Seduced by the Gladiator

by Lauren Hawkeye

  I was an object to him, something to collect. He wanted to possess me.

  Even worse, in the depths of those pale eyes, I saw that he wanted to hurt me. He wanted to dominate the female gladiator.

  Instead, he had told me to hold my breasts in my hands and to stand still. I had done as he had asked, holding back my trembles with only the most extreme of effort.

  He had not touched me. Instead he had pulled his red-haired companion to the floor, had taken her from behind viciously. He had in turn made the woman impaled on his cock lick at the cunt of the other, all while he watched me with hunger playing over his face.

  Only after he had climaxed, shooting great streams over the ass of the woman, had I been granted permission to leave. I had not stayed long enough even to dress, wanting—needing—to be removed from the cesspool of debauchery as quickly as possible.

  I could only be thankful that it was night, and the men were asleep. Never before had I felt so weak, so unable to take care of myself. It was not something that I wanted anyone to see.

  When the heaving had stopped, I knelt on the sand for a long moment, shivering as the cool predawn breeze brushed against my naked skin. I fisted my fingers in the sand, then watched it trickle out in a pale stream.

  I had finally accepted something, it seemed. No matter how much of a pet I was, no matter how much fame and coin and glory that I managed to amass, I was a slave. I had no free will.

  I had survived this night by choosing the lesser of two evils. But what did Gaius have in store for me in his arena games?

  Unsteady, heavy, weighed down by the realization, I struggled to my feet, staggered the few remaining steps to the door of my chamber. It was closed, but I knew that Christus would never have tied the leather locks in place if I was not inside the room with him.

  I barely had the strength to push on the wood hard enough to open the door. I wondered fleetingly how I would be feeling if I had not been granted a choice upstairs. If Gaius had sucked so much of my energy away without even touching me, how weak would I feel if he had gotten his way?

  I stood in the doorway, letting my eyes adjust to the dim light within. As soon as I found Christus, I felt something indescribable well up inside of me.

  I did not cry—my eyes remained dry. Still, a sound that was part anguished scream, part wail emitted from the depths of my belly, and I hugged my arms to my naked chest, letting the new leathers that I had dragged down the steps with me fall to the floor.

  “What has happened?” Moving faster than it seemed possible, Christus was at my side in an instant. I stared at him wordlessly, my eyes big and staring. Once the noise of anguish had escaped me, it seemed that I now had nothing left to say.

  “Fuck.” Cursing low, Christus scooped me into his arms as if I weighed no more than a child. I felt his muscles tense against my weight as he carried me to the bed, and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to absorb some of his strength, for I needed it desperately.

  I expected him to place me on the bed himself, but he sat down with his arms still holding me, and pulled me in close. I froze for a moment, still unused to close embraces. Bit by bit, though, I felt my muscles relax as the heat of his body melted into my own. The scent that was uniquely his own enveloped me, branded me, hiding all traces of Gaius’ taint.

  Once I relaxed against him, Christus shifted so that I had to look into his face. Though I knew that I should not, I felt shame.

  “What was done to you?” The edge in his voice warned me not to lie. I stared back at him, my lips twisted as they tried to open and yet would not.

  “Lilia. Were you raped?” Gently he trailed a hand down my spine, the touch comforting and uniquely his.

  The words still stuck in my throat, I shook my head.

  “Were you beaten?” Again, I shook my head. How was I to describe what had happened, the humiliation of it?

  “Lilia. Tell me.” There was so much anger, barely suppressed, in Christus’ voice. Instead of feeling smothered by his reaction, I finally felt some of his strength seeping into me.

  It had been a long time since someone had cared enough for me to want to help carry my burdens.

  “It . . . it is likely not what you think.” Haltingly, I recounted the events of the sin-laden party that I had been an unwilling participant in. Though I felt Christus’ body tense beneath me, he did not do as I would have done—that is, he did not rush up to pound on the gate that separated the gladiators’ quarters from the main house. Where I would have screamed for vengeance, he was quiet, absorbing all that I said.

