Chapter Thirteen

 

“I can’t sleep,” Africanus muttered, turning over on her bed.

Fortuna padded softly across the room and climbed beside her. “You’re worried about tomorrow. Don’t be, my love. You will be victorious. The Gods will see to that. Remember to make your devotions to Nemesis and she will favour you.”

Africanus rolled over and laid her thigh over Fortuna. “I’d rather you favoured me with your big cock.”

Fortuna clicked her tongue and smiled. “It seems you just can’t get enough of my weapon.”

They both laughed and hugged each other close. “I’ve fallen in love with you. Can’t you understand that?”

“I knew it from the first time we met, and it may surprise you that the feeling was instantly mutual. Do you want us to fuck each other now?”

The silence and a hand squeezing her breast answered her question, and she got up to go to the cabinet where her personal possessions were stored.

“I have a little surprise for you,” Fortuna beamed, and held up a different implement than the one they had used before.

It was a male cock, beautifully fashioned, long and thick, but both ends were the same, each possessing the head of a penis as if two huge cocks had been joined together at the middle.

“Now lie on your back and open your legs,” Fortuna whispered. “Bend your knees and then prop yourself up on your elbows if you prefer.”

Africanus did her bidding, spreading her legs and bending them. Fortuna slipped her legs under Africanus’ raised knees and shuffled her bottom between the gleaming black thighs. Gingerly, she eased the dildo into her own sex, then positioned the other end at Africanus’ gaping slit. A gentle push of her hips had the dildo going into both sexes at the same time, and Africanus sucked her breath.

“We’re both going to fuck each other with the same cock!” she gasped, as it slipped deeper into her hot tunnel.

Fortuna gave a final shove of her loins and rammed home the dildo until they were both fully penetrated. Then she sat up and held out her arms. Africanus grasped her wrists and, using only their hips and buttocks as levers, they began to rock steadily back and forth, forcing the dildo to ride fuck them both as they bent to and fro like rowers in a heavy swell.

Glorious in their nakedness, sweat now forming on their skin, they rocked harder, admiring their splendid swinging breasts and erect, pulsating nipples, the crease across their bellies which came and went with every thrust. Soon the air was thick with heavy breathing and low throaty moans. Their eyelids grew heavy with longing and they rocked faster, eager to bring each other off. Fortuna wriggled her buttocks harder into the fork of Africanus’ thighs and now their pubic hair and swollen sex lips rubbed and sucked, mingling their already hot, flowing juices. Suddenly, as if on a prearranged signal, both women slammed their hips and thighs together with all the strength they could muster. Their ample breasts shook and quivered at every thrust and pant.

“I’ve never been fucked like this!” Africanus moaned, digging her heels hard into the floor.

“I’m going to make you come like a river,” Fortuna returned, thrusting her strong pelvis.

“I’m going to fuck you sore,” Africanus sobbed, feeling her whole body tingling.

Now riding on a wave of ecstasy, not caring who saw or heard them, both women gave vent to their long pent up feelings.

“I want to suck your tits,” Africanus laughed, looking at Fortuna’s wobbling breasts.

“I’m going to get my tongue so far up your cunt you’ll think I’m swallowing the whole of you.”

“After this, I’m going to beat you ‘til you scream for mercy, you beautiful looking bitch.”

“And I shall lick every inch of your shining black skin, you wonderful whore.”

And so it went on. Loving abuse poured from their mouths as they rode harder and harder, driving each other wild with their manic thrusting and heaving. Under their buttocks a pool of love juice mingled and stuck to their perspiring skin, making their arses slither and slip and their hips more ardent in their massive plunges.

“You smell like a mare in heat,” Fortuna laughed, wrenching at Africanus’ wrists.

The black gladiatrix responded with a sudden jolt of her hips and Fortuna’s lungs inhaled deeply, pushing out her breasts.

Keeping the dildo deep inside them, they bent their backs, leaning so far into each other their lips crushed. They kissed until it hurt, forcing their tongues to the backs of their throats, twisting and turning them until their mouths ached. Then they lost all control; they let go of their wrists and, keeping the dildo lodged tight in their cunts’ began slapping and hitting their breasts and nipples, gnashing their teeth as the globes wobbled and swung from side to side. They slapped and punched their bellies, hips and thighs, then, as the stinging blows increased the pain in their tingling skin they came in a torrent, pouring out their hot, creamy juices. Cries of ecstasy echoed through the subterranean passages and the both collapsed on their backs, panting and gasping, their strength drained, but still the dildo remained deep inside their dripping tunnels.

“Phew,” Africanus breathed, wiping her forearm across her brow. “That was the greatest fuck of my life.”

