Replay Book 9_Gladiator

by Nia Farrell

“Shit!” The single word escaped her lips before she could stop it. Leda froze, not knowing how they would react. She should have gotten a spank on the ass. Instead, she got a kiss that was pure Lukas.

  Leda knew that mouth, that taste, that tongue. She knew those big, strong hands. They freed her own and stripped away clothes until nothing was left between them but hot, harsh breaths and burgeoning arousal.

  Her legs parted without volition as he kissed his way down her body, suckling her breasts, dipping into her navel, and nuzzling her clean-shaven mound. He followed her seam and parted her lips. Tracing her inner folds and wetting his fingers, he pushed one of them inside her.

  His tongue darted out, searching until he found her clitoris and coaxed it from its hood. He licked it, teased it, and circled it, drawing erotic patterns from the sexual portfolio in his head.

  Two men knelt on the bed near her head. One of them smelled like sage. The other had used a citrus body wash. Two hands reached for her breasts and claimed them, squeezing her mounds, plucking at her nipples, pinching, pulling, and twisting the diamond-hard peaks. Tormenting them sent twin bolts of electricity to her core.

  Sensing it, Sir Lucius fastened his mouth over her clit and sucked it in, sealing them together and making her buck and writhe beneath him. Her citrus Dom’s hand moved to the underside of her breast. His opened mouth engulfed her nipple, tasting, teasing. Shifting angles, his hair fell down, dreadlocks brushing her chest as he suckled her. Sir Djiman. Sir Djiman was citrus, which meant that Sir Antony was sage.

  Sir Antony slid his hand up to her throat and squeezed it, not enough for breathplay but more than enough to let her know who was in charge. The next thing she felt was the head of his cock, painting her lips with precum, then pushing against them, parting them. When her teeth didn’t follow, he gripped her jaw and pressed on points that had her opening wide for him. He forged inside, claiming her mouth with his cock, rubbing it on her tongue, pushing against her palate, and driving deep into her throat.

  Too much.

  Unable to speak, Leda raised her hand and pinched Sir Antony’s thigh. When he backed off slightly in response, Leda rubbed the hurt away.

  The bed dipped again when Sir Marcus joined them. He sat by her waist on Sir Antony’s side and began kneading the breast that he had abandoned. Sir Lucius worked a second finger inside her and began pumping his hand in slow, deep strokes. With a cock in her mouth, hands and lips on her breasts, and a tongue on her clit, all it took was the curl of Lukas’s fingers to push her to the precipice and send her flying.

  Sir Djiman changed positions, shifting to kiss her ear, her cheek, the corner of her lips, the shaft of Sir Antony’s cock as it slid in and out of her mouth. Sir Antony pulled out of her mouth and leaned forward so that his sac was against her lips and the slick, meaty shaft of his erection was available for Sir Djiman’s mouth.

  He swallowed him to the root, eliciting a growl from Sir Antony that was more felt than heard. Leda bathed his balls with her tongue, then suckled them, drawing them gently into her mouth to give him the greatest pleasure. The dual stimulation was more than enough for Sir Antony. His balls drew up tight. He drove in deep, shuddering to a finish inside Sir Djiman’s mouth. When the last pulsing jet had been emptied, he backed off the bed.

  Cupping her face, Sir Djiman turned her head towards his and kissed her, giving her a generous taste of Sir Antony’s seed. The bed shifted again, above and below. Sir Marcus took Sir Antony’s place for his turn to receive oral pleasure. Sir Lukas shoved her thighs apart, knelt between them, and sank his length into her pussy.

  Sir Djiman stayed where he was, nuzzling Leda’s neck, scoring it with his teeth, playing with her breasts, stroking her body with long, firm sweeps of his hands which she found both soothing and arousing. There was a comforting aspect to his touch, but his fingers unerringly found the points that would bring her torment or pleasure, when he’d teased her long enough.

  Sir Marco had a cock to match the man. Massive was the word that came to mind. It was long and thick, with velvety skin that slid over a core as hard as oak. Three of the Doms were uncircumcised. Reaching, she ran her curious fingers down Sir Djiman’s body. His erection bounced against her hand, seeking satisfaction.

