by Syra Bond
He lifted her chin in his hand, then without further warning he clasped the top of her head and thrust it onto his stiff cock. Water burst around her ears as she fought to keep from overbalancing. She opened her mouth, and with his hands still on her head he directed her face towards it. She took his cock in and immediately felt it swelling against the insides of her cheeks as she sucked as conscientiously as she could. Severus pressed her onto it, thrusting its tip in deeper as, doing as he ordered, she ran her tongue along its underside, feeling the sensitive skin that covered it, licking the raised veins that pulsated along its length. She felt it touch the back of her throat. She pulled back but his hands held her. She did not hesitate and took his cock to the back of her throat. She felt the throbbing glans pressing against it; pulsating, filling, plugging. She licked it and sucked it and felt its length beating with his orgasm.
She threw her head back. Her wet hair fell behind her in thick long strands and her bright blue eyes, barely open, sparkled in the luminous flashes that came off the turbulent water. She looked faint and hopeless, then instead of waiting to be forced back she opened her eyes wide, tipped herself forward and fixed her mouth around his throbbing stem. She knew her bottom was above the surface of the water, she could feel the air against it, then she felt his smacking hand and, with a sudden eager gulp, his cock was into the back of her throat. She held it there and with each wet spank that fell on her upturned bottom she took it deeper, allowing it to swell so much it would not move. Then as his semen surged up its length, she let it spray into her swallowing throat. She drew it all out, drinking his essence as he continued to spank her in a confusion of water and bubbles.
But the spanking did not end. She had barely drawn a breath, and with his semen running down her throat, he forced her onto it again. His wet hand slapped her buttocks, pale and blue in the cold water, but mottled red where his palm had fallen. He gripped her with his arm folded around her waist, smacking her ten times before he released her for relief. Her head was filled with the noise of the water and the laughter of the men who had gathered around. Again he spanked her but this time she did not wriggle as much; this time she bent herself more willingly, stretching her arms around his hips, allowing her bottom to rise to his hand. When again he released her she did not pull back, but waited until he resumed her punishment.
She knew others were spanking her; she could feel the different weights, the different sizes of their hands, the different degrees of delightful pain they brought. The skin of her bottom was so tight and the cold water put out the flames of their spanking hands so quickly that there seemed no limit to the amount of punishment she could take. She revelled in the pain of each stroke, savouring the stinging as it mixed with the pleasure she drew from the semen that ran down her throat.
The others dragged her out, rolled her onto her back and took it in turns to fuck her. They put her onto all fours and took her from behind, sometimes making her suck another as they smacked her bottom at the same time as they finished. When they had all done with her they threw her into the pool, where she floated on her back until some slavegirls pulled her out.
She lay on the side, panting, gasping, and still shuddering from the finally easing of her orgasms. She looked around bleary-eyed and saw Fronto lying back on a marble chair, a girl lying across his knee while he rubbed her reddened bottom lazily with one hand and drank from a goblet he held in the other. He must have been there all the time. Arria Sulla pulled Innocenti's lead and marched over to him. He looked up, smiled and pushed the girl casually from his knee, sending her rolling onto the floor.
'Arria Sulla,' he said, getting up and looking first at the trembling Innocenti, and then across to Caristia, 'surely you have not come to do business.'
'I do not know what you mean sir,' she said, looking away from him and staring at Caristia.
'Well, I see you here, attended by your two little treasures, and I can only think that you have brought them to bargain with.'
'You have nothing that would interest me, Lucretius Fronto,' she said disdainfully.
'I think you are testing me with a joke, madam, but I will humour you. Come, I will show you what does not interest you.'
Arria Sulla bent down to Caristia and helped her to her feet. Caristia felt warmed by her mistress's patronage and stood up beside her. Fronto led the way into the open gymnasium at the rear. It was enclosed by a high wall and colonnaded on three sides with vertically ribbed, marble pillars. In the centre was Bec, wearing only a narrow leather thong pulled up tightly between her legs. Its thin gusset parted her sex, forcing the flesh of her labia to each side of the taut leather. She was restrained by two Nubians, each with a long pole with a ring at the end, one around her neck and the other around her waist. They struggled to hold her, and when she saw Caristia she grabbed the pole which led from her neck, twisted it and threw the Nubian holding it to the floor. Arria Sulla laughed loudly.
'I see your problem sir. Do you wish to borrow my male slaves to hold onto your little prize, or perhaps my two attendants would do better?'
She held her hand out towards Caristia and Innocenti. Fronto scowled. The Nubian struggled to his feet and pushed at the pole, keeping Bec at a distance but unable to restrain her violence.
'Madam, you are mistaken and your mocking tone is misplaced. I have had the tigress trained especially so that no one will be able to face her in the ring. That her guards cannot control her only tells me that her training has been a success. I do not think your little slaves should even be close to her, especially the one you call Caristia. See how my gladiator spits and snarls when she sees her. I think you should send her out of the gymnasium in case she is attacked.' He laughed, then walked up to Caristia and drove his hand between her naked thighs. The fierceness of his touch caused her to swallow hard. 'Yes, by the feel of her wet flesh, I think this little one is better suited to more moderate sports.'
