Chapter 11

 

Shame in the streets of Pompeii

 

There was no point in calling after Drusus; they pulled him away too quickly and by the time Caristia had realised what was happening she had been chained by the neck and dragged out of the Temple of Isis. When they hauled her under the high arched entrance of the House of the Gladiators her sweating, naked body was covered in dust and grime. She was thrown down on the sandy ground and, as she looked up through dirt-encrusted eyes, she saw the muscular legs of Sparton standing before her.

She stared upwards, following the tight bindings of leather that encircled his calves and knees, then up the bronzed thickness of his thighs until, finally, she saw the tight material that enveloped his heavy genitals and finished pulled up high onto his waist. He held out his foot it in front of her face. 'Kiss it before you rise, slave,' he said arrogantly.

Caristia flicked out her tongue and ran its tip along the top of his foot. She inhaled the strong scent of leather that rose from his dusty sandals. Her tongue dried as she licked his skin and he kicked her away impatiently.

'Do not be too rough with her Sparton,' said Arria Sulla. 'We do not want to diminish her charms.' She straddled Caristia, putting one foot either side of her naked waist, then bending and circling her fingers around Caristia's buttocks. 'Rather, I think, something which warms this beautiful bottom will both punish and prepare her better for what is in store.'

Caristia crawled back towards Sparton's foot, eager to please him, frightened by the surroundings and the menace in Arria Sulla's words.

'She is a pretty thing, madam. Too pretty for the ring, I fancy.' Caristia ran her tongue along the tops of his bare toes, tasting the salt between them and picking up the dust onto her lips. 'And, I think, too eager to satisfy her own pleasures.' He cocked his head to the side, smiled at the gladiators who stood around, and spoke mockingly. 'Look, she has not stood up. Already she forgets the instructions of her new master. Madam, this grovelling slave certainly needs discipline.'

He reached down, encircled her waist with his muscular forearm then lifted her off the ground, forcing her head and shoulders between his legs while lifting her bottom until level with his navel. Surprised and disorientated, she kicked her legs frantically in all directions but Sparton only laughed. She reached out for the ground, hoping to steady herself, but as her fingers touched it Sparton began walking around the enclosure, strutting in front of the gladiators assembled there, showing them his captive, eager to amuse them. Caristia squirmed frantically but his grip did not ease and her writhing only increased the entertainment. She was filled with a deep sense of humiliation.

'You see,' Sparton pronounced to the gladiators, 'our new gladiator cries out for a lesson in discipline. And of course our Lady Sulla is right; reddening her buttocks will bring her to heel.'

The gladiators laughed, one of them stepped forward and smacked Caristia's bottom. She tightened as his hand landed; it was hard and the surface of his palm was leathery and rough. He smacked her again and she cried out. Sparton tightened his grip and carried her around the ring, her naked sex exposed between the cheeks of her bottom, until another gladiator stepped forward. He was small but heavily built and he licked his hand before swinging it down onto Caristia's wriggling, upturned buttocks. There was a loud wet smack as it landed and again Caristia tensed in Sparton's vicelike grip. She threw out her legs and kicked, but it did not stop her being offered again, and when she was smacked a third time, and kicked even harder than before, it only increased the men's amusement and made them more keen to continue.

When they had all taken a turn Sparton carried her to the centre of the enclosure, bent down on one knee and laid her across it. He held her down easily, wedging his left elbow between her shoulder blades and pressing the outspread fingers of his hand into the dipping curve of the small of her back. She still kicked with undiminished energy, and as she flailed her legs the sunlight caught a glint of moisture between her thighs. Sparton smoothed his right hand across her reddened bottom then reached to the heavy leather belt that hung from his waist. He removed a short sword from a leather scabbard then pulled the scabbard itself from the metal clip that held it. It was almost the width of his hand and about the length of his forearm, made from carefully worked brown leather, sewn along its length both front and rear with a raised cross-stitch of leather lacing. He held it by the pointed tip, wrapping his large fingers around it and grasping it tightly. He flexed it and it bent only slightly, then he rubbed it against Caristia's buttocks in slow circling movements.

She responded instantly to its touch, its worn smoothness, its flatness, its potential. She stopped kicking, for a moment enthralled by the contact with the scabbard. Then, when it was removed, she waited spellbound, knowing what would happen, tensing in readiness, breathing in time with the potential contained in the nothingness that engulfed her.