“It’s not over yet,” Fortuna grinned wickedly. She slithered from Africanus’ thighs and popped the dildo from their sexes. “Now suck,” she whispered, placing the bulbous, juice slicked head into her mouth.

They sucked on the ends of the dildo, drawing it into their mouths, getting closer until their lips almost met, and not stopping until the juice was licked dry. Fortuna reached out and fondled her lover’s breasts, pinching and rolling the throbbing nipples. Africanus placed her hand under Fortuna’s breast and cupped the freckled globe. Their breathing came in frantic gasps as they tumbled into a long, passionate embrace. Their arms and legs went around hips and buttocks, hugging each other close. Desperately their fingers went between their legs, sliding into their soaking tunnels, teasing their clitorises until they both reached their second orgasm. Sweat dripped and ran from their thrashing bodies, writhing and twisting as their arms pumped faster and faster. Africanus’ legs kicked out wide but Fortuna grabbed her thigh and held it rigid. She bent her head, her tongue swept up the long black pillar, licking the sweat from the gleaming skin. Africanus seized her head and held it between her legs.

“Suck my cunt,” she breathed.

Fortuna eased her body round and her eager tongue went straight into her sex, lapping at the oozing juice, almost suffocating between the crushing thighs.

“I’m coming again,” Africanus sobbed, and lifted her bottom high off the bed.

Juice welled from her sex and Fortuna did not stop licking until every drop had been swallowed. They lay exhausted in each other’s arms until daybreak when one of the armourers knocked on their cell door.

“I’m to take the black one to the armoury,” he said, wrinkling his nose at the sex laden air.

The gladiatrices parted and stood up stretching their aching limbs. “Who am I fighting?” Africanus asked casually.

“His name is Circo,” he said flatly.

She looked as if the thunder God had struck her with his own hammer.

“Circo,” she whispered, open mouthed.

“Aye, and to the death. The emperor has commanded it. But I’ll let you into a secret,” he moved into the cell and closed the door, lowering his voice to a harsh whisper. “The emperor has let it be known that after the contest you are to be scrubbed and taken to his palace. Your body will be his to do with as he pleases.”

“Assuming she wins,” Fortuna interrupted.

The armourer shot her a sly glance. “She can’t fail. Circo is to be disabled before the contest. A knife under his right arm will stop him from wielding his sword. Now, after you’ve washed all that cunt juice from your stinking skin, make your way to the armoury and select your weapons. If I were you, I’d go for the trident. One good thrust and he’ll be out of the contest and you’ll be romping in the emperor’s bed.”

And he left slamming the door behind him.

“It’s not fair,” Africanus sobbed, stunned at the news.

After all this time she was to fight Circo, the only man she had ever respected or loved, but he was to be crippled before he even lifted his sword. She sat on the edge of the bed and buried her face in her hands.

“Never mind,” Fortuna consoled. “It’s how things are here.”

Not if I can help it, Africanus thought, and walked slowly to the baths, her mind in turmoil.

 

“Get up,” the slave master grunted, kicking Nydia in the ribs. “You’ve been bought, and be thankful for it, or you’d be back in the arena as beast bait.”

Nydia struggled to her feet from where she had lain all night long, hugging her knees and cursing the day she’d ever set eyes on the House of Olives and its revolting inmates. Naked, her back, bottom and legs still throbbing from Africanus’ whip, she padded softly behind the slave master, wondering what fresh terror awaited.

The slave master showed her into a cell and they were alone. “Your new master has commanded you to take this food to the gladiator, Circo, and also to hand him this note. Do you understand that, you thick little tart?”

She nodded dumbly and lifted a plate of porridge. The note she kept clutched in her hand as she made her way to Circo’s cell.

“You!” he said, eyeing her with undisguised dislike. “The crawling little lizard I caught snooping around the gladiatrices’ cells.”

“I am to give you this,” she whispered, keeping her head bowed.

He snatched the note and read it, his eyes widening in disbelief. “Your master will meet you at the gate to the gladiator’s quarters,” he said softly, crumpling the note in his hand. “Tell him I shall be there as he commands. Move fast, you little shit, and if you so much as breathe a word, I’ll slit your throat.”

She was gone like an arrow from a bow, running along the corridor, hoping her new master would at least give her some clothes to cover her nakedness. Her new master remained in the shadows and told her to go to the gladiatrix and deliver the same command. She hurried off and found Africanus getting out of her bath. No one paid any attention to a naked slave girl sidling up to the black woman and offering to towel her dripping body. She delivered the message in a hushed whisper, keeping her distance in case the gladiatrix flattened her with a smack of her fist. But she just gave her a towel to wrap around her hips.

“You are to come with me,” Africanus said seriously, going to her cell and putting on her tunic.

