The following totally fictitious writings of Faibhar are intended for the sole readership of those of LEGAL AGE. The ADULT ONLY material contained within is also for personal use only where local standards permit scenes of extreme violence, torture and sex. Please do not read further if any of these subjects offend, or if you are not of legal age. The following is for your sole enjoyment and your cooperation in not using the material in any other application without the express permission of the author is requested. Thank you. Faibhar
Arria The dank anteroom was as sparsely finished as where the rest of the rooms. A naked stonewall served as backdrop to Disciplina, head of the gladiatrix. Her star pupil reached a few inches taller than her considerable height. "It is an honor that he has selected you." Arria faced the tough mistress she had come to respect over the past two months of training. Long ago she had learned to forget any notion of modesty. Her own nudity mattered not. Disciplina's words were always more important. The raven-haired instructor warily eyed her pretty pupil. T. Marius Africanus had pointedly summoned the statuesque aediles. She was first to learn of the provincial governor's wishes, and was not about to destroy all it had taken to achieve her rank by the caprice of some young fighter in her stable. Disciplina could bask in the glory, as was her own right. "You are to represent him in the upcoming games." She wanted to ask the woman why it was that she was chosen, but stood silently at attention. It was not her place to speak. She let the leather-clad superintendent continue. "Chosen for your obvious strength," Disciplina knew a standout from the very first day Arria was delivered into her charge. Training had only improved the girl's natural gifts. "The governor favors blondes, and you were also chosen because of these." She remained passive as the older woman narrowed her eyes, pursed her lips and then cupped each full breast. Arria knew she was blessed with many assets, not the least appealing to members of both sexes she knew was her bosom topped with its large and rosy nipples. "But, you must first answer me. With such an honor also comes the responsibility not to in anyway besmirch his good name. Swear now your loyalty." Her tone let it be known that the latter was a command, not a question. Her blue eyes looked back at the intent coals awaiting an answer. She thought a moment and realized she had no idea what she was agreeing to, but decided to go for it anyway. "Thank you, Mistress. I swear to do my very best." Disciplina smiled. She took Arria's right wrist. "Good. Then, come. You need to get prepared. The games begin in ten days." Like Disciplina, the man in the small room was also dressed, though his leathers were more that of a workman. She felt self-conscious being the only one nude. A brazier lit one corner. Disciplina whispered to the graybeard tending to tools in the fire. Both chuckled and faced her. The man's lightly passed calloused fingers over the tops of her breasts. He then examined the shallow hollows on each side of her clenched gluteus maximus. Arria breathed deeply and stared at the blank wall ahead. Her outstretched arms tested the cuffs holding her wrists. They held. A hard edge of the narrow platform supporting her breasts rubbed her breastbone. Disciplina kindly stroked flaxen hair from the woman's ear. "You can still refuse to represent the governor. You will be placed with the rest, no harm shall result." All knew that sense most men were called into the military nowadays, gladiatorial games involving humans consisted of females. "Just do it." "Very well then. To represent our praetor Africanus in the upcoming ludi circenses, you must wear his brand." Arria snapped her head to face Disciplina. Beads of perspiration formed over her upper lip. Her lungs suddenly filled as she heard the words. Stomach knotting, she looked back to the wall and remained mute. There was no mistaking what the gladiatrix meant by using the word 'brand'. Her neck felt sweaty. "Call it politics, or whatever, his highness has designated his brand as that of all Rome...SPQR." Arria's legs involuntarily squeezed, but her cuffed ankles held as strongly as those holding her wrists. The bearded one stood in the fire's glow. "SP on the left one, and QR on the right. Same for your ass cheeks." She saw the old man turn a long-handled iron whose end was with the others in the heart of the small blaze. "Here...put this between your teeth. Bite on it as you begin to feel the heat. It will ease the pain. Somewhat." Disciplina wedged the small piece of hardwood between the white teeth. Setting it in place, she softly stroked the blonde's cheek and nodded to the man. Arria's eyes widened. Taking the bit, she saw him use both hands to grip and iron and remove it from the brazier. The letter "S" glowed red in the dim room. Her eyes fluttered open. She was still held in place. Her head pounded. Sweat dripped from every pore. Disciplina was explaining that the elderly woman joining them was a bandager. The capsarii was a veteran