Her orgasm began with the first spank. The flatness of the leather scabbard, the smooth contact, the width of its face and the slapping sound of its kiss, energized her body with an overflow of pleasure. As each slap landed on her taut skin, as each smack filled her ears she anticipated the next. As soon as the fire from one strike penetrated her body she desired the promise of what would follow. And, as each slap covered her bottom, the flesh of her cunt swelled more, moistened more, and this nectar, this sweet fuel stoked the fires of her orgasm. She relaxed less after each convulsive tightening of her body and, in the end, while the leather scabbard still fell with punishing blows, she was gripped by an overpowering, convulsive paroxysm. She tightened her buttocks together, increasing the redness that covered them, squeezing the swollen flesh of her cunt, driving the pain of pleasure throughout her body until it was, with jerking shudders, released. But it did not end, and as he continued spanking her, disciplining her, training her, each fresh blow released in her a new shiver of ecstasy and a fresh craving for more pain. Finally, still shaking with bliss and still lifting her buttocks to the cruel scabbard, she was dropped from his knee to the dusty ground.

As Caristia wiped the dust from her eyes the gladiators moved back and Bec was driven into the enclosure. She was blindfolded and her body was laced with chains. Her legs and arms were bare and she had been dressed in a tight-fitting black leather costume, pulled up high onto her hips and buckled on her shoulders. Holes were cut out for her breasts and they thrust prominently. The chains encircled her upper thighs, pulled between her legs, around her waist and between her breasts until they finished, padlocked at her neck. Her arms were tied behind her back and her forearms, bent at right angles, were chained together so that each hand touched the other elbow. She turned her head, as if looking around, and spat, strands of her black hair caught in her mouth. She kicked at the ground with her bare feet like a bull and the sun glinted on her toenails, painted a glossy red.

'Chain the little one as well!' shouted Sparton.

Men rushed forward and began lacing Caristia's naked body with heavy chain. Bec turned to the noise and ran over blindly. Several gladiators intercepted her but they struggled to bring to her to the ground and when, finally, they got her down another had to join them to help keep her under control. Caristia trembled at the sight of her enemy and felt weakened by her very presence. As the chains were bound around her the weight made her feel helpless and limp and she struggled to walk as they were both driven out of the arched gate and into the road outside.

Caristia and Bec emerged to the roar of the crowd which had gathered especially to see them. Bec twisted her shoulders from side to side, rattling the chains that bound her and making those nearest to her back away in fear. Caristia hung her head, ashamed to be seen like this, chained and naked and shaking with fear at what was going to happen. Men pushed around her, touching her hair, pulling it and making her cry out. Some of them felt her breasts and as many as could get close enough thrust their hands between her legs and felt the soft flesh of her slit. Some even managed to push their fingers between the velvety labia and penetrate the moist interior of her vagina.

As they were driven forward by large Nubians with whips men jeered at them, exposing themselves and lewdly pulling their cocks. One held his in front of Caristia's face when she fell to the ground, and pulling it frantically, sprayed his semen onto her parched lips. She licked at it and drew it into her mouth, enjoying its taste as though it made her forget the humiliation of being driven through the streets like a captive animal. Someone started spanking her buttocks to encourage her to get up. For a moment she felt peaceful as the hand smacked her, but as the crowd roared louder she knew it was an instruction to get to her feet rather than a delightful punishment for some disobedience or wrongdoing. Another hand joined the first, smacking her buttocks in unison, so she crawled to her feet and started again to struggle along the road.

They were both taunted all the way, Bec turning blindly to each poke or jeer and Caristia flinching and turning away from every mocking insult, keeping her eyes fixed firmly to the ground. They passed Rufo's house, and outside a brothel the owner rushed down and offered the guards escorting them a heavy wooden yoke with three holes, a large one in the centre and two smaller ones to the sides. The Nubians took it eagerly and made Caristia kneel down and have it fitted. They released her hands and pushed her head and hands through the holes before chaining her wrists again and leading the free ends to the iron collar around her neck. It was so heavy she had to be helped to her feet, and when she stood she could not hold herself upright and she swayed, bent slightly forward with her tangled blonde hair framing her plaintive face.