  It lacked the extra flesh of the others. While his cock was by no means small, he didn’t have quite the length or girth of the other men. What he did have was a curve that would hit her G-spot perfectly when he fucked her pussy.

  For now, it was Lucius’s turn. Stimulating her clit, he brought her to another orgasm and another. Eventually, he switched places with Sir Marcus, who had to work his way inside her vagina. Once he did, he freed all restraints and began pounding into her while Sir Lucius fucked her mouth.

  After a while, Sir Lucius pulled away, giving Sir Marcus room to roll over with her. Lying on top of him, she was free to explore the wide, furred chest and nuzzle her face in his hair. She held her breath when Sir Lucius came between both of their legs, slathered her anus with coconut oil, and sank his length inside her.

  She’d once had a friend tell her that there was nothing like being with two men at once. She had no idea how true that was until she felt Sir Marcus and Sir Lucius working together, finding their rhythm, and filling her beyond measure.

  Not to be left out, Sir Antony rejoined them. Catching her wrist, he brought her hand to his groin and wrapped her fingers around his cock, then shifted again until he’d reached her mouth. What didn’t fit easily inside, she jacked with her hand.

  Blindly, she reached to the other side, feeling for Sir Djiman, unwilling to leave him out of the action. He obliged, moving well within range of her questing fingers.

  The curve of his cock fascinated her. She celebrated their differences. Sir Antony’s command. Sir Marcus’s size. Sir Lucius’s endurance. Sir Djiman’s gentle strength.

  Sir Antony was the first to finish, driving in deep and coming in her mouth, shooting pulsing streams of white across her tongue and against her palate.

  She swallowed every drop.

  Sir Marcus was next. His rhythm broke. His hips snapped, and he erupted like Mt. Vesuvius inside her. Feeling it, she turned her head and gently tugged on Sir Djiman, opening her mouth and taking him in. She slid her fingers along his taint and hooked the tip of her finger in his ass.

  He exploded, detonated by her touch, pouring copious amounts of ejaculate into her mouth. He came so much, she was challenged to swallow it all.

  Sir Lucius tunneled in deep and let loose, coming to a shuddering finish inside her. When he had emptied himself, he reluctantly withdrew, leaving only Sir Marcus's softening manhood inside her.

  “Oh, my,” was all that she could say for the longest time.

  Sir Marcus slipped off her blindfold. She blinked, letting her eyes adjust to the candlelit banquet room. The men had chosen one of the custom-made beds, built for orgies, that would easily hold all five of them.

  “Liebchen.” Sir Lukas’s voice was the first thing she heard once he’d removed her earplugs. “How are you? Were we too much?”

  She smiled like the sated woman that she was. “I’m fine, Sir, but thirsty. May I have some water, please?”

  Sir Djiman slipped away and brought her back a bottle. Dismounting from Sir Marcus, she eased herself to one side and sat near the center of the bed. “Thank you,” she said. Before she could take a drink, her stomach growled. “Sorry. My supper was in my purse. It needs refrigerated if I’m not going to eat it.”

  Sir Antony sliced a telling glance at Sir Lucius. “If we’re going to keep her, we need to feed her. Maybe not every three hours like you, but see that she’s taken care of.”

  She watched Lukas walk away, admiring the perfection of his clean-shaven form. When he returned, the view from the front was even better. The substantial length of his manhood swayed between his sculpted thighs with every step.

  Her purse was in his hands.

  “Let’s take this to our space,” Sir Antony said. �
�Sir Djiman, you and Marcus bring the clothes. Sir Lucius, you’re cooking. Chica, you come with me.”

  Sir Antony took her purse from Sir Lucius. Extending his free hand, he helped her off the bed. Immediately, cum began leaking out of her.

  Seeing her look of distress, he quickly assessed the situation and remedied it, nabbing a T-shirt from the clothes in Sir Djiman’s arms and tucking it between her legs. She managed to not make a mess on the floor.

  He guided her into the private living quarters shared by the four men. It was decorated in an eclectic mix of antique, modern, and industrial furnishings and accents. All of the seating was sturdy enough to fit four athletes. He didn’t stop until he’d reached his bedroom, which smelled of the sage that he’d burned in an abalone shell. He led her into the en-suite and put her purse on the counter.