nurse. Ointment was deftly applied to breasts and ass. Clean cloth covered the fresh brands. Arria's head swum. With more lucidity, horrors returned. Haunting memories of her own flesh sizzling burned her brain. Disciplina was saying something else and fingered the flesh around a nipple. Arria looked closer and saw the thick needle in the instructor's hand. "Compared to the brands, this will hardly hurt at all..." Arria screamed again and rocked the platform as the sharp point went through the nipple's base. Her back arched. Powerful leg muscles exerted themselves. The rest of her body writhed. She didn't notice the thick golden stud slid into the newly opened hole. She was too out of her mind to pay attention as the second nipple was pierced, and stud fitted. Disciplina's fingers went through the wet hair covering the slumped head. The trainee had done well, but how she would do during the games was another matter. She removed her slick fingers and wiped the sweat away with a towel. "This one's had enough, for now. Let's get her back to the gladiatrix quarters." *** She felt well enough to join the others that night in the main room. Beaming faces welcomed her. There was Ileana with her lovely eyes, the curvaceous Charmaine, funny little Famina and the Viking Salgeror, who was taller and seemed very powerfully built. In their cloister nudity was taken for granted, and certainly given their training nothing to be ashamed of. Many were actually proud to be selected as much for their athleticism as for their obvious physical charms. Each differing size, shape and color had become familiar. All Arria met asked about the bandages and remarked on the gold studs. From differing corners of the Roman Empire they had been captured and brought for training at the Gladiatrix School. What differences in spoken tongues were easily dismissed with an understanding of a universal fate none had chosen. Arria noticed an unfamiliar face sitting by herself on the floor in the corner, but for the moment saw a face she could recognize not present. "Where's Cecilia?" "Haven't you heard?" Cloacina had seemed closest of all to the missing woman. "No, I guess I haven't. What happened?" The others sheepishly scattered their eyes. Cloacina put down her cup of wine and tossed back her red mane. "She told them she's a Christian. They'll be having lunch at the games when they kill her." "No!" For the second time that day, Arria felt faint. Her fingers pressed her chest. Cloacina hardly seemed to care. "Don't go fretting over Cecilia. She's toast. Who you should really consider is that African over there." She pointed to the dark figure sitting by herself. "That's who you'll be fighting in the forum." The others quietly filtered away as she spoke. Arria looked back at the stranger. The woman sat with her knees up and appeared not to listen to any of them. "What's this ludi circenses all about?" The dark-haired one sat with her knees locked and didn't answer. Three short, pink scars marred very firm looking thighs. There were brands too, but her's were designed differently. Given the darker canvas they contrasted differently too. Arria wanted to talk. "Hey! I'm talking to you." The one called Vispania finally acknowledged Arria's presence over her. The dark-skinned beauty rose to her feet. The two were of equal height. "Well I'm not talking to you." Her voice rumbled low and hissed through her teeth. With that, she walked away to the sleeping area, but not before Arria recognized the design on her right buttocks as that of a victorious general. Arria felt a warm hand hug her shoulder. It belonged to Ilena. She felt herself guided back to the dining table and sat with the rest. With flushed cheeks, she examined their faces. "Somebody tell me what this fight is supposed to be about..." "They didn't tell you?" Cloacina used a stone to sharpen her sword blade. "Face it Arria: The rest of us might fight amongst ourselves someday, and even poor Cecilia will be executed, but, either you or that one who just left are going to leave that arena alive. Welcome to Hades." The words stung the face like a slap. She looked down at her bandages. There was just over a week to prepare. Arria's vow to Disciplina now seemed more crucial than ever. She had to do her best. It was either that or die. Responsibility with representing, and the honor that came with it was one thing, but the games now had become a matter of life or death. Arria didn't have to be told that she was too young to die. Of that, she was certain. *** The morning of the games Cloacina and the others buzzed about their costumes. They were to be archers, and each wore abbreviated white tunics with gold embroidery. Just like the goddess of the hunt, Dianna. Arria muttered a goodbye as they left her alone in the subterranean cell under the forum. She sat cursing her own misfortunes when Disciplina appeared at the doorway. The gladiatrix wore a special toga for the day. She had even done up her hair. It looked very upper class, making the single braid Arria wore feel even more like a slave. "Come now. It's almost time." Without a