When they crossed the road which led to the Temple of Isis the procession stopped. Bec's chains were fed through an iron ring in the wall and she was pulled up tight against it. Her legs were manacled and the manacles were secured to a stake. She could hardly move, and although she struggled against her bonds, men now approached her without fear. They rubbed their cocks against her breasts and ejaculated wherever they wanted. One of them held his cock between the tops of her thighs as he finished, but as his semen was running down the insides of her legs she managed to pull one of the stakes free and clamped her legs together, trapping him and making him scream. It took six of them to free him. When they had secured the stake again the man insisted that she be punished, so they turned her around and bent her forward over a counter where drinks were sold. Her face was forced into one of the deep recesses where containers of oil were usually kept, and choking and gasping she was first whipped across the back with a short riding crop, before a leather flail, split into two separate strands, was laid across her bottom.

Caristia flinched each time the two thin strips of leather bit into Bec's muscular buttocks. They laced her skin with red stripes, some going down as far as the backs of her knees and others as high as the small of her back. Each time they landed Bec tightened her body but her response was as much a way of showing she could resist the pain as it was a reaction to the pain itself. Each man took a turn, but they could not make her shriek or cry out and, in the end, they tired of her and turned their attentions to Caristia.

She struggled against them as they hauled her onto the counter alongside Bec, and she cried out as, still with the yoke securing her head and hands, they tied her down against the cold marble top. She begged them to let her go but her pleas for mercy and weak attempts at escape did nothing to stop them doing as they wished. The split leather lashed down across her buttocks and she yelled out pitifully. Her cries delighted the men and they pushed at each other to take their turn. The slapping sound filled her ears as, with each blow, the split leather smacked her twice in quick succession. The first pain, from the leading flail, filled her and the second, following close behind, drove her to overflowing. The sense of captivity and the deep humiliation of public exposure saturated her with anxiety, but each time the first smack smarted her stinging bottom, each time the second stung her more than she could ever imagine, she could do nothing but lift her bottom to meet it. The pain was like a magnet, drawing her towards it, causing her to raise her buttocks and open them and expose her slit. She flinched and gasped but still she lifted herself higher and made her flesh more available. The pain was ecstasy and she opened herself as much as possible, exposing herself to more.

She rode the flailing strap, rising like a tide against its flow of pain and dipping only to recover enough tension to meet it again, pushing herself against each blow, lifting herself as it drew away. She gripped her hands into fists as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her like a flooding river of ecstasy. She dropped forward when they had finished with her, her elbows dipping below the yoke, her head hanging loosely through the hole at its centre. She was depleted, exhausted, finished as she hung there, gasping for air.

She did not know whether her orgasms were still gripping her or whether she was jerking with pain when they lifted her away from the counter and again set her to march along the cobbled street. She licked her lips and focused her bleary eyes. She stumbled against Bec, who turned and spat viciously at her like a startled snake. Bec kept turning her head from side to side, listening, trying to locate her prey, and as Caristia swung away and ducked another glob of spit, she saw the bare rage that lurked within her animal-like opponent.

As they passed below the balcony of the Happy Phoenix, pots of wine were emptied down onto them and men and women rushed up and licked it from them. Caristia tasted the red wine on her lips as it ran down her face, over her breasts and down between her legs. She felt its warmth against the flesh of her sex, which as well as her humiliating exposure to the crowd, caused her own moisture to flow. She gasped as a young woman knelt in front of her and clutched the backs of her thighs so she could squeeze her face tightly between her thighs. The woman probed her tongue against the warm, wine-soaked sex lips and lapped eagerly, running the tip along the wet valley, peeling the lips apart and delving into the exposed warmth of hidden flesh. Two men took hold of the yoke and lifted so that the young woman could press her tongue deeper. Caristia hung there, suspended by her wrists and neck as the female lifted Caristia's legs and draped them over her shoulders so she was exposed fully for her relish.

Caristia rose and fell with the lapping tongue, urging it deeper, moving sideways first so that it ran smoothly along the soft edges then dropping down to enjoy the penetration as its tip squirmed inside her. She lifted her head in rapture as her clitoris swelled against the licking tongue and her joy, together with the heat of contact, made it throb and enlarge even more until it pressed like a pulsating bud against the source of its pleasure. The men holding the yoke lowered it, bending her so that her buttocks were lifted, then still with the young woman moaning and slurping between her thighs, another woman started spanking her with a leather strop.