Fortuna was in her own cell fast asleep and there was no time to wake her or bid farewell.

“Forgive me, my darling,” she whispered, and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

Quickly, Africanus and the slave girl made their way to the gate where Circo was waiting in the shadows. As arranged with the turnkey, the gate was unlocked, and all three made their way silently through the gladiatrices’ barracks and into the street just as the sun rose over the sleeping city. Both Africanus and Circo were itching to hold each other in their arms, but there was no time. They went speedily to the city gate and passed through, going along the Apian Way to a rendezvous far out in the countryside.

 

While the three fugitives fled the city, Octavia was reclining on a couch mentally calculating how much profit she’d made out of Africanus’ successful bout, and how much more there was to be made when she fought again that day. With the patronage of the emperor and now, Octavia was certain; the gladiatrix legally her property, all sorts of possibilities beckoned. For one thing, she was going to be very rich. The emperor would reward her well for the black gladiatrix’ sexual favours and she might even start her own gladiatrix training school which could easily double as a brothel. After all, she had a good idea gained from first hand knowledge how such places operated. She clapped her hands summoning her slave, and stretched out her long, splendid legs.

“You summoned me, mistress,” the slave said from behind her.

Octavia’s blood froze in her veins as the slave’s hand lighted on her shoulder.

“Quintus!” she uttered, her throat suddenly dry.

“Your little plan to have me murdered, or sold into slavery hasn’t quite come off,” he said, moving around the couch. “Before you set out to double cross, always ensure that you yourself are not going to be double crossed into the bargain.”

“That bastard, Plutarc,” she hissed.

Quintus was facing her now and terrifying in his placidity. “In exchange for a couple of nubile slave girls and a few sestertii, he told me everything; all about your activities as a part time whore in the House of Olives, the time you met, the things you discussed and your partiality for rough sex. Well, you are about to get as much rough sex as you want, but first I have a little score of my own to settle, my beautiful, faithless, murderous wife.”

“Please, Quintus, it was all Glaucus’ doing,” she pleaded, inching away from his approaching body. “He put me up to it because he wanted to sponsor the black gladia…Aaagh!”

“Liar!” he shouted, smacking her across the head. “I know all about you and Glaucus. He squealed like a pig when the gladiator put a sword to his throat.”

He grabbed her hair and dragged her across the floor. A slave dutifully arrived with a long length of rope and a whip.

“You like rough sex, well, here’s something for starters.”

The slave knew exactly what to do and went to work with the proficiency of an expert. He threw her over his shoulder and carried her to the nearest column. It was about the right size for her arms to reach all the way around its circumference. He tied her wrists tightly on the other side of the column and then, with a single tear, ripped the robe from her back.

“Oh, please, Quintus don’t flog me,” she pleaded.

“You’re going to be flogged and fucked,” he told her, without any emotion.

The slave parted her ankles and tied them to the base of the pillar. Next, he passed a length of rope around her waist and pulled it so tightly the air gushed from her lungs. Another length of rope went around her thighs and was knotted to her wrists. The final length was passed over her back and when that too was pulled tight her breasts crushed against the marble. Quintus patted her defenceless bottom, teasing and taunting the shapely moons.

“A splendid arse,” he complimented, slapping it a little harder.

Octavia tried to wriggle away from his hand smoothing her cheeks, but the ropes were too tight to allow even the barest of movements. Dimly, she became aware of another figure entering the room. A flickering shadow passed behind her, a peculiar shape, unmistakably feminine with large, heaving breasts, magnificent hips and thighs, and a huge cock rearing from its groin; Leda.

“Beat her until I tell you to stop,” Quintus said calmly. “Then ride her arse.”

Leda picked up the whip and cracked it, her monstrous erection already hard at the prospect of flogging such a beautiful body, and what she could do with it afterwards.

She placed her hand on Octavia’s bottom and smoothed the cheeks. At the very touch of the white, unblemished skin her cock throbbed. She put her finger tips into the crease and pulled the buttocks apart revealing a tight brown hole.

“I think someone else has been here already,” she said astonished.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Quintus said drily. “My wife, it seems, likes her cock.”

Leda wormed her forefinger into Octavia’s anus. “It’s still wet from its last cock fight, but her buttocks are firm, perhaps they need softening before I ride her.”

“Get this creature away from me!” Octavia shrieked, clenching her arse cheeks.

“You were willing enough to have her fuck the slaves for your pleasure. Let’s see how you like that thing up your arse,” he rasped. “Beat the treacherous bitch!”