word, she rose to her feet and followed Disciplina down the tunnel to a larger room. An ox stood harnessed to a four-wheeled cart. "Up you go..." She grabbed both sides and put a bare foot on the cart gate. With a pull, she stood on the bed. The stone ceiling arched just a few feet over her head. Beyond the large doors she could hear the excited noises of the crowd and the noises of wild animals. She just imagined how Cecelia and the archers were doing. "Turn now." Disciplina inspected the SPQR brands. They healed well and the block letters boldly contrasted with the white skin on the swaying breasts. Disciplina gripped one breast steadily. She secretly smiled at its warmth. Other fingers slid out the gold stud. She could tell that Arria was carefully watching. From her toga, she produced a thick lead latch attached to short links of chain and then another latch. She threaded one end through the pierced nipple. The fit was tight, but she managed to tug the latch through. Closing the clasp, she did the same with Arria's other breast using a second latch and chain. "Down now, on your hands and knees. Face the rear of this cart." Arria forgot about the noises booming from the other side of the door and followed Disciplina's orders. The new lead latches dangling from her nipples clattered as they hit the scarred wood. Air inside this garage stifled. Odors from the ox mixed with human odors. Without ventilation, the room was stuffy. She might be glad to be outside after all... "Give me a hand." Arria raised her arm and held her hand out for the tall instructor and watched fascinated as a peculiar glove was secured around her wrist. Felt covered the glove and at its base was an authentic hoof. Her other hand was similarly gloved. She craned her head up and questioned Disciplina. "You get to be the "cow" today." She grinned and placed a hollowed cow's head atop Arria's parted hair. "And last...but not least," Disciplina hefted up the heavy lead ingots and placed each under Arria's dangling chains. She hooked the weights to the loose latches. "There you are..." Hearing trumpeters outside, Disciplina ordered the door to be opened. She jumped down from the cart as it jerked forward. Waving at Arria's baleful face, she blew a kiss and reminded the cow-woman to make us all "proud". *** The bright sunlight after the darkened underground blinded. Her body swayed with the motion of the cart, yet the weight chained to her nipples were so heavy they kept her in place. The cart stopped. The gate was opened and a small ramp fitted. Arria saw an old slave jump up and felt a collar put around her neck. She sway the leash attached. The slave pulled. Arria grimaced. The weights were too heavy. The slave tugged at the leash again. Arria looked down. Her full breasts were pulled lower. The letters of the brand lengthened. She heard the weights scrape. She started to move down the ramp. Peals of laughter filled the capacity crowd at the forum. The sight of the frightened female dressed like a cow amused all. Trumpeters, sensing the moment, blared a fanfare. Barbeque smells wafted around the simmering crowd, sated after lunch but now eager to satisfy different appetites. The blonde being dragged from the cart fired many emotions. Gestures and comments referred to the Roman initials emblazoned on her white body. Those same initials, they knew, were ones adopted by their leader, Africanus himself. Their laughs turned to cheers. Arria grunted as she hit the sand. Looking down between her arms, the tight chains further pulled her breasts. The weights looked half-buried in the arena sand. Lifting her head up, she saw three tiers of people ringing the forum. Garlands of flowers were strung along the wooden walls. Columns of smoke from various altars wafted skyward. Old slaves were finishing their cleaning of the sand from the gore of past kills. The view to her right made her gasp. Cecelia hung crucified. She was still alive, which made the sight all the more horrible. Trails of red ran down her limbs. Her shining body looked pale. Dark hair loosed, it covered her slumped head and tangled over her shoulders. The next blast of horns startled Arria. She looked across the ring. Another cart had appeared. An ox, too, drew it. Jewels glittered from the stands. Waves of togas greeted the new arrival. In his royal box Arria saw Africanus smile. She also saw the slave standing behind him and holding aloft gold laurels. The cart halted. From a ramp another slave pulled a leash. Vispania looked much different than when the two had first met back in the gladiatrix quarters. Atop her head rode the head of a panther. Her dark breasts were pulled down with weights, as well, but rather than hooves, her gloves carried the claws of a big cat. Arria remained transfixed by the woman. She didn't notice the cart roll away. She hardly paid attention to a growing chorus of raucous boos from the spectators. The panther-woman looked all too menacing. Arria thought of running, but did not know where to run. Even if there was some exit, the weights refused to allow her to move. T. Marius Africanus