by Evans, Casey
A sudden and thunderous applause startled Petronia out of her reverie. The applause continued for some time then suddenly there was quiet. Someone, probably the Praetor was talking, but she couldn’t hear what was being said. With no sun down under the Arena it was impossible to tell if it was time for the Primus or not. Suddenly the crowd began their applause again. Clearly they were happy about something.
They were still carrying on when a soldier came to get Petronia.
I guess this is it, she thought to herself. The soldier led her down the long corridor to the gate. As she passed the staging area she tried not to look but she had too. This was where the bodies of the dead were collected to be cut up and disposed of. She didn’t want to look, but she had to. As soon as she did she regretted it. She didn’t see Albinia, but what she saw was bad enough. All those brave gladiators, those men who died with honor and glory, they were just pieces of meat now. Bloody chunks of meat lying in a bloody trough underneath the stadium. Where was the honor and glory in that? And in a few minutes, that’s where she would be. Suddenly she vomited. She couldn’t help it. She just vomited, narrowly missing hitting the guard in front of her.
When they opened the gate and led her out into the middle of the Arena she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her. There standing in the middle of the Arena was her friend Albinia. She was bloody, but standing on her own two feet with a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. Lying at her feet was a gladiator, very obviously dead. How she could have done that Petronia had no idea, but there she was the victor.
Up in the Pulvinus the Praetor was speaking but for some reason his words failed to reach her ears, but the message was clear enough. Slay your best friend and you get to keep your miserable life. Fail to take her life, and someone else kills you both. From Albinia’s expression it was obvious she understand what was at stake here.
Kill or be killed. Well that’s not going to happen Petronia thought to herself. I’ll never kill my best friend. She looked back at the Praetor just as he gave the signal for the contest to begin. She turned back to face her friend.
Albinia looked at her with compassionate eyes and mouthed the words “I love you.”
Then she reversed her gladius so that the point was resting against her throat and Petronia screamed.
“No!”
* * * * *
CHAPTER ELEVEN:
Blood Sisters
* * * * *
Petronia stood there in shock, staring at her only friend in the whole world, Albinia. The Praetor was speaking from the Pulvinus but she couldn’t hear a word despite the prolonged silence from the normally rowdy crowd. It was almost like her brain refused to let the words in. She didn’t have to hear them to know what was being said. It was obvious Albinia understood what was happening perfectly well and that was the reason for her unthinkable actions.
It was like one of those dreams where everyone could move but you. Like when she was a little girl and used to dream about some creatures chasing her. It was like her legs were stuck in molasses and the tiger that was chasing her could run perfectly well.
The bloody sands of the Arena was her molasses, and Albinia the tiger. She was moving fast and Petronia was in slow motion. She had to just watch as her childhood friend reversed her gladius and put the razor sharp tip to her throat. Petronia opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out. She lunged forward to grab the blade but she couldn’t get her body in forward motion.
The moment the spray of blood hit her face she suddenly became mobilized. The scream that was caught in her throat was ripped from her vocal chords and her cry of anguish rose above the Arena. The wind carried it out over the city of Savona and up into the clouds where it was returned to her like rain. The people in the arena that had been sweltering in the mid- day heat opened their mouths but it came with an ashy bitter taste that did nothing to quench their thirst.
Petronia caught her friend as her lifeless body crumpled to the ground. She watched the grey silted rain mix with her beloved’s blood on the ground around her knees. She closed her eyes that burned from the bitter water falling from the heavens and she prayed to the gods that she too could find sweet release from her life of slavery. But the prayer caught in her mouth. She could not finish. There was something else she had to do first and she would not stop until it was done. She looked up at the Praetor who was still standing in the Pulvinus along with Lanista Gaius Gracchus Tiberius, her Dominus. With newfound strength he raised the tip of her gladius and pointed it at both men, swearing on the life of her beloved Albinia and on her blackened soul, to be the death of those men, then she could let herself depart this life.
Seeing the slave girl’s gesture, the Praetor signaled the release of the gates allowing two more gladiators to enter the rain drenched arena. Petronia let her friend slide down her knees and to the soaked ground. She gave her one last, loving look, then stood, focusing her attention on the approaching gladiators. There was murder in her eyes!
When the two gladiators were within five meters of her outstretched sword tip, she began her charge. She was liked a possessed beast, a mad woman who had been transformed by grief from gladiatrix to beast incapable of being vanquished. Her opponents came to the same conclusion and froze in their tracks. The man on Petronia’s right was slightly forward his companion, and her first victim. She hit him with a tornado-like spinning attack, as her body spun, both gladius and pugio struck the man’s shield, left to right, and knocking the huge piece of metal completely from his muscled arm. Her forward momentum carried her past him and right into the second gladiator, sweeping aside both his weapons with her sword. As her body finished her last revolution she buried her dagger in his throat, sending a fountain of blood bathing the back of his partner before he fell face first in the muddy ground.