Leda swung her arm in a wide arc, lashing the whip across the crown of Octavia’s bottom. She gave another swift blow to the left cheek and another on the right, making a perfect X of livid red stripes. Her victim howled like a wolf and writhed her hips against the pillar. Tears were already coursing down her cheeks. It wasn’t so much the pain but the humiliation of being flogged by this strange being, half man and half woman that had her twisting and turning.

Quintus had no sympathy, but urged Leda to finish her work; he had more important matters to deal with.

Leda concentrated on Octavia’s thighs, lashing each one in turn, sending the whip into the crease of thigh and buttock, cutting the ample under hang of each cheek. She whipped the sides of the cheeks until they wobbled and went slack. Olivia gritted her teeth and waited for what was to come. It was true, she liked rough sex, but that was with the man of her choosing and on her own terms, but not roped to a pillar and fucked by this thing.

Leda patted her bottom lovingly. “I think these moons are soft enough,” she observed, dropping the whip.

Her hand encircled her cock, slowly stroking its whole length until it throbbed almost to bursting. Even Quintus gaped at its size. He was in serious doubt as to whether his cheating wife could take a weapon like that, but all the same it would be fun watching. Leda placed the head carefully between the flogged cheeks still twitching from the searing pain. A gentle nudge opened the bottom hole and the head slipped in to the groove.

“Brace yourself,” Leda chortled. “Because I’m going to take you with one push of my hips.”

“Quintus, make her stop!” Octavia shrieked, looking over her shoulder.

He leaned against a pillar and shrugged as if to say, nothing I can do to make her stop.

Leda gathered her strength and gripped Octavia’s hips, took a deep breath and gave her bottom a colossal heave. Her cock rammed in to the hilt and Octavia thought a stallion had penetrated her. Her whole body froze still, and then broke into multiple spasms as Leda began to ride her. Quintus watched fascinated as Leda’s hips and buttocks snaked from side to side, rising and falling, going into a spectacular sexual dance. If she had been a whole woman he would have been sorely tempted to ride her himself with an arse that could move like that.

He stood beside Leda and watched closely as her cock went in and out, driving hard into the anal walls, then suddenly spearing the quaking cheeks. Octavia tried to clench her cheeks, anything to stop the rock hard weapon from grinding into her bottom, but Leda sent a clenched fist thumping into the base of her spine.

“Don’t think you can get away with doing that,” she taunted, and gave another punch into her ribs.

She took her cock right to the very tip, playing it around the aching bottom hole, then just when Octavia thought the revolting creature had finished, it was rammed back in again so hard she heaved with pain. Leda was getting the measure of the woman she was riding and started slapping her thighs and flanks, and a slap from Leda was no light thing. The flat of her hand left its mark with every slap, and the more she slapped the more she enjoyed the sound of flesh on flesh.

“You like rough sex,” she laughed, “then have this!”

Octavia’s body jolted under a blow that went winging into her thigh. It wasn’t an open handed slap but a clenched fist that pounded into her ribs and hips, and at the same time the cock rode her with greater ferocity, twisting and driving hard into her throbbing and punished bottom. Quintus, sensing that Leda would soon climax, seized the whip and gave his lying wife a fast dozen lashes on the side of her buttocks and Leda, aroused at the sight of the whip delivering fresh red welts, erupted into Octavia’s bottom. Her hips shuddered as she pumped her juice into the bottom tunnel, then drew back and breathed a sigh of exhaustion. A slave cut the ropes and Octavia slumped to her knees.

“Use her hair to wipe your cock,” he said, and placed a small bag of coins into her hand.

“Thank you, master,” Leda beamed, and rubbed her juice-running cock through Octavia’s hair.

Quintus couldn’t resist the urge to give his wife a final slap before leaving.

“I just thought I should tell you,” he said, slapping her face, “the ludus has been taken by the creditors and there isn’t a single sestertius left.” He summoned two burly male slaves who rushed forward and grabbed Octavia’s wrists. “I could have you executed for the attempted murder of your husband, but on this occasion I have shown more mercy than you deserve. You have been sold to a lupanar, the House of Scorpions, you know the one.”

Octavia nodded in terror. It was a brothel which catered for the worst sexual perversions imaginable. Only the most desperate whores ventured inside its doors.

“You can work off the price of your bondage,” he continued gleefully. “At my reckoning, if you service twenty men a day, you should have cleared the debt in about six or seven years.”

And tossing the male slaves a coin, he left without looking back.

“Take off your jewelry,” one of the slaves grunted, looking at her disgust.

Even amongst slaves there was a code of honour, particularly to a master who treated them well.

Muttering dark revenge, she handed them her rings and necklace. The slave put them in his tunic as a gift from his master. Leaving her naked, they bundled her into a cart and drove off to the House of Scorpions.

The brothel mistress was there to greet them and ordered her inside.