delighted in the exhibition. He sucked a grape. Animals had been seen in a variety of circuses, and they held some interest. Crucifying the Christian too, but this contest seemed to delight all. Naturally, he hoped that the one who bore his brand...the cow-woman...could somehow win, but even if she did not, instinct told him that the entertainment value was higher than any had seen before. His own creativity in suggesting the idea was genius. But, the blonde wasn't moving. Acknowledging the displeasure of the crowd, he nodded to an elderly slave carrying a small bucket of hot coals. He saw the bald-headed man remove a heated iron from his bucket and then touch it to her rear thigh. Africanus bellowed with laughter and swallowed more grapes as the blonde loudly yelped and dragged the weighted chains on her hands and knees closer toward where her opponent waited. Vispania was prepared. She viciously swiped claws at the approaching female. The movement hurt her own breasts, but she experienced the pain before. Her only regret was catching the white shoulder with only one claw as her arm swung past. Arria choked. The burn from the iron spurred her to scurry faster than she ever thought she could. Feeling the claw from Vispania scratch her upper arm shocked. She forgot about her tortured breasts. Vispania readied for another swipe, this time at the other woman's exposed face when the blow upset her balance. Arria decided to use one of her hoofed hands. She cried out at the searing pain in her chest as she swung. She smacked Vispania hard against her shoulder and saw the other woman blink when she hit. "Give up now...cow. You have no chance." Vispania moved her shoulder. The joint felt fine; her ego, though, was hurt. She hissed words at the other female already dripping sweat. She readied her claws for another swing. This was going to be too easy, she thought. The words of a former lover burned into Arria's brain. The Roman soldier had told her one of their dictums was that Bravery is of more value than numbers. The claws did outnumber her hooves, but she was still determined to win. Knowing what the movement would cause, she knew she had no choice...Shifting weight all to one side, she swung her legs forward. Toes slammed into Vispania's exposed ribs. Her knee flew up and crashed hard into the stomach. The panther-woman lay in shock as she was straddled. If there was anything good about lying on her back, it was that tension on her tits was eased. Arria's own pulled down more. One hoof at a time, the blonde began to pummel Vispania's face. Her fists knocked off the panther head. The wooden amphitheatre erupted as the under-dog clearly bested the favored. From his shaded box, Africanus toasted all with more wine as his eyes beheld the spectacle. Who cared about the crucified female? This was much, much better! His ribald cheers joined the gale as one gladiatrix knocked the other senseless. Sand scattered, arms flailed, legs kicked as the contestant's own yells were heard above the crowds. Initial shock sank from the more experienced North African, but she knew she had to do something fast. Her bloodied face twisted and bit Arria's right forearm. Feeling her tense, she twisted her torso. The blonde fell off as she rolled. Vispania blindly swung again and again missed, this time clawing the sand. Screaming, she crawled on top. But their nipple chains were tangled. Her breasts smashed into Arria's. Both thrashed. Africanus was about to order the slave to replenish his cup when he signaled a halt Seeing the two branded female bodies entwined was quite a sight, but blood covered both faces. It was difficult to see if it was the blood of one of them, or both. Pressed into making another decision, the corpulent leader was about to stand and call the fight a draw when events helped. The blonde jack-knifed her body. Her head butted into the dark-skinned one. For long moments in the hushed arena both combatants lay still, one on top of the other. Attendants ran out to separate them. The chains were untangled and Vispania pulled off. She lay still on her back, eyes wide open. A jagged fissure splitting her head began just under the matted hairline. The slaves wiped clean Arria's face. She groaned. Freed of Vispania and the weights, she was helped to her feet. He ordered more wine, finished his goblet and ordered more. Casting his eyes about the amphitheatre, Africanus saw only jubilation. His people were elated. Almost anti-climatically, he waved to the attendants to remove the two. Turning to leave, he grinned to all around. They worshipped him! *** Later that night Arria still shivered remembering the afternoon. She had done bad things before, but never killed another. She nursed the bandaged arm and small cut above her eye. Another voice inside reminded that it could have just as easily been her killed today. "You've been requested." Disciplina smiled approvingly at the huddled blonde as she stepped into the solitary cell. The others had typically been sent to various soldiers, leaving only Arria behind. Despite the tears she could see Disciplina had