The remaining gladiator tried to turn and reorient his blade on Petronia but she was moving too fast. She leapt into the air, her feet climbing up his body like some fleshy steps until she was literally standing on his shoulders. He stabbed his sword upwards thinking he would skewer her between her tanned legs but she was already dropping to the ground. As she stepped off his shoulders she spun around to face him seeing the fear in his eyes just before she extinguished them with a single thrust of her gladius up beneath his chin and out the top of his head. He was dead long before his body hit the ground.
The crowd erupted in pandemonium never before heard in the 500 year history of the old Arena. This was the spectacle they all came to see but didn’t know it yet. She, Petronia from Floretia became on that day a Goddess of the Arena! The Praetor could have released half his Roman guard on her that day and she’d have slain them without breaking a sweat. It was time to reward the girl.
It took ten minutes for the crowd to acknowledge the Praetor and quieten down. Now that he had their attention it was time to show Roman mercy.
“My fellow citizens of Rome. What you have witnessed this day has been beyond spectacle. You have been graced with seeing the pinnacle of what the human body is capable. My fellow Savonans, I give you Petronia, Goddess of the Arena!”
Now he held up both thumbs in a traditional gesture, both horizontal ready to turn up and give life, or down signaling death.
“My good people, what say you of Petronia, Goddess of the Arena, life or death?”
Their voices were as one single shout of life! Petronia smiled grimly. The Praetor had just signed his death warrant.
Part Two…
Petronia awoke with a start. Instinctively she reached for her pugio as she rolled off the side of her palette opposite the cell door. A sharp cry of surprise stopped her hand mid motion as she grabbed the stranger’s long dark hair. She had intended to jerk the person’s head toward her chest as she jabbed forward with the point of her blade. The result would have been one dead slave girl and a lot of explaining to do. Petronia let go of the girls tresses and stepped back, her dagger still between herself and the strange girl.
“Sorry to
wake you mistress, but Dominus says I must present myself as gift for your triumph in the Arena today.”
“Gift?” Petronia was outraged. Her best friend had died today. She wanted no reminders of the afternoon’s events. “I do not want Dominus’ gift. Leave me to sleep.”
“But I must not. If I do not please you Dominus will make me please the pigs and goats.”
Petronia thought about it for a moment. That sounded truly disgusting. “Alright, you can stay with me tonight but I need my sleep. If you let me sleep I will report to the Dominus that I was well pleased.”
“Oh thank you, thank you Gladiatrix.”
“Relax girl, we’re just sleeping.”
“Of course Gladiatrix.” At that the young girl undid the clasp of her tunic and let the thin fabric fall in a heap around her feet.
Petronia did not intend to look but her eyes were automatically drawn to the slave’s body. She was a stunning specimen to gaze upon. Without meaning to, Petronia let her gaze slide down the girl’s svelte figure to the black tufts of hair covering her sex. The girl took Petronia’s gaze as an invitation and she knelt down on her pallet and made to lay down, but seeing a burst of fire leap into her eyes, she jumped back apologizing.
“I’m so sorry Gladiatrix I thought you mean-“
Petronia’s face softened. “It’s okay. I don’t expect you to sleep on the floor.” Then seeing a disappointed look on the girl’s face; “It’s not that you’re not pretty…you’re stunning…it’s just...this is just a day I’d rather forget, not mark it as a day I’ll always remember by the charms of a slave girl.”
“You over estimate my charms, Gladiatrix.”
Petronia lay down on her pallet and patted her hand next to her, indicating that the other girl should lie down. “Never the less…What do they call you?”
“Flora.”
“Well Flora, I hope you don’t snore, because I really have to get some sleep before training tomorrow.”
“I won’t wake you Gladiatrix.”
Petronia was very nearly asleep when she felt a hand resting on her tummy just above her navel. She forced herself to breath regularly, but when the hand moved up and cupped a breast, she caught her breath. She cursed to herself. Now the girl was going to know she was awake. The hand on her breast squeezed ever so slightly, then she found a nipple with her thumb and forefinger. She gave a tentative squeeze, before withdrawing entirely. When the hand returned well below her belly button and just above her sex, she froze. Was the girl actually going to do this, after all she said? She felt fingertips brush the wisps of hair between her legs, caressing the softness of her hair. Without even knowing why, when the girl’s hand slid down between her legs, she opened her moist thighs, giving the girl free access.
She felt the girl’s expert fingers on her velvety lips, then on her sacred button. Each touch, each tender caress sent little sparks of delicious energy shooting through her body and she wondered how the sensation on such a little thing could make her entire body feel so good. The slave girl began to kiss her neck, and each little peck sent little shivers up and down her spine. She felt the girl’s lips work their way up to her jaw line, then her cheek before caressing the corners of her mouth. Without quite knowing why, Petronia turned her head just enough so the girls mouth was pressed to hers.