Men of all shapes and sizes leered at her nakedness, some even dribbling into their wild, unkempt beards at the sight of her swaying breasts.

“Shave the bitch,” the brothel mistress said flatly.

The slaves had Octavia on her back in a second, upending her and throwing her onto a table. The men gathered around her in a circle, staring wild eyed into her open sex. A young brothel slave brought a razor and jug of water.

“Now keep still,” Quintus’ loyal slave warned, “or I might do you a mischief.”

He tested the razor blade and satisfied it would do its work, angled it at the top of her pubic triangle and scraped it hard over her skin.

“You’re hurting me!” she wailed.

“Not as much as if you don’t shut your fat gob,” he smirked, and sent the blade slicing through her curls.

He cut carefully around her sex lips, then to the outer fringes of her bush, going expertly into the join of her thighs until her sex mound was clean and smooth.

“On your belly and spread your legs,” he ordered, rolling her over.

Two willing helpers gripped her ankles and dragged them to the table’s edge. Her head hung over the end and she stared at the grimy floor. But not for long. A hand went under her chin and lifted it, drawing it level with a naked and throbbing cock. The head passed over her lips and she thought she was going to be sick.

“Open your mouth,” the owner of the cock laughed and, using his fingers, forced open her jaws.

She heaved and felt his cock rammed into her throat. Only a few hours ago she was on the verge of wealth and power, now she was being abused by the worst men in creation. The slave wielding the razor passed the blade under her bottom and flicked at the curls close to her arse crease. The ones he couldn’t safely cut were torn free with a pair of small tongs happily supplied by the brothel mistress.

Octavia kept rigid on the table, froze in terror while the cock rode her throat, not daring to move lest the razor slip and slice her buttocks. She swallowed and spat as he came into her mouth, filling it with spunk that tasted bitter and salty.

Before another could take his place, she was hauled upright and dragged to a chair, her chin dripping with his disgusting juices.

“Oh, no! Not my hair!” she shrieked, looking at the slave bringing over a huge pair of scissors, the sort used to trim the manes of horses.

“All my whores have their ‘eads shaved,” the brothel mistress informed. “That way, if they tries to escape, they’re easier to find.”

The slave wasted no time in shearing his former mistress. She’d once had him flogged for fucking one of her girl slaves, now he was going to enjoy humiliating her. He went to work with the fury of a madman, hacking and cutting at the roots, tossing her long tresses over his shoulder, not stopping until only a prickly down covered her scalp.

“Now the razor,” he said joyfully.

Octavia watched through tear filled eyes as his wrist turned the razor over her head, shaving her bald. When he’d finished, he ran the palm of his hand over her head and nodded satisfactorily.

“Anything else, madam?” he mocked, bowing low and laughing.

“You haven’t shaved her arm pits,” the brothel mistress told him sternly.

It was a rule of the house that new and untried slave whores had to be completely shaved. The men gathered around Octavia seized her wrists and held them high above her head. While a pair of hands mauled her breasts, the slave shaved under her arms, cutting in broad sweeps at the fine hair. Then he closely inspected her legs and thighs, but they had been waxed clean. But he did spot a couple of hairs that had escaped the razor just visible between her labia and her thighs and would have shaved them, but changed his mind and bent his head, taking the hairs in his teeth and ripping them free.

“Aaaagh!” she screamed. “That hurt, you clumsy bastard.”

But it didn’t hurt as much as the slap that nearly knocked her head off her shoulders.

“You may beat her,” the brothel mistress offered, sensing his desire for revenge on a former mistress. “Use this.”

Octavia winced at the long, thick leather whip she handed him. “I didn’t mean it,” she cried.

Her apology had no effect and, at his gesture, the men threw her bottom up over the table.

“No more than twenty,” the brothel mistress advised. “She’s going to be busy tonight, bouncing on that fine pair of cushions.”

“She’s going to be busy after you’ve whipped her,” one of the men grinned, already removing his tunic.

With vengeful precision, the slave lashed the whip across her naked bottom, striking both buttocks and instantly leaving a thin red welt. Octavia’s hips jolted upwards from the burning pain and a second later another lash whistled into her flanks. Helpless against the continuing onslaught, Octavia writhed and squirmed her bottom and hips, unaware of the splendid sight she was offering her leering audience. One by one their tunics came off and they moved closer, smelling the rising sexual aroma drifting from her parted legs.

“She’s all the better for a good whipping,” she heard one of them remark, and howled as the whip licked into her now naked sex.

“See her cunt winking,” a voice commented.