changed. A purple stola hung over her fresh toga. It was the first time Arria had seen the aedilis wearing jewelry. She slowly got to her feet and wiped her face as dry as she could. "You did well today..." Disciplina turned the bare shoulder around and wrapped a warm brown cloak over the nude. She produced a fibula and let the brooch fasten the two halves of the cloak around Arria. She wrapped a veil around the washed and dried hair. "We are going out. But, you must wear this." Arria felt Disciplina gently pull her single braid from under the veil and let if fall over the cloak. She was glad for her company. "Yes mistress." The soft blindfold covered her eyes and she felt the other woman tie it in a bow behind her head. She then felt the veil positioned and walked as she was led out the door. They said little as the cab progressed. Arria felt the curtains of the closed litter as she got in. They felt very rich. It felt good to be out. When asked where they were going, all Disciplina said was that an old friend of hers, someone who was a patrician primus pilmus had seen her fight and requested her company. She said the wealthy senior officer was not to be denied. Arria asked nothing more, and settled back into the deep cushions to enjoy the ride. Once inside of the home, her other senses told her that where she was was even plusher than the ride over. Rich oils from lamps and exotic incenses filled her lungs. She was given a glass of wine. The vintage was excellent. Arria felt Disciplina take her hand and lead her into another room. There, she felt the fibula free her cape and she stood nude, were it not for the cover still shielding her eyes. "It's me, Arria. Fear not." Disciplina slipped a date into the young woman's mouth as they lay upon the bed. She rubbed her own nude body against Arria's flank .Sipping more wine, she reached over and cupped a warm breast. Disciplina smiled as she felt the other's heartbeat. Arria felt the man's presence as soon as he entered the room. Armillae tinkled as he joined them on the bed. The bangles worn at the man's wrists attesting to earlier battles confirmed what Disciplina had earlier said about him being a senior officer. She was soon to learn that he was also no novice to lovemaking. The two of them seemed to also savor Arria's enthusiasm. All three experienced orgasms in ways never before thought possible. Frenetic hours impassioned the night. When none of them could take any more earthly pleasures, they lay in a tangle heap of flesh. Disciplina lightly kissed Arria cheek. "We must get back." Her whisper brought both to their feet. Arria sensed that the man had already left. She rued the fact of never seeing him so keen was the remembrance of his touch. Her fingers felt a strange tightness and metal around one. Disciplina kissed her cheek again and led her out. As she did, she whispered in her ear. "You have pleased the master very much. The ring is his gift to you." Once in the cab and off, Arria could take no more of the suspense. She tore off the blindfold and looked. On her finger was a lovely ring of gold. She snapped her head to Disciplina, riding alongside. Her mistress stared straight ahead with a glazed look, but Arria saw the rich cape of crimson silk her mistress wore. It was worth its weight in gold! She looked again at Disciplina's stare and then softly kissed her mistress' cheek. Arria closed her eyes and reflected on what a truly odd day it had been. *** Celebrations and games in the forum continued that week. Arria quickly became something of a local hero to the fans. She no longer wore the costume of a cow, but met and conquered each opponent equipped as a she-wolf, a guise fitting as a representative of Roma. The more she killed, the more withdrawn from the others. The night following each contest she was pirated away with Disciplina for another evening of splendors, to be masked and ultimately rewarded with more rings from the mysterious patrician. During each day, those she had considered friends shunned her. The day she fought and won over the Dacian proved the pivotal point. Salgeror, the Viking, fought bravely but in the end the victory was Arria's. None spoke to her following the match. "All set?" Disciplina's warm voice filled the tiny cell. She helped drape the cape over Arria, fasten her blindfold and place the veil over her head. The two left for the street. Once there, Arria was left to stand alone. In another room, she heard Disciplina and another voice animatedly conversing. When she returned, the aedilis whispered in her ear. "Because the games ended today and tonight is the final night, the master has planned a party for his staff. Here...feel this." Arria heard coins clinking and felt a heavy bag set in her palm. "There is over thirty denarius there!" "Oh, that is good mistress." Arria smiled She had heard that the going rate for hiring a woman was 8 denarius. The two of them would be getting thrice that amount. "And, there's more good news." Disciplina hotly breathed into Arria's ear, so much was her excitement. Arria cocked an eyebrow under the blindfold and slightly