“You fuck my mistress, Floriana. Play with her, but don’t hold back.”
“No,” murmured Octavia. “Don’t hold back. Ooohhh…my slaves are wonderful. Your gentle touch is driving me to distraction.” Her belly shook with pent up arousal. “This seduction is…so good.”
Alba’s lips on my neck sent shivers of pleasure down my spine. Her hands descended to my waist, feeling the contours of my frame. She glided across my firm belly to cup the heaviness of my breasts. All the while, I toyed with Octavia’s entrance, sliding a finger ever deeper into her heated moistness. Decima attacked her clitoris, spearing the little nub with the tip of her tongue. My mistress’s arousal was to such an extent, her sex organ had swollen dramatically; the edges of her pussy were puffy. Creamy fluid dripped from her entrance, wetting me.
“Oh! OH! More! Give me more!”
I added a second finger, feeling her muscles constricting around me. Her inner slipperiness allowed for even deeper penetration. I was mindful not to scratch her with my nails. This seemed to inflame her because she lifted her pelvis slightly, matching the rhythm of my thrusts. Saliva dribbled down her anatomy from Decima’s mouth, as she continued to prod and suckle her clit.
“Oh, you filthy whores! You filthy…ooohh…ooohhhh…” She was nearly mindless with lust.
It was an effort to concentrate, because Alba’s hand had drifted lower, sliding over my pussy. I was nearly as wet as Octavia!
“Shall I get your toy, Mistress?” asked Alba. The question was disappointing, because I had wanted her to continue touching me.
Octavia’s eyes flew open, looking dazed and glossy. “Yes! Do it!”
“As you wish, mistress.” Opening a small chest, Alba retrieved a chunk of ivory that had been chiseled and polished into the shape of a well-endowed phallus. “Here.”
She gave me the item. Then she brought over a stone jug that had been perched on thin metal legs. Within the amphorae, there was a fair amount of olive oil. She poured the liquid into the palm of her hand and waited, while I dunked the dildo in the greenish nectar, coating it from top to bottom. Decima continued to lave Octavia, running her tongue in circles around the woman’s clit.
“Oh, bless the gods for this pleasure,” she moaned. “Bless them a thousand times over.”
I moved the ivory phallus up and down her gaping slit. She trembled, thrusting her hips skyward, silently begging me to fuck her. I responded by teasing her with the rounded tip, yet not giving the entire length. Alba was once again behind me, feeling my body, massaging my skin. I tingled where her fingers fell, my nerve endings all but screamed with need. She drifted to my belly and lower, dipping into my dampness, where she found my clit. A finger stroked lower, reaming deeply.
“Ooohh…” I gasped.
My utterance of pleasure did not go unnoticed. “Yes! My whores! My lovely whores! You enjoy this too. Ooohhh… Let’s all moan together…”
Alba’s lips were near my ear. “Give her what she wants, slave. Fuck her hard.”
I watched in erotic fascination as the ivory head disappeared inside Octavia. A throaty groan escaped her, as she flung her head against the cushions. Her fingers grasped at my hair, holding me almost painfully, tangling the ebony tresses. She was in the throws of unimaginable ecstasy.
“That’s it,” murmured Alba. “You’ve got her now.”
Decima ran her tongue in circles around her clitoris, while I plunged the cock deep, making wet, squishing sounds. Alba removed her tunic, pressing her breasts to my back, while fingering my pussy, working even deeper into my tightness. Concentrating on pleasuring Mistress Getha was nearly impossible, as I struggled to ward off the approaching orgasm. Although a virgin, I had indulged in sex often with women, either with the Domina or other slaves, to relax after a long workday.
“Ooohh…” I uttered, in a low, guttural tone. Alba’s lips were on my neck, biting gently and sucking. Her finger slid into me and retreated, massaging my clit and then sinking again. Over and over she tortured me in this manner, while biting my earlobes and kissing my skin. The suddenness of the climax tore through me, forcing my head back, while I moaned uncontrollably. My anatomy shuddered and clenched, milking the finger that was buried to the knuckle. When the last spasms drifted away, I opened my eyes to find the Domina watching.