  “Here.” Christus picked me up as he spoke. I protested when he removed me from his lap and placed me beside him on the bed. Sluggish with fatigue now, I watched through half-closed eyes as Christus lit the fat white taper that sat on the table, and as he gathered a cloth and the jug of water that were kept fresh by the house slaves.

  Returning to me, he pressed his balm gently against my collarbone, urging me to lie down on my back.

  “What are you doing?” I furrowed my brow as he dipped the cloth in the water, then wrung out the excess.

  “Let me take care of you.” As a reflex, I very nearly said that I did not need to be taken care of. Even though I found the idea pleasant, it was still difficult to remain silent, and even more so to submit to his ministrations.

  It was hard to change the habits that had been ingrained within me. I supposed, however, that I was no longer the woman who bristled with self-sufficiency.

  “Close your eyes.” Christus brought the cloth to my forehead, patting away the clamminess that had gathered there. He passed the cloth down each cheek, then across my neck, before pausing to rewet the cloth.

  It felt better than I ever could have imagined to be cleaned. Though I knew that it was silly, being bathed at the hand of someone whom I cared about seemed to wash away the sick taint that Gaius had forced upon me.

  Christus continued to stroke the cloth over me. His touch was soothing, yet brisk and efficient. I knew that he was keeping it so because he did not wish to touch me intimately when I felt so vulnerable.

  I admired him all the more for it, even as I shivered, remembering the lechery on Gaius’ face.

  “Tell me something about yourself.” I needed distraction. “Something of your life, your life before you became a gladiator.”

  Christus’ face darkened, the shadows in the room emphasizing the furrows in his brow. He seemed to be struggling with something to say, and I very nearly told him to forget that I had spoken.

  “I was favored by the gods, once.” When he finally spoke, his voice was raspy, as if these words had been so long inside of him that they had rusted.

  I found that I very much wanted to know something of Christus’ life before I had known him, and so I settled back to listen, my eyes closed.

  “A very long time ago, it was common for Roman plebeians to own small pieces of land, to farm it themselves. But as time passed, many could not afford to support themselves. Most farms now are a part of large estates, ones that are owned by wealthy patricians. These nobles have slaves to work the land for them.” He paused, drew in a deep breath. “Somehow—I never quite understood it—my family had managed to hang on to their land, to live off it. I inherited it when I became a man and took a wife.”

  A wife? I shifted restlessly, trying to bite back my scowl. I knew in my heart that Christus was not the type of man to be with me when he had a wife waiting outside the walls of the ludus, so I assumed that something had happened to her. Even still, I found that I was jealous of any woman who had once held a place in his heart.

  “For two years, my life was perfect. We were not rich, but we made enough to live. And while more and more Romans were sold into slavery because they could not afford to live, we were free.”

  “It sounds perfect.” Freedom—it was not a concept that I had thought of for a long time. I myself had not been free since my twelfth year, when my father had sold me, the eldest of my five siblings, because
he could no longer afford to feed us all. I had been a kitchen slave for years, had run away and been caught by Roman soldiers, who had sold me to the slave trader in return for opium and whores, before eventually being sold to my dominus.

  No, freedom was not a concept that I was overly familiar with. It felt very much as if I had never been.

  Christus swallowed, the sound loud in the still room.

  “It was absolutely perfect. My wife was called Aelia, and she was beautiful. I had loved her since I was a boy, and when our son was born, I named him after her. Aelius.” Christus spoke as if his mind had completely wandered into his past.

  My own was centered firmly in the here and now, struggling with the painful constriction of my heart. Christus had been married, had loved his wife. He had had a son.

  What had happened to them? How much love did he still hold in his heart?

  I did not know what to say, and so I said nothing, instead worrying my lip with my teeth until the skin was raw.

  “One patrician, Ovidius was his name, wanted to grow wheat as well as grapes and olives, to expand his exporting empire. He very much wanted our little patch of land, for things grew well there. I would not sell, no matter the price that he offered, for owning that land meant a steady life.”