tilted her head toward the excited woman next to her. "This," she rattled the heavy bag in Arria's hand, "Is all for just you!" Arria shifted her hips. "But..." "No! I have been ordered to leave. I will see you back at the camp later tonight. I'll give you your money then." She kissed Arria'a smooth cheek and took the bag before the other had a chance to protest. Gathering her stola, she hustled away to where a servant held open the door and left. Arria listened as her trainer departed. A moment of silence was followed by the sound of men approaching. The silver leash attached to her collar rose and fell as it lay over the cloak covering her left breast. "There she is, my men. My reward to you for another superior season." Arria tensed as she heard the masculine voice boom. It was obvious that the voice was referring to her. She also recognized the voice from previous nights spent in the company of its owner and Disciplina. Fingers undid the brooch and she felt the cape pulled off. "Surely you recognize Africanus' markings and look at those marvelous tits. Despite dragging the weights we all saw over the last few days, the resiliency is quite remarkable. Nipples a bit swollen, perhaps," the voice paused as chortles gathered around agreed, "But very firm and luscious none the doubt. You'll all get to sample, but first, I propose a toast!" A filled glass was put in Arria's hand. She listened as the voice toasted all of Rome and then sipped. The wine tasted much headier than she had drank on previous nights. Arria swallowed more. The liquor burned as it went down her throat. Hands began the exploration. Arria stood still as she was fondled and probed. She took another drink and tried to think of other thoughts but her mind kept returning to the attentions of those around her. She felt her breathing grow faster and wasn't sure if it was the strong wine, or what, but felt her body responding. She emptied the glass and it was taken away by some unseen other hand. "Let's get her down on her hands and knees. May as well be right here." Arria felt the silver chain lightly tugged and obediently dropped to both knees. The marble floor felt cool. Her splayed hands went next. A strange hand lifted up her chin. Lips kissed her forehead. "That's it. You start there, the rest of you choose your positions." The men laughed. It sounded as though their were five of them. Arria heard glasses being put on tables and the rustle of fine linen. Hands stroked her back and buttocks. Heat pressed across her nose. The warm silkiness of flesh perfumed with musk was unmistakable. She dutifully opened her mouth, felt the penis enter and closed her lips around its shaft. The gold studs were removed and two of them suckled her nipples. Arria heard them laughingly call attention to their imitation of Remus and Romulus drinking from the Mother of Rome. Guffaws were filled with the sounds of more wine being poured into glasses. Arria sucked the shaft until its owner came. Gobs of hot semen gagged. Before she could recover, another cock took its place. She was soon rocking back and forth in rhythm with thrusts from the front of her and her rear. Exhausted, Arria lay on her side. The men had used every possible orifice, at least once. They, too, sounded sated. Words slurred from couches that must be nearby. She dreamily looked forward to her soon return. "Hey. I know her. We had that stubborn battle at Veii, and she was one of them!" Arria perked up as the younger voice shouted. It was true, her home was the Etrsucan city and they long fought the Romans for control of the trade routes up the Tiber. She heard struggles as the men got to their feet and shuffled over to where she lay. A hand grabbed the end of her single braid and jerked her back up to her arms and knees. The drunken voice barked as it yanked the female up by her hair. "Am I right, or am I right? ANSWER!" Arria's eyes squinted as she was raised. Tears welled. She didn't know how to answer. The Romans, she knew, thought all Etruscan women were whores and she also knew they hated a defiant defense such as the one at Veii. "Let her answer." It was the calmer voice of the lover she had first met with Disciplina. Arria wanted to run to his arms. "You ARE and Etruscan, aren't you?" The scary voice persisted so far as to still savagely pull her hair. "Tell us...What's your REAL name?" Arria gulped. She felt the men's cum slick her thighs. Her muscles quivered. An inner voice told her that since she had done so well tonight and earlier in the games that everything would be fine if she was truthful. In a tiny voice she answered. "Back home...I was called Ati." She was about to explain how the name was changed when she came to the Roman Fusian city but kept quiet when the braid fell back to her back. She breathed a sigh of relief. Relief proved premature, however, as male voices around muttered the Roman synonym for prostitute, "Etrsucan" and Arria heard other epithets hurled. Her face flushed. Beneath the blindfold ran hot tears. Their jeers shamed. The braid yanked her head back up. A open fist cuffed her left ear. Knuckles