Octavia blushed red with humiliation and shame. No one had dared treat her like this, shaving her private parts in public, then flogging her bottom in front of a bunch of ne’er do wells. The slave changed direction, lashing the whip savagely along the length of her spine, and again at the tops of her thighs. She kicked out with her feet, but hands gripped her calves and held them rigid. Another pair slapped onto her thighs and pulled them roughly apart, exposing her sex even further. Tears ran down her cheeks as the slave completed the punishment, driving the tail of the whip against her sex lips and around the curve of her hips and buttocks.

Exhausted from her whipping, Octavia allowed the men to drag her off the table.

“Only the collar to fit and she’s ready,” the brothel mistress announced, tossing the slave a thick iron collar.

“I’m not a dog!” Octavia shrieked, as he passed it around her neck.

“You’re lower than a dog,” he said, happily clasping it behind her.

“Just another precaution,” the brothel mistress told her. “Now everyone will know where you belong.”

On the side of the collar was the name of the brothel and the number of the whore wearing it.

“Take her to her room,” the mistress said. “I have no further use for her here.”

Octavia was taken up a flight of steps and into a small windowless room furnished with a single bed and a pot.

The men followed her, their erections leaving her in no doubt as to what was going to happen next.

“Please, I need the pot,” she pleaded.

“No one’s stopping you,” one of them said, kicking the pot under her legs.

“I can’t do it with all of you watching me.”

“In that case, you can fuck with a belly full of piss.”

And they threw her on the bed, legs open and stomach churning.

There was nothing she could do but grit her teeth and endure the repeated penetrations that were coming her way. They rode her one after the other, taking her in various positions that suited their individual tastes. Some had her lying on her back, others took her from behind, she sat astride them whilst others took it in turns to ride her mouth. Only one wanted to fuck her bottom. Exhausted and covered in grime and sweat, she lay on her bed sobbing. The mistress came in carrying a long length of chain and a brothel bully hauled Octavia upright.

“Your husband warned us that you just might take it into your pretty head to escape, so until you get used to your new profession, I’m taking no chances,” the mistress informed her, slipping the chain through a ring at the back of the collar.

She passed the other end of the chain through a ring in the wall and padlocked it. The bully fitted an iron manacle to each of her wrists and chained them behind her back. Then he carefully seated her over the pot.

“Now you can piss all you like,” he smirked.

“But don’t be too long,” the mistress warned darkly. “A new whore is always good for business and I’ve been advertising you all over the city.”

They stood watching intently as Octavia’s water drummed into the pot, and then lifted her off, not even freeing her hands so she could wipe herself.

“I’ll release you when your customers start arriving,” the mistress announced, as her assistant seated her on the edge of the bed.

As soon as they were gone Octavia got up and kicked the pot across the room, spilling its contents over the boards. It would take a lot more than chains and a collar to keep her prisoner. Sooner or later, hopefully sooner, they would dispense with the chains and she would find a way out. She paced the room, wondering where Quintus might have fled. It was only a matter of time before the emperor issued a death warrant and come what may, even if she had to fuck half of Rome, she would witness his execution in the arena. She hoped his death would be a slow one, and then turned as the mistress came into the room and freed her wrists.

“Your first customer,” she said, and left, closing the door behind her.

At the rendezvous, Circo took the immediate precaution of binding Nydia’s wrists and ankles. Then, as a further precaution, gagged her mouth with his belt and shoved her sobbing into a corner.

She watched through tear streaming eyes as he and the black gladiatrix fucked each other right in front of her. Some people, Nydia thought had no sense of decency, but she had to admire the gladiatrix’ long and splendid legs thrashing wildly over his muscle rippling back while he pumped his frenzied hips. They lay exhausted and sweat soaked when Quintus arrived.

“Master!” Africanus exclaimed, untangling her legs and arms from Circo’s massive torso.

She stood up and bowed. Circo came forward and embraced him.

“I knew all about the rigged contest,” he said, glancing quickly at Nydia, wondering why she was bound and gagged. “I also knew all about the Lady Octavia’s plans to have me disposed, which is why I released the ludus into the hands of the creditors and had you both brought here. Nydia was the only one who could deliver the message without attracting suspicion. Now we must flee before the emperor sends the Praetorian Guard to kill us all.”

Circo immediately released Nydia and she went straightway to her master, falling at his feet and throwing her arms around him.

“Get up child,” he said tenderly. “You have done well in saving both gladiators from death and suffering. From now on you shall be my new wife and will do my bidding.”

“But where shall we go?” Africanus asked.

“To the port of Orculanium. There we can get a ship to take us to Egypt or Britannia. But first there is something I must do.”

He led Nydia into a room and closed the door.

“You are a grown woman now, and have proved your worth. Now you must learn to fuck like a grown woman. We have a little time before we set off.”