“That’s a good little whore. You look like an angel when you cum.”
“Th-thank you, mistress.”
Alba took hold of the ivory phallus. “If you’ll allow me, mistress, I can finish.” Being older and more experienced, Alba wasn’t as timid when it came to pleasuring Octavia. She knew exactly what the woman wanted and how to bring her to a screaming peak.
“Yes.” She sounded breathless. “Yes, fuck me with that thing. You know how I like it.”
“I do.”
I sat on my heels, watching while Decima’s tongue glided over her clit. The slave glanced at me with hooded eyes. “Come help, Floriana.”
While Alba knelt between Octavia’s thighs, I settled in on her left, joining Decima. She held open the lips of her labia, exposing her nub, and we flicked our tongues against it, mingling and sharing saliva. The affects of our effort were dramatic, as Octavia moaned loudly, the sound echoing in the sparsely furnished chamber. Alba plunged the ivory cock in deep, only to pull it out again. Grasping the end, she began to fuck her mistress in earnest, working her harder than I ever dreamed possible, but she loved it, groaning even louder.
“OH! Oh, you filthy whores!” She rolled her head from side to side, as perspiration glimmered on her forehead. “Oh, you’re marvelous…truly…the best slaves a girl could have. Ooohhh…”
The thrusting was ceaseless and deep, the tool buried to the hilt. To think that a man’s cock would produce the same effect sent my pulses racing, and an unbidden image of the gladiator went through my mind. He was here now on this property, at this very moment, sleeping with the other gladiators in their cell-like barracks. Would I ever muster up the courage to go over and find him?
“My whores! My whores!” Octavia screamed, shuddering violently, her breasts jiggling while the muscles in her stomach clenched. She had been so loud; we would be lucky if it hadn’t woken the house.
Decima and Alba embraced, kissing and caressing, while their hands rubbed breasts, pinched nipples, and lowered to cup the moist thatches between their thighs. The slaves made quick work of seeking their pleasure, Decima falling to the tiled floor, while Alba straddled her face, pressing her pussy into her mouth.
“Oh, it’s so good. Sooo good,” she breathed. Octavia and I watched, while the slave thrust her hips slightly to feel the pressure of lips and tongue. Her breasts bounced with her movements, the nipples were hard little balls of pinkness. “That’s it! Ooohhh…” She tossed her head back, sending out a cascade of long dark hair, moaning with the extravagance of the experience.
“Marvelous,” murmured Octavia. “That’s it. Pleasure each other, my dirty little whores.”
Alba picked up the ivory cock, sucking the tool into her mouth. “Get on your hands and knees, Decima. It’s your turn.”
“Oh, yes.” She knelt, lifting her ass in the air, exposing a glistening slit.
I detected the feel of Octavia’s hands in my hair, as she held the locks. “You, my pet, are marvelous.” She brought my head back, lifting my chin. “I really should be jealous of you.” Her dark eyes roamed my face. “If you weren’t a slave, you’d have the empire at your feet, my dear. They’d bring you blessings from the goddess, Artemis herself.” She seemed to be considering something, which displeased her, and then she released me, focusing on Decima and Alba, who were in a compromising position.
“Oh!” exclaimed Decima.
“Yes, fuck that whore,” encouraged Octavia. “Give her that cock.”
“As you wish, mistress.” Alba thrust the tool deep, kneeling behind the slave.
“Harder! Do it harder!” commanded Octavia.
Decima bore the brunt of the sensual punishment, as the
phallus disappeared inside her, only to be pulled free and thrust again. This event occurred over and over, until the ragged moans of her lust filled the room.
Octavia drank wine and smiled slightly. “Yes. That’s my good whores. Fuck her to hard.” Her gaze rested on me. “I’ll have to think of something special for your deflowerment. Nothing as ordinary as an ivory cock for you, my little dove. I have something very different in mind.”
Chapter Five
The family slept late, although Senator Getha was awake and in his tablinum, which was a private study on the other end of the villa. The room was closed off from the atrium by heavy curtains. I did not serve the master directly, but I passed this part of the house frequently on my way to the kitchen. The deep tones of Senator Getha’s voice boomed in the hallway. The older children, Titus and Caelia, were busy attending to their lessons, taught by a Greek tutor, while little Seneca slept soundly, having been up half the night crying again.