The blows were heavy and the strap lashed around Caristia's hips, but the pain coupled with the delving tongue caused her to yell out loud in a fit of ecstasy. She screamed each time the strap landed, each time she felt it burning her skin, reddening her and lacing her with pain. But it was not a response to her suffering; it was a scream of passion, of submission to her own unbridled gratification. More wine was thrown over her and it ran through her hair, down her back and cooled her bottom. The slapping of the strop was louder against her wet skin and the slurping of the woman's tongue was more pronounced, and when Caristia was doused again she howled as her orgasm ripped through her body in an eruption of bliss.

The Nubian guards came into the crowd and pushed the women away. They drove the two captives on, Caristia trudging under the weight of the yoke, dripping with red wine and jerking with the last twitches of her ecstasy. Bec still spitting and blindly lurching at anything she heard.

They were forced into a low tunnel that entered the side of the Amphitheatre and made to wait, kneeling on the sandy ground, behind a heavy grill that led onto the arena. Caristia stared through it and saw her mistress in a ringside box almost within touching distance.

Arria Sulla pulled herself eagerly to the front of the box. Fronto sat beside her, and dressed in a long robe and untethered, Innocenti sat by his side. When Caristia saw her she felt a wave of nerves rise in her stomach as an anxious concern flowed through her. But Innocenti's pale skin looked radiant and her dark eyes flashed in the flickering light of the torches that surrounded the arena. Her hair had been done up in pigtails and the tied ends were bent vertically like small horns. She looked youthfully elegant and at ease, and she punched Fronto playfully in the arm as he played with one of her pigtails. Caristia screwed up her eyes, unsure of what she was seeing, confused by the sight of the delicate slavegirl apparently at ease in the company of her master and mistress. She looked away, and in a smaller box on the opposite side of the arena Rufo sat, with Magnus standing behind him. Rufo nodded to Fronto, and when he did not get an acknowledgment he stroked his hair back as though his nod had been caused by a fallen curl.

Half naked male slaves brought in heavy boards and began erecting two adjoining corrals. They built up the boards to just above head height, then strung a wire mesh netting across the tops before drawing a long flat board across each enclosure to act as a walkway. Other men, all naked, ran around the edges lighting torches and propping them up high on lances. Above each of the corrals a heavy bell was suspended from a rope drawn down from a timber jib, itself part of the partial roofing system of the high-sided Amphitheatre. Several large X-shaped crucifixes were dragged in and propped into readymade holes in the ground. Caristia's stomach churned with fear as she saw them.

'Very well, madam,' said Fronto, edging himself to the front of the box and patting his thigh for Innocenti to move closer to him. 'Let us be clear about the "special" rules you have promised. Although, I have to say, the rules of gladiatorial combat are usually straightforward and I cannot imagine what you have in mind.'

Arria Sulla smiled and leant over to him.

'You did promise to accept my rules, did you not?'

'Yes madam. State them so we may proceed.'

'Very well. It is easy, my dear Lucretius Fronto. Each of our contestants will be put into one of the enclosures that have been erected to my special instructions. Then,' she smiled, pausing long enough to detect Fronto's impatience, 'then, each enclosure will be filled with men I have chosen especially for their sexual prowess. Each of our gladiators must remain in the enclosure and satisfy all the men. If either one of them tries to escape by seeking sanctuary outside the enclosure, or cannot continue to satisfy their lovers' demands, then she will be the loser. Either an exhausted contestant will climb up and ring the bell as a sign of her defeat, or the bell will be tolled by a dissatisfied paramour. Whichever is the case, at the toll of the bell we will know the loser and we will applaud our victor.'

Fronto scowled, and for a moment pursed his lips as he prepared to challenge Arria Sulla's rules for the contest, then tossing his head back nonchalantly he succumbed to good humour and smiled broadly.

'It is agreed! A marvellous idea!' he shouted. 'Madam, you have a talent for the exciting. Now, we need an enthusiastic crowd. Let us warm up their appetite.' He waved to the Nubians who guarded the entrance gate. 'Bring on the entertainment so that when our gladiators enter the ring they will be given a hearty welcome.'