Arria Sulla's annoyance was obvious. She screwed up her eyes and fixed Fronto with a piercing glare.
'I fear you are no judge of what it takes to survive in the ring, sir. I think my own little warrior would easily claim victory if you only had courage enough to allow the match.'
Fronto's eyes widened in amazement.
'Do I understand you correctly, madam? You are proposing a match between my fiery tigress and your fragile little slave?'
'Yes sir, I am.'
'Then madam, I accept.'
Chapter 10
A failed escape
The details of the contest had been agreed - it would be on 24 August in the Amphitheatre and, like many contests involving women, it would be held at night by the light of torches and braziers. Arria Sulla said the final 'special' rules would be announced on the day, and although Fronto was curious he was not concerned. A few days before the set date, Arria Sulla decided to take Caristia to the Temple of Isis so that the priests could bless her, as she did not want to run the risk that her contestant would be, in any way, under prepared.
Arria Sulla led Caristia into the small enclosed courtyard of the torch-lit temple. The priests stood huddled around the altar with the crowd of worshippers silently crammed together around them. Caristia squinted to see in the shimmering red hues cast by the burning torches, and saw something hanging above the altar. As they got closer she saw it was a young woman crouched in a small cage made from shiny metal bars. It was barely big enough for her to get into and her knees where thrust up beneath her chin. Her eyes were covered with a tight bound mask which extended down over her mouth, leaving only a hole around her nostrils. Her wrists were secured by silver manacles and her ankles chained so tightly that even if she was free she would not have been able to move them at all. The cage swung slowly on a plaid rope and, as it was caught by the red light of the torches, Caristia saw the angry red stripes that covered the girl's naked bottom.
The priests moved back as Arria Sulla approached. Innocenti was lying at their feet. She too was bound, her wrists tied behind her back
with leather thongs and her ankles and knees bound with thin rope. She lay on her side, her knees slightly bent and her head craned back. Her hair had been plaited in two pigtails, each turned back on themselves and tied up with thin red cords, the looped ends sticking out slightly and at the same level as the lobes of her ears. She looked frail and elfin, abandoned and pitiful. Her dark eyes flickered as she caught sight of Arria Sulla. She opened her mouth slightly and licked out her tongue as if she had been waiting only for this moment, as if she had been trained to respond like this only to the approaching footsteps of her mistress. Arria Sulla stretched her foot out towards the captive girl and Innocenti licked it, slowly and with earnest passion, running the tip of her tongue upwards from between her mistress's toes to her slender ankle, and then back again.
'Good,' said Arria Sulla, smiling as she stretched out the other foot for Innocenti to lick. 'Good. Now, secure her; I have another who needs your attention.' Arria Sulla's two Nubian's lifted Innocenti away, but as they pulled her over to the temple entrance she kept her tongue against her mistress's foot for as long as she could. The Nubians held her while girls untied her wrists and secured them in front of her with leather thongs, pulling them as tight as they could, making her wince. They fixed a round wooden bar across her mouth and bound it securely behind her head. They left the thongs around her knees and ankles but checked they were tight. The Nubians lifted her up to a metal bar fixed between the main colonnades of the entrance and dropped the bindings at her wrists over a large hook attached to it. They left her hanging there, her feet clear of the ground, desperate and alone. Her body stretched under its own weight, accentuating her slender lines, her flat stomach and her narrow hips. Her breasts were flattened against her chest and the arch of her lower ribs tightened against her smooth skin. Caristia saw tears in the corners of her eyes as she bit into the wooden bar wedged firmly between her teeth.
The tallest of the priests stepped forward.
'Madam Sulla, state your request. The order of our lady Isis is at your service.'
'I want this slave blessed. She is to enter the ring and I want her to be guarded by Isis herself. You must make sure Queen Isis will be watching over her so she can secure victory for me.'
The priest looked at Caristia and smiled as, into the red glow of the torchlight, Fronto appeared with Drusus in attendance.
'Madam!' exclaimed Fronto as he bowed low with a flourish. 'I catch you at your prayers. You are indeed a devout follower of our Queen Isis. Come, we will worship together. Perhaps I can say a prayer for your little slave.'
'Yes, and I can say one for yours,' she responded curtly.
'Madam, you are too kind,' he mocked, taking her arm and leading her towards the altar. 'Look,' he said pointing to the girl trapped in the small cage high above their heads. 'Another one seeking a blessing. I hope your simple pleas work for your little gladiator. They will indeed need to bring about a miracle.'
'I think some prayers will suffice, sir. I do not demand miracles, nor do I need them.'
'Madam, you are so gentle to those that live only to obey you. But may I ask, has your kindness worked with your other little slave?' He poked Innocenti with a silver embossed cane. 'It would seem not, or presumably I would not find her like this.'
Arria Sulla scowled at Innocenti hanging on the iron bar with the wooden stave in her mouth. 'Priest,' she said, hardly able to contain her annoyance with Fronto. 'Priest!' She pointed at the girl in the cage. 'Would this be a proper blessing for my slave?'
'Yes indeed. It would madam.'