“For a slave, he’s indolent,” said a deep voice, which belonged to the Dominus.
I paused midstep to listen, grateful that I was the only one in the hallway at the moment.
“You must remember that he’s volunteered, sir,” said a softer voice. “He’s sworn the sacramentum. He’s hardly a slave.”
Something loud thumped. “But why must he stir the ire of the soldiers? I can’t afford to bribe everyone in the imperial army!”
“He’ll earn back every cent you’ve spent, master, and more. He’s one of the best secutors I’ve ever seen.”
“Has he been beaten for his insolence?”
“Yes, of course.”
“When will his training commence?”
“It’s already begun. He’s been running and lifting stones since daybreak.”
“Good. Don’t go easy on him. He deserves a hard day for the trouble he’s caused.”
“Yes, Senator Getha.”
“You’re dismissed, Cato.”
I hurried down the hallway to escape being seen, bursting out a side door into the kitchen garden. I wandered down a lane planted with thyme, mint, and basil, all under the shade of a Cyprus tree. Alba strolled towards me down the cobbled path.
“Good morning!” she called cheerily.
I linked my arm through hers. “You’re far too happy.” We passed a carved disk of Dionysus that hung from a stone wall.
“We’re free for a little while. Our mistress still sleeps. I want to show you something. Let’s have a look at our master’s newest acquisition.”
I eyed her dubiously. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve found the perfect place to watch the gladiators. Don’t you want to see Marcus Ahala? Oh, never mind, you’ve already met him.” She smiled slyly.
I elbowed her. “Stop that. He’s a barbarian. They’re all barbarians.”
“Wonderfully muscled and handsome too. You didn’t tell me he was so fine to look at.”
The memory of our kiss produced a surge of heat, darkening my cheeks. “I hardly noticed.”
“That won’t be the case today. We’ll get a good look at this prize of manflesh.”
I giggled at that. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I am, but it’s so much fun. We have to go to the roof.”
“What?”
“It’s this way. Follow me.”
“You’ll get us in trouble.”
“Hardly.”
The villa stood several stories tall, with many exits and entrances. We ascended stairs to a balcony, which belonged to Octavia’s sister, who had been in residence since the death of her husband. Grieving and reclusive, I had hardly seen her. The balcony extended around the side of the structure, meeting up with another roof.
“Here’s where it gets tricky.” Alba stepped on the ledge and pulled herself up, grasping at the overlapping red tiles. “It’s not so bad. Come on.”
“We’re going to kill ourselves.”
“No we won’t. I was just up here.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Maybe,” she giggled.
I followed Alba, praying that I didn’t slide to my death. The roofline led to the next building on the adjoining property. The view was astonishing. The tops of holm-oaks spotted the landscape along with the vistas of other villas. The ludus was small, with accommodations for only twenty gladiators. It encompassed the neighboring acreage; the outbuildings were arranged in a large rectangle, with an oval-shaped arena on the far end. As we neared the other side of the roof, the sounds of shouts and grunting could be heard along with the clash of wood. Alba led me to a small landing, which we had to drop to. We sat on the ledge between the buildings.
“This is my secret spot.” We were near the barracks, which were nothing more than glorified prison cells.
I craned my neck to see who was fighting on the dusty earth of the practice arena. There were groups of men, some wielding blunt, wooden swords, while others toiled with nets and lassos. Several were rehearsing combat techniques. It was easy to find Marcus, because he was taller and broader than the others and his presence was dominating. He stood with his legs apart and his hands on his hips, oozing confidence.
“There he is,” said Alba, pointing to the man dressed in a loincloth and closed sandals. “Isn’t he magnificent?”
Perspiration gleamed from his bare torso, highlighting pectorals that bulged with definition. His stomach rippled with hidden sinew; the outlines of eight distinct sections of muscles were impressive. The trainers, who stepped in periodically to make corrections, shadowed the gladiators. I recognized Cato, who I had overheard speaking with Master Getha just minutes ago. He shouted at the men, and they began to spar, using weighted wood swords. For as bulky as they were, they were surprisingly agile, especially Marcus, who sidestepped several attacks, only to subdue his opponent quickly, the man losing his footing and falling in the dirt. The victorious novicii grinned broadly, satisfaction shining in his eyes. He pressed the blunt tip of the sword to the prone man’s neck.