  “Void, chica” he ordered, pointing to the commode, “while I fill the bathtub. If you have some ibuprofen or another analgesic, take the dose you normally would after a strenuous workout. If you don’t have any, I will get you some. And take it again at bedtime. Otherwise, you will be too sore to move tomorrow.”

  Leda bit her lip and set down the half-empty water bottle on the counter. The Dom had ordered her to void, but it was clear that he wasn’t going to leave the room and give her the privacy that she would have preferred. Sir Antony still intimidated her. Less than he did, but there was no denying her reaction to him when she avoided his gaze at all cost and shied away from his touch.

  Silly, after what they’d done, but she couldn’t help it.

  Pulling the T-shirt from between her legs, she draped it over her lap when she sat down. If Sir Antony noticed, he said nothing. Instead, he busied himself gathering towels and the bath products she might need. She flushed when she was done and joined him by a sunken soaker tub that seemed large enough to fit three or four people.

  “Did you take your ibuprofen?” he asked, checking the water temperature.

  Shit. She had been watching his braid swing as he worked. She found the way that he wore his hair fascinating. The contrast between the front and back was a startling revelation, as was the fact that he burned sage in his room. The practice for cleansing energy revealed a spiritual side to him that she would never have guessed.

  “No, Sir. I’m sorry. I forgot.”

  Quick as lightning, he smacked her ass.

  She yelped, as much in surprise as anything.

  “Do it now, or there are twenty more where that came from.”

  Leda scurried to her purse. Fishing out a tube of ibuprofen, she put two in her palm and added a twelve-hour analgesic that would keep working through the night. She drank another fourth of her water to get them down.

  “Bring your sandwich,” he told her. “I don’t know if you’ll like what Lucius is fixing. If you do, you can eat more. Either way, you’ll be burning calories tonight.”

  Chapter Five

  Leda carried the plastic-wrapped sandwich and what was left of her water to the tub.

  Sir Antony took them from her. “Get in,” he ordered, giving her no choice but to obey.

  Steam rose from the water. It was hotter than she would have made it, but it would definitely help her muscles relax.

  Sir Antony set her supper within easy reach and stepped into the water. “Scoot up, chica. Make room for me.”

  Her heart lurched to feel him climbing in behind her. She didn’t know what it was about the Spanish Dom that she found so intimidating. None of the other three affected her like he did.

  He unwrapped her sandwich and tore off a corner of it. “Here,” he said. “Eat.”

  She reached for it, but he refused to yield it. Instead, he made her eat from his hand. “All of it,” he admonished.

  Catching her breath, she licked the crumbs from his fingers.

  “Good girl. Now, drink.”

  Peering over her shoulder, he placed the bottle against her lips and tipped it, giving her a sip, then two. He set the water aside and tore off another piece of sandwich, feeding it to her and giving her drinks until everything was gone.

  “Now, let’s get you cleaned up. What body wash do you want to use?”

  Brand new bottles of her favorite bath gels sat in a row. Peach, jasmine, and lemongrass. Someone had done their homework. Learning her favorite scents. Discovering her secret kink. Figuring out where she’d be tonight so that they could take her and make her kidnap fantasy come true.

  “Sir, may I ask a question?”

  He paused with the bath sponge in one hand. “You may,” he decided, “but I reserve the right to not answer.”

  “How long?” she breathed. Picking up the peach body wash, she handed it to him.

  He grunted softly and flipped the cap. Squeezing out the sponge, he added the bath gel and began washing her.

  “New Year’s Eve was when we got serious. Sir Marcus and I had noticed you before, but we rarely do scenes together and you’ve always been working. Nearly all the wardrobe staff are submissives by nature, but it was the way that you served the patrons and staff members assigned to you. Your patience. Your kindness. You have a gift for making each person feel special. We hoped that you could do it here, too. The men need it. We just didn’t know how open you would be to the idea of submitting to the four of us. We’re a lot to handle. We train hard and fuck harder.”

  As if to emphasize the point, his stiffening cock tapped the hollow of her back.