She couldn’t believe how soft and warm they were. Just when she thought that’s all there was to kissing she felt the girl’s lips part and her tongue was tracing the outline of Petronia’s lips. Petronia sighed and her lips parted ever so slightly, but it was like an invitation to the slave girl’s tongue. The girl ran her tongue over teeth, and when Petronia opened her mouth to give voice to pleasure, she found the girls tongue had slipped in was tangling with her own in some sensual, erotic wresting match. She had no idea what a pleasure kissing could be. It’s no wonder mothers tell their girls not to kiss the boys. If she had known this five years ago…
Without even intending to do so, Petronia was grinding her pussy into the girls palm as she fingered her sending waves of pleasure throughout her body. She opened her mouth even more and inhaled the girl’s sweet breath and the taste of her delicate tongue and she wondered absentmindedly if she was a good kisser or not. Gradually the girl withdrew her delicate mouth, and watched as the girl made tracks of saliva down her bronzed skin, stopping long enough to take a hardened nipple into her mouth. Petronia cried out in ecstasy as the girl bit down, making Petronia’s whole body arch off the bed. What new technique was this she wondered as the pain subsided? She wanted more, but the slave girl had other plans. Petronia almost kicked the girl in a knee jerk reaction when tongue replaced fingers. If she thought the girl was good with her hand, it was nothing compared to her lips on her lips and her tongue on her clit. It was so good it should be illegal she thought to herself while she was still capable of thought.
Soon wave after waves of orgasms soared through her body until she was spent. She fell asleep with the girl in her arms and her breath on her cheek. What a glorious experience that was!
* * * * *
CHAPTER TWELVE:
Dangerously Bored
* * * * *
Petronia continued to mourn the loss of her friend Albinia, and welcomed days of hard training because the only thing that could make her forget. As she worked over the wooden practice dummy waiting for a sparring partner to free up, she recalled how her training had progressed. Initially she had always been paired with the worst of the gladiators, the ones not worth the effort to train. But as she began to beat them, Doctore began partnering her up with a better and better class of fighter until she finally was sparring against the best they had; and she was usually kicking their asses. Now she was back with the worst fighters, but now in a different role. She was paired with them so they could learn from her; and she soon found she had plenty to teach them.
She relished her days in the Ludis. When she had blades in her hands was the only time she actually felt alive. Her gladius’ became extensions of herself and it was the most natural thing in the world. This morning she was paired against two newer slaves and who had come into the Ludis full of attitude. It was their belief Petronia wasn’t worth their best effort. She had been tasked with proving to them she was better than their best efforts combined.
As they pressed their attack Petronia forced them to break up their footwork and to get into each other’s way. Doctore watched as his lone female gladiator (gladiatrix) accurately predicted the two men’s attack, and forced them to abandon a combined assault. As she countered with her own attack them were she was so fast it was like being set upon by several attackers at once and not one female slave. Doctore ducked as a wooden practice sword flew out of the hands of one of Petronia’s opponent. He jumped back out of reach wringing his injured hand. He other opponent took his place, pressing his attack, hoping his sheer size and strength would be enough to make her pay. Petronia laughed to herself. Every move the gladiator made he telegraphed it. As he stepped in to close the distance with her, she delivered a powerful kick to his sternum with the heel of her foot and he went sprawling on his but in the one of the many puddles that littered the courtyard.
It had scarcely stopped raining since she had witnessed her best friends sacrifice in the arena nearly a week ago. Most of the citizens of Savona believed the rain was a direct result of Petronia’s broken heart. Some went so far as to believe that if she could just be happy again, or at least forget, the sun would return to dry up the land. Dominus must have believed the same thing because he kept sending gifts to Petronia in the way of food, breaks from training, and an occasional slave to be her plaything, but none of these things made her happy or even lifted her heart even a little. No amount of fucking, however spectacular would bring back her friend. The one thing she believed would help was so far removed from possibilities that she rarely entertained the thought. One day she would make the Praetor pay with his life for the sentencing of her friend Albinia. But the Praetor seldom came to Sav
ona, and even more seldom did he come to the House of Tiberius.
So she took what joy she could from humiliating her fellow gladiators at the ends of her blades. When the gladiator, Segundo landed on his ass, she was quick to follow, dropping a knee in his unprotected solar plexus. The weight of her body striking the soft spot where his ribs divided in the center of his mass made his head pop up off the ground. Without a second thought she brought the pommel of her gladius crunching down on the bridge of the man’s nose. Without missing a beat, she dropped her right shoulder and rolled off his body and back to her feet just in time to block the other gladiator’s inept attack. Her heart sang as she ripped into the other man making him look like a boy a sword in his hands for the first time.
She knocked the blade to the side and stepped inside his reach making the long range weapon useless. As she stepped into him she spun to her right, using the tornado-like motion of her body to put the power behind the elbow she sent crashing into the other’s jaw. In one continuous spin she was back out of range again and lowered the point of her blades contemptuously as she watched the man fall to the ground. In a few moments the pain of his shattered jaw would wake him but the fight was over for both men.
Doctore stalked up to her, clearly displeased. “Did you have to take them both out of action? Couldn’t you have just…I don’t know…Did you have to humiliate them like that?”
“Couldn’t you pair me with worthy opponents? I grow tired of training useless men. These are not gladiators,” she said, pointing down the line of men sparring each other. “They’re children in men’s clothing. You waste my talents.”
“I will try to find someone your equal for your return to the Arena Sunday.” He replied.
“Sunday? I’m to fight again in two days?”