'Then arrange it!' she said, glancing sideways to make sure Fronto was watching. 'Caristia! Stand over there and wait. At attention!'
Caristia stepped aside and stood with her hands by her sides as some of the worshippers began lowering the cage. Men pressed around her, touching her, feeling her breasts and slipping their fingers between her thighs. She stood as still as possible, not allowing their pinching fingers to distract from her instructions, but their probing made it almost impossible. She screwed up her eyes, trying to concentrate. Suddenly she felt the warmth of someone's mouth against the side of her face, then she heard softly spoken words in her ear. It was Drusus. 'My sweet, sweet Caristia,' he said softly. 'I cannot bear to see you suffering like this.'
Just the sound of his voice set her heart racing. She stiffened her arms by her sides, afraid in case Arria Sulla would see her quaking with excitement. 'Drusus,' she whispered, hardly opening her mouth, 'is that really you?'
'My sweet,' he replied, pressing his lips against her cheek. 'I must be quick. I do not know how long my master will stay. He is obsessed with his new possession. Bec, she is called, a vicious gladiator who no one can control. Everyone fears her. I feel pity for whoever she faces in the ring.'
Caristia bit her lip, frightened by his words, as if suddenly a fresh certainty had been added to her existing fear.
'It is me,' she said with a trembling voice. 'I am to face this tigress.'
Drusus looked at her blankly, stunned.
'This cannot be true,' he said falteringly. 'You are not a gladiator. You cannot be matched with this animal they say is from hell. Sweet Caristia, tell me this is not true.'
'But it is, my sweet,' she said, still standing to attention and looking forward obediently. 'The date has been arranged. We will meet at night by torchlight in the Amphitheatre. I fear I will die. How can it be otherwise? You have just told me my opponent is indomitable.'
'Then...' he hesitated as Arria Sulla's slaves approached. Caristia pushed her hands down stiffly by her sides, hoping her mistress had not seen her talking. 'Then,' he said, starting to speak quickly, 'we must find a way to be together. Caristia, we must...'
Before he could say any more the Nubians yanked him away, throwing him down and kicking him viciously. His head rocked to the side as one foot clubbed him squarely on the temple and he curled up in agony as another jabbed into his stomach.
Caristia looked down at him, ignoring the hands that were still pawing her, and tried to smile, but she did not know whether he saw her before she felt herself lifted and carried towards the now empty cage.
The one end was its door and they forced her down onto her knees in front of it. Hands pressed on her back so that her head was level with the top of the opening. The cage, constructed from heavy iron bars, was about knee high, the same width and a little longer in length. Caristia looked into it with fear; she could not believe there was enough room for anyone to get inside. A hand slapped her bottom, it felt almost playful - light, isolated, unmotivated - but when it landed again, and then again, she realised it was filled with painful purpose. She winced as her bottom burned with the harsh contact, then as it got harder she was prodded with something sharp and forced to crawl forward into the iron prison she was bowed before.
Her head dipped beneath the bar that formed the top of the entrance, all the time her bottom feeling the spanking that came in strong, rhythmic slaps. The spanking and the sharp prodding drove her forward, crawling, her elbows bent, her hands on the floor in front of her face. At the end a middle bar was fashioned into a circle. She knew that was where she must put her head and, before she even thought her knees had gained entry, her head was poking through the hole. The spanking continued, driving her still forward, squeezing her within the bars of the cage, cramming her tightly inside as she was crushed tighter into the confining prison of iron.
With her head through the hole and her shoulders pressed against the bars, the door was pushed together behind her. She felt a bar beneath her bottom pressing against the backs of her thighs as they squeezed the door shut behind her. She sensed her bottom was still exposed, poking out, captive and available to anyone, and she felt her hips pressed against the bars at the sides like an encompassing girdle of iron. She could not turn her head and she strained her eyes sideways to see what was happening: Men gathered around, reached into the cage and pulled her arms back, first leading them out over a central bar at the top o
f the cage, then pushing them back in again so that her weight was thrown onto her neck. They clamped a heavy shackle on each of her wrists and attached them to the bars at the side. She strained her back and lifted her head slightly, but the effort was too great and she dropped back onto the metal circle around her neck.
Caristia saw the shadow of the timber tripod that she'd seen when suffering on the altar. Its gaunt shape frightened her as it was contorted in the torchlight into the shape of a horny talon. The braided rope dangled menacingly from the apex of the tripod and the pulley block swung heavily at its end. When she heard a metallic thud close to her back, and saw the swinging shadow tighten as if it was in pain, she knew what was going to happen. Men leant back and hauled the rope through the pulley and the cage tipped sideways as it was yanked off the ground. Caristia gasped and tightened her eyes as it began to sway. She saw Innocenti still hanging from the metal rail, her eyes wide and her mouth clamped around the wooden bar in her mouth. One of the priests was standing behind her beating her buttocks with a long cane. Innocenti twisted on her bonds and the red stripes the cane was laying on her skin looked like fiery brands in the torchlight. The cage began to spin and Caristia lost sight of the suffering girl, but she imagined her stifled screams locked behind the wooden stave in her mouth.