  His fingers had slowed, fallen from my body as he spoke. The cloth had dropped to the floor, and he knelt with his hands in his lap.

  “Finally I thought that he understood. He stopped coming to my home, stopped dogging my steps, stopped offering a new threat every day.” Christus’ voice softened, and I heard the guilt that laced his tone. “I was certain that he had moved on. But just as I thought that our lives had returned to normal, I came home from the market one day to find that my wife and son had been slain. I could not prove it, but I knew that it had been the work of Ovidius.” Hearing the pain in his voice, I sat up on the bed, reached out to caress his cheek. He lifted both hands to my own, holding on tightly.

  “I found that I could not stay there, in that house. I left for a time, wandered, grieving. When I returned, Ovidius had seized my land. I was arrested for protesting, and for trying to reclaim it, as he always knew that I would be. I was taken to work in the pits.”

  My mouth fell open as I recoiled. “The pits?” The pits were the underworld on earth, where slaves were worked quite literally to death, mining stone to build houses and amusements for the rich.

  My own troubles shrank, dwindling away to nearly nothing in the face of Christus’ past.

  He smiled then, wanly, his consciousness returning to him slowly. He looked up into my eyes, and I saw the affection that lay there.

  “I was there for less than a fortnight when my former dominus visited the pits, as he often did, looking for new slaves to train as gladiators. I do not know what he saw in me, but he purchased me and took me home that very day.”

  “Christus.” I could hardly bear the story that he had told me. “Surely . . . I mean to say . . . was life not better for you then? Even a small amount?”

  His features sharpened, and I knew that a memory flitted through his mind. He did not expand, replying in few words. “In some ways, yes. But there are other methods of breaking a man.” We sat in silence for a long while, each of us lost in our thoughts.

  A noise from the corridor inside the hallway made us both start, breaking us from our reveries. Rising, Christus placed a hand on either side of my cheek, and kissed me once on the lips, lightly.

  “I did not mean to tell such a sad tale. I do not know why I did. It is not a story that I have ever shared.” His tone light, he picked up the jug of water and the cloth and returned them to the table.

  “I must tell you a happier tale.” Cocking his head, he studied me intently. “One that will lull you to sleep.”

  What he did not say but I already knew was that there were no happy tales in either of our lives.

  We were slaves.

  “Come to me.” Standing, I held out my arms for his embrace. “I want you.”

  What I wanted was to burn away the sadness that he carried. Wanted to wash away the bitterness that tainted my tongue.

  Wanted to prove that what was between us, the scalding heat of it, was real.

  “I will not.” Though his cock had risen at my words and was pressing against the leather of his subligaculum, he seemed horrified by my words. “Not after what you have just been through.”

  His words were like a sword carefully aimed at my heart.

  “Do you . . . is it . . .” Had Gaius tainted this, too? “Do you not wish to have me now that he has looked at my flesh?”

  I would kill the brother of the emperor for taking this from me.

  Christus’ face darkened as he heard my words. “Do not dare.” Before my eyes he transformed into someone dangerous—a predator. “Do not dare to think such a thing.”

  I did dare, for of course it was true. Yes, I would kill Gaius for this, but for now, I needed space in which to repair my shattered heart.

  I whirled, making for the door that led into the depths of the gladiators’ quarters.

  I did not make it more than five steps. I heard him approach, his tread thumping on the floor. Then he was behind me, wrapping his arms around me, turning me before I could process any kind of thought.

  Then his lips were on mine, and the contractions around my heart disappeared, washed away in a fiery bath of heat. He kissed me until my mind began to fog, and for that I was thankful.

  “Lilia?” Pulling back, Christus looked down into my face, the lines of his mouth etched with concern.

  “Shh.” I resisted when he tried to pull me to him again, instead acting on instinct. In that moment, with the encounter with Gaius fresh in my mind, I needed to be the one to lead.