Nydia unwrapped the towel and tossed it aside and stood naked before her master.

At his bidding she got onto her hands and knees, thrusting out her pert bottom.

“You must learn to take a flogging from both your husband and master,” he said, determined that this one wouldn’t be the trouble the last one had been. “To endure the lash without crying out and, more importantly, learn to embrace the sexual arousal it brings.”

“Yes, master,” she whispered, hearing his tunic fall to the floor.

For a moment, his hands lovingly caressed her bottom. To his experienced eyes it resembled a pale peach at sunrise, glorious in its beauty and softness. He reached beneath her and fondled her hanging breasts, teasing the enormous, succulent nipples as they hardened quickly to the touch. He put his hand between her thighs and gently rubbed her sex, feeling the soft, satin texture of her pubic hair. He was glad that she hadn’t been sex shaved.

His hands left off fondling her and reached for his belt. Nydia knew not to cry out, but to endure the lashing he was going to deliver. She must get used to being beaten and fucked by her master, and must learn to love it.

The belt whistled into her buttocks and she gritted her teeth, emitting only a subdued grunt. But as the belt continued to welt her thighs and buttocks a new-found feeling of lust and longing surged through her slim loins. Every stroke brought an increasing desire to be fucked hard. Quintus lashed her thrusting bottom with increased strength, pausing only to hear her lustful gasps and groans. Louder and louder she grunted at the exquisite pain tingling through her soaking sex. She raised her bottom higher, willing him to beat harder. But Quintus slowed his pace and flicked the belt over her slender hips, teasing her now, testing her endurance not to climax so quickly. It was a test of her womanhood to see how long she could resist the lash before begging for his cock.

When he considered she’d had enough of the belt, he ran his fingertips along the welts, pressing hardest where the welts were broader and more livid. He heard her gasp at the increased pain, but so far not a cry had escaped her lips. Her sex was dripping with desire, her nipples itching for his lips. Now she wanted her lord and master more than ever. But still she kept silent, biting her lip and grinding her teeth. Never before had she experienced such acute sexual longing or the need for a hard cock to ride her pulsating sex.

Quintus knew she had suffered and was ready. His erection slipped easily into her soaking tunnel. There was no need to force it in to her with the brutality of a satyr. He rode with long, thrusting strokes delighting in the gasps and lustful pants of satisfaction coming from her parted lips. She looked over her shoulder, her face ablaze with blissful adoration as her master pumped her relentlessly.

While he rode her, the gladiators kept watch on the road, ready to act if anyone approached, but the countryside was empty.

“I could never have killed you, Circo,” Africanus said sadly, her hand resting on his cock.

“Nor I you,” he replied, giving her large breasts a fond squeeze. “But you have come a long way, my beautiful black gladiatrix. In time you shall be the best.”

“Under your tuition,” she replied, fondling his balls. “Have we time to fuck again?”

Without waiting for a reply, she threw her arms around his broad shoulders and lifted her weight. His hands were swiftly under her buttocks, raising them level with his hardened cock. Africanus opened her legs and locked them around his back and was penetrated with one eager thrust. He carried her to the door and leaned her back against the jamb.

“I thought you’d fallen in love with Fortuna,” he said, bending his powerful thighs and driving his manhood deep into her trembling slit.

“I thought so too,” she whispered, clinging like a limpet and bucking her hips, feeling him riding her hard.

“No man could match her dildo. It’s legendary amongst the gladiators, so I thought you’d never want another man inside you.”

“It’s not the same. A dildo never wilts, but a man’s cock is real flesh and blood, and it comes.”

“Nothing like pumping you full of hot, gladiatorial spunk,” he laughed, and bounced her buttocks as fast as his strength allowed.

Her breasts flattened against his chest and he felt the warmth of her against him. Her arse was firm and solid and so smooth to the touch, and he fondled her buttocks marveling at the silky texture.

“You’ve gone harder,” she gasped, her face lighting up.

“And you’ve gone wetter,” he replied, hearing her cunt sucking and squelching.

He kissed her voluptuous lips; kissed her heavy eyelids; and fondled her gorgeous bottom, could feel her enormous erect nipples on his chest. He fucked her hard, crashing her bottom and back against the door frame until the whole flimsy building shook and rattled. Africanus jiggled her calves around his hips and flexed her muscular thighs. Her eyes misted from the sheer joy of having his cock trapped in her belly. As she rose to her climax, she hoped Fortuna would understand and forgive her hasty departure. But perhaps she knew all along that she would flee rather than kill her lost lover in an unfair contest. Circo gave a final quake of his loins and shot his whole load, flooding her sex and keeping her clinging to his body until his cock went limp.

