was going with her mistress and that man. Until her master granted her freedom she was still his slave and couldn’t take up whoring until she was formally freed. That thought made her ride like a rampant mare and the man beneath responded by clutching her hips and holding her still while he pumped his juice deep inside her. Her head bobbed over the cock in her mouth and it didn’t take him long to come. He slapped her back and she swallowed his juice, gulping it down her throat in a single heave. The young sailor tossed a coin on the bed and left promising he’d look for her again. The man beneath her eased her off him and dragged her onto her back, throwing her legs open.

  Before she could utter a word of protest he was in her again, ramming his cock in her belly and riding her.

  “Always ride a whore twice,” he told her. “Once for the pleasure of opening her cunt, and twice so you don’t forget her face.”