  I pushed at his chest until he acquiesced to my unspoken demand and sat on the bed. I fell on top of him, straddling his thighs, his hands reaching around to trace down the length of my spine.

  I did not want a slow seduction. I wanted something fast, and hard, and able to consume me in its fire.

  I growled in protest when Christus again stood, sliding me down the length of his body. He nipped at my lower lip in warning, and I swallowed thickly, emotion swamping me.

  “Let me help you forget.”

  I found my mouth crushed as Christus dragged my head to his, tangling his fingers in my hair the second that he felt the resistance melt from my body. I muffled a cry as his tongue invaded my mouth, stroking gently even as his lips pressed roughly, making me squirm with anticipation. Just as I found myself relaxing into his kiss, he released my lips and began a series of sharp little bites on my neck that aroused even as they stung. Stunned, I whimpered, a little series of noises that had Christus looking into my face.

  “Do not think.” His voice was breathless as he tugged at the knot of his subligaculum. He nipped at my ear at the same time. “Do not think. Just feel.”

  “Wait, just wait.” In response I found myself lifted off of my feet and turned in midair. “I . . . I don’t want . . .”

  In response, Christus slipped a finger between my naked legs and rubbed, making me gasp both with the sensation and with the brashness with which it was delivered.

  “Yes, you do.” He delivered a sharp smack across the cheek of my right buttock, and I cried out loud.

  I did not have an answer for him—he was right. I wanted whatever he would give me, and I wanted it hot and fast and now.

  Then, finally, all thought was whisked away as Christus rammed me against the wall. He dragged my head back, feasted on my lips, and ground his hips against mine before taking my hand and lowering it to his crotch.

  I sucked in my breath at the brashness of his gesture. This was not a Christus that I knew—my lover was gentle, and persuasive. He seduced me with body and mind.

  This Christus demanded that I please him, and that I do it his way. Though I would never have imagined that it would, I found it incredibly arousing to have such demands made of me.


  His erection jerked beneath my touch. I could feel the heat through the leather, and I squeezed the tip, imagining the skin pulled tight over the weeping flesh.

  He was harder than he had ever been. I wanted him to use that hardness to fuck me.

  Christus placed a hand over mine and made me measure his length and girth with my fingers. Then he groaned, “Now, Lilia,” exhaling hot breath in my ear.

  His words were not a request, and they made a shiver roll over my skin.

  As Christus continued his assault on my mouth, I vaguely heard the sound of tearing cloth. It was my sleep tunic being ripped in half. My breasts were then grasped in rough palms. Thumbs rubbed over my nipples through the shreds of cloth so that they became pebble hard, then clever fingers worked them until they jutted out from my skin in sharp peaks. I writhed against him, and his tongue slithered over the swells, making me inhale sharply.

  Watching my eyes, Christus pulled his subligaculum down over his hips to reveal the jut of his massive erection, which stood forward proudly from its nest of dark curls. Brazenly staring his fill at my own naked skin, he pushed his leathers down his legs, then stepped out.

  Dropping to his knees, he nuzzled at my abdomen. Wicked excitement raced through me as I realized what he was about to do.

  He rained kisses over the quivering flesh of my belly. When my eyes blurred, Christus took the shreds of my tunic, which was already falling down my shoulders, and clamped it in his teeth. Tugging with his mouth, he nudged the fabric down until it slid from my arms and fell to the floor, pooling around my feet.

  Lowering his head, he began to lap at me, rough little licks that had me hissing. Soon his tongue licked at the flesh around my most sensitive spot, and my body threatened to lose control. Around and around his tongue swirled, coming closer and closer, until finally it flicked over the nub of swollen flesh, causing something inside of me to swell, swell like a wave until it crested and left me boneless and sobbing.

  Though the climax left me weak, it still was not enough. Knowing me as he did, I had hardly more than a moment to catch my breath when I was pulled from the wall and turned around. Christus leaned me over the edge of my bedroll, placing my palms flat on the woolen blanket.