She fell from him and leaned against the door as Quintus and Nydia emerged from the room.

Nydia tied up her hair and Africanus could tell from the satiated look on her face that she had been well fucked. In a way, she owed the girl her life and the future she would share with Circo. It had taken no small amount of courage delivering the note and messages. If she had been caught she would have been crucified or ripped to shreds by the beasts. She moved forward and kissed the girl full on the lips.

“She is no longer a slave,” Quintus announced. “I have granted her her freedom. Now we must go. The sun is setting and we must be in Orculanium before dawn.

They set off, Circo leading the way with Nydia following dutifully behind. Africanus and Quintus brought up the rear, keeping a keen eye on the surrounding hills. Soon, the Gods willing, they would all be at sea, on their way to a distant and foreign land.

They walked all night, stopping only briefly to fill their stomachs and quench their thirsts. The wharves of Orculanium were busy even at that early hour of the morning. Cargo ships were unloading their holds, lead and tin mostly imported from Britannia, along with animal skins and iron ore. Quintus made for one of the ships at the embarkation dock and waited at the foot of the gang plank whilst a horde of young women were taken aboard. They were heavily chained; each fitted with a collar and chained to the woman in front and behind. He watched them herded below in frightened groups and then boarded the vessel.

The ship was destined for Britannia, taking girl slaves to the newly Romanised Britons who wanted females trained in the more refined household arts, rather than the unruly Celts. They would also be useful plying the oars on the voyage. The vessel was fitted with cabins and could carry passengers in reasonable comfort. Quintus motioned his followers aboard and told them to keep out of sight until the ship was at sea. Even now, with Rome far behind, he was still uneasy. Octavia was capable of anything and he was beginning to regret not having her killed. He had an uncanny feeling that he hadn’t quite seen the last of her, but dismissed the thought from his mind and went into his cabin.

Circo lay on the bed, arms folded behind his head and staring idly at the roof. Africanus sat stride him letting his cock rest erect against her belly.

“Where are we going?” she asked, sweeping her braids over her shoulder.

A shaft of sunlight came through the cabin window and lighted on her breasts. How magnificent they looked, so large and perfectly shaped, full and firm, the nipples hard and excited now that they were all embarking on new adventures.

Circo reached out and gave each shining globe a gentle squeeze. “I think we’re heading for Britannia, my homeland. If Quintus intends to set up in business there, we shall do well my black Goddess. The arena at Londoninium is well favoured and girl gladiators are highly prized.”

Her bottom lifted from his thighs and she reached underneath, guiding his cock into her sex. Circo gave a sigh of satisfaction as she lowered her buttocks and began rocking steadily to and fro. There was no need to hurry now. They could take their time and enjoy each other without fear.

“I wish we were going to my homeland,” she said softly, wriggling her hips and embedding his cock hard into her belly.

Circo pinched her nipples and she winced at the sharp pain shooting through her breasts.

“Just be thankful we’ve escaped,” he said seriously. “The emperor is probably searching for us right now, and you know what would happen if he caught us.”

She nodded and bent forward, swinging her breasts over his hairy chest, letting the erect nipples tease his skin. He gripped her hips and started bouncing her over his middle. Africanus flexed her vaginal muscles, closing the walls around his cock and holding the throbbing shaft tight. He lay still while her cunt petals moved softly around him, caressing his entire length. She was the only woman he had ever fucked who could bring him off using her sex lips while he lay still. He closed his eyes and felt nothing except her lips and sex enveloping his shaft, slowly milking his juice from the tip. It oozed from her sex and ran hot over his thighs. Then she reached her climax, opening her mouth and breathing fast. He liked to watch her face when she came; the eyelids growing heavier, her parted voluptuous lips panting faster, her shoulders and breasts trembling and shaking as she poured out her flowing essence. Her pelvis shuddered and she slumped over his body raking his back with her fingernails.

Then the bed pitched gently from side to side. The ship’s timbers groaned and the sound of running feet bounded across the deck above them. From somewhere below a whip cracked and the oars dipped gracefully into the sea.

Africanus looked out of the window and saw the wharves pass by. Then the vessel turned sharply to port and the whole of the ocean came into view.

Circo ran his hands over her silky buttocks and gave them a playful slap.

“It’s been a long while since I whipped these splendid moons,” he grinned.

Africanus smiled a broad sexy smile and reached for his belt. She let it dangle from her hand, the buckle resting on his chest.

“No time like the present,” she purred, and bared her bottom, the look on her face one of pure ecstasy.

The belt whistled into her buttocks and she jolted forward, her face level with the window. She looked at the endless horizon and smiled again at the pain and pleasure tingling her sex.

“Harder,” she whispered. “Much, much harder.”