“Well, that was far too easy for him,” said Alba. “Oh, he’s a smug one. Look at him. He’s practically prancing.”
“He’s hardly a novice.”
“This bodes well. I suspect we’ll finally see the senator’s long postponed munus to his father. The timing’s perfect, considering the elections are nearly upon us.” Alba groaned. “The work that’ll entail.”
“It’s always more work.” Marcus must have sensed he was being watched because he glanced our way. “We’ve been seen!” I exclaimed. Alba’s face brightened, and she waved vigorously. I grasped her arm, mortified. “What are you doing?”
“Showing my support,” she laughed. “This is the most fun I’ve had in weeks.”
“That’s enough. I’m going back. Octavia’s probably awake and wondering where we are.”
“Must you spoil my amusement?”
I glanced over my shoulder at Marcus, who continued to stare at us. A thrill ran through me, knowing that I had tasted his lips. Things might have gone even further, if we hadn’t been interrupted. I paused with one foot on the roof, feeling excited, yet confused by these emotions.
He can see me.
He continued to stare until the lanista’s whip brought him up short, reminding him of his duties. “We should go. We’ll get him in trouble.”
“Farewell, handsome gladiator,” said Alba, although he couldn’t hear her. She grasped the tiles, hauling herself up.
The villa was awash with activity, as slaves labored in the kitchen preparing meals. Our mistress continued to sleep, thereby giving us free time, which we wasted on idle gossip.
“And you didn’t bring me?” asked Decima, feigning anger. “You’re hardly my friends. I’m disappointed in you both. Next time you better take me. I love a gladiator as much as the next woman.”
A male figure appeared in the doorway. It was Master Getha’s son Titus, which was an unexpected surprise. He was supposed to be with his Greek tutor. We jumped to our feet, bowing our hea
ds.
“Master Titus,” we uttered.
He was dressed in a white tunic with a crimson border and sandals. His expression was eager, yet restrained, as if he were about to misbehave. We were in our bedchamber, and he flung the door closed behind him.
Being the oldest and more mature, Alba addressed the youth. “How may we help you, Master Titus?”
“I’ve come…I’ve come to watch you undress.” His voice quivered.
Decima’s expression revealed shock, while I suppressed a laugh.
Alba’s hands went to her hips. “You wish to watch us undress?”
“Yes. Now, be good slaves, and do as I ask.”
“My goodness. This is a highly unusual request. Shouldn’t you be in your lessons?”
“Are you questioning my authority?” His determined look was laced with lustful eagerness.
“Of course not. If you require that we undress for you, then we shall.” Alba untied her belt, letting it drop. Then she grasped her tunic, lifting it over her head. She was naked save for the subligaria, which hid her loins. “Is this what you had in mind, Master Titus?”
“Y-yes it is. Take everything off.” He pointed at us. “You too. I want you all naked.”
Chapter Six
The three of us were forced to comply with the younger master’s wishes, although only Alba seemed at ease with the predicament we found ourselves in. Octavia was due to wake any moment, and her son wanted to play games, thereby ruining whatever free time we had.
His eyes lingered on me, specifically my breasts. “They’re quite big,” said Alba. “Don’t you want to touch them?”
I shot her an unhappy look. What are you doing, you little wench?
She smiled brightly. “They’re lovely, aren’t they?”
Titus cleared his throat. “Yes, indeed.”
“Let him touch you, Floriana.”
Anger pricked me, yet I had no choice but to go to the young master, whose complexion grew redder by the second. His eyes brimmed with enthusiasm and lust, which his inexperience would not let him hide. The front of his tunic jutted with the effects of his erection. He reached out, touching me with trembling hands that shook visibly. I thought I would feel repulsion at being handled so, but his hesitancy and fear were surprisingly endearing.
Conquest of the Gladiator (An Erotic Romance) Page 3