A fanfare sounded and Caristia watched from behind the grill as Minimus and his troop bounded into the arena. The crowd cheered as the agile dwarf ran around the edges of the barriers which kept the crowd back, exposing his huge cock and letting any women close enough feel it or even suck it. A huddled group of freshly imported slave women were driven in by black slaves with spears. They shrank back as the crowd shouted and taunted them. Two were pulled free of the cowering group and tied onto the X-shaped crosses fixed into the ground. Their mouths were gagged and they were whipped. Their breasts became quickly marked with jagged red lines, then as they began to slump under the strain of their painful punishment they were turned around and men from the crowd came down and took turns spanking them. The women wailed in agony and the men competed with each other to see who could make their victims cry out the loudest. The men's laughter and the women's cries mixed together with the cheers of the crowd in a hellish chaos of anguish and pleasure.

The women were untied and turned upside down on the crosses. They were spanked again but the men could not resist and most of them plunged fingers between the slaves' legs or thrust their faces against them. One of the women huddling by the entrance tunnel was spread-eagled and tied to a cart wheel with heavy rope. Her naked body was doused in oil and then the wheel was bowled from one side of the arena to the other. The crowd threw down food at her as she spun across the arena and, when the wheel toppled, several men leapt down and plunged their cocks one after the other into her sex and mouth. As the crowd roared the woman was released, tied to ropes by the heels, then dragged through the dusty arena by two Nubian slaves. She was hauled up by her ankles on the end of a long pole and the two Nubians stretched the pole out over the crowd and passed the woman over their heads. They struggled to keep the pole in the air as men in the crowd lurched at the woman, grabbing her hair and trying to reach her breasts. Two women climbed down into the arena and tore at their own clothes until only tattered rags hung about their waists. They started wrestling each other, rolling in the dust as they clawed at the final remnants of clothing and pulled at each other's hair. Nubian slaves were sent to separate and drag them away, but even as they were pulled out through the exit tunnel they continued to fight and claw at each other in an uncontrollable frenzy. As they were driven into a large cage at the rear of the tunnel they clasped their legs around the Nubians' hips and forced themselves down onto their hard cocks.

Slaves attached a collar first to Caristia's neck, then to Bec's. Two lines of girls, naked except for coronets of white flowers in their hair, lined up in front of them. Other slaves clipped a rope into each of the collars and then the ropes were pulled out and draped over the shoulders of the two lines of waiting girls. The girls pulled and both women fell forward, Caristia because she was struggling to carry the weight of the heavy yoke, and Bec because she could not see. Another fanfare was sounded, the grill that separated Caristia and Bec from the arena was lifted, and the two were hauled in.

Slaves with whips drove them from behind, and slowly they were positioned in front of the boards which led across the separate enclosures from which the metal nets had now been peeled back. The yoke was removed from Caristia and she was lifted up onto the board by the Nubians. Other slaves pushed her forward, and unable to resist them she walked along the board nervously, then just as she reached the centre they tipped it and she fell into the enclosure. They swept the netting across quickly, trapping her inside, and she clawed up at it like a captured animal. They then used poles with rings to hold Bec by the neck and guide her up onto the boards, then keeping her balanced in the centre, one of them climbed up and released her chains. As soon as she was free of her bonds they let go of the poles and tipped her into the enclosure too. She fell on her back, and still with the poles extending from her neck she ripped the blindfold from her eyes. She looked around savagely as the netting was drawn quickly over the top of the enclosure, and frustrated by her captivity she began running against the boards that surrounded her, charging and crashing into them noisily with her shoulders.

Arria Sulla signalled to the Nubians at the entrance tunnel and they opened the gates to two large cages drawn by six horses. Each cage was filled with men. Some were covered in animal skins and roared and clawed as if they were themselves animals. Some were dressed as warriors and carried spears or swords, some wore masks and black leather tunics and wielded whips, and others were black naked savages with huge headdresses and rings in their noses. The crowd howled its approval as the cages were paraded around the arena, until finally they were drawn up alongside the enclosures that imprisoned Caristia and Bec. Nubians clambered on top of the cages and stood ready to lift the doors and temporarily remove some of the boards that would release the men into the two enclosures - the masked men in leather tunics and those in animal skins into Caristia's, and the warriors and naked savages into Bec's.

Fronto stood up and held his arms high. The crowd roared, then knowing their pleasure awaited a signal from one of the patrician class, they quietened until there was not a sound.

'Now,' said Fronto triumphantly, 'on this twenty-fourth day of the month of Augustus, let this special contest begin!'