  “You are very beautiful,” he murmured, each word imbued with the magic of Spain. “You have a light that shines from the inside, chica, and I have been too long in the dark. We need you here. We want you here. But only you can decide what is best for you. You have a life. A job. We will not interfere with your work. Or not much, anyway.” She felt his lips curve against her ear just before he kissed it. “But I tell you this, chica. At the end of the evening, I would very much like your face to be among the last ones that I see.”

  By the time he finished his speech, Leda was close to tears. Any intimidation that she’d felt was gone. In its place was a new awareness of this man and what they were offering her. A place in their lives while keeping her own identity. Four men to welcome at the end of the day and warm her bed at night.

  “Where will I sleep?”

  “Tonight, you will stay with Sir Djiman and me. We let the others have their turn. Tomorrow, I will see what we can do about permanent sleeping arrangements. We need to outfit a bedroom that will fit all of us. I do not like the idea of parceling you out. If you want your own room, either for a sanctuary or workspace, we will need to furnish that, too. That is, if you decide to stay.”

  “I think,” she said slowly, “that I would like to. I don’t know how well I can handle the four of you. I’ve never done a ménage before tonight, but it seemed to go okay.”

  He chuckled. “Ah, chica! Such a delight you are. Si, it went well. It went very well. And that was just the beginning for us. The best is yet to be. Tell me that you can feel it, too.”

  She couldn’t tell if she sensed it independently, or if she was simply feeling his enthusiasm. Whatever it was, it felt good. It felt right. All things considered, it boded well for the future that they could make here together.

  Sir Lucius proved to be quite the capable chef, grilling marinated chicken breasts and a variety of vegetables. Seasoned with lemon and herbs, he served them over a bed of baked spaghetti squash that he’d scraped into strands with a fork. A bowl was filled with an assortment of fresh fruit—strawberries, red and white grapes, figs, and plums. It wasn’t on his diet, but there was a basket of sliced, crusty bread and a crock of softened butter that Leda found a nice addition to the meal.

  The wine that Sir Marcus chose went perfectly with the food. Sir Antony limited her to one glass. He wanted her clear-headed at the evening’s end when he and Sir Djiman took her to bed.

  While the men all had careers, it was clear that they had made sacrifices to be part of Replay’s staff. Sir Djiman had cut back to tea
ching one class, two nights a week. He was building his private clientele’s schedule around his hours at the resort.

  The men practiced swordplay and combat techniques at least one hour a day, in addition to the other workout regimens that they maintained. Being a fitness model, Sir Lucius’s training schedule was the most demanding of all, and his diet was the most regimented. The six weeks ahead of a scheduled shoot was particularly hard.

  Sir Marcus had stopped shooting assignments on weekends unless the location was close enough, he could work the shoot around Replay’s scenes. During the week, he edited pictures, booked shoots that accommodated his training schedule, and taught photography basics to Sir Lucius.

  The Doms asked about her work and everything that it entailed, from researching period clothing, drafting patterns, and constructing reproduction garments with antiquated sewing techniques. They listened and asked questions, making a concerted effort to learn more about her. By the end of the meal, she felt even better about her decision to give this a try.

  Once the dishes were scraped, rinsed, and put in the dishwasher, the men gave her the grand tour of the villa, starting with their private quarters.

  The front part of the Roman villa was for Replay scenes. Patrons would enter through a front courtyard. Outlined by stone columns and arches, it boasted a small, outdoor pool. Orgies would be held in the spacious banquet hall. A large, heated pool was inspired by Roman baths and lit by torches. There were period-appropriate stone toilets, adapted to flush on command, and hand washing stations for patrons and staff members. The catering kitchen would allow food and drink to be prepared on site.

  Their pride and joy, however, was the arena. The field of combat was covered in sand, bound by thick stone walls, and surrounded by tiers of stone benches for viewing. Just seeing it made her stomach pinch. She hadn’t considered what it would take to watch them fight—or if she even could. Knowing that it was fake helped to a point, but she had trouble sitting through action movies. And forget those favorite video shows on television. Anytime it looked like people got hurt, the TV got turned off or the channel got changed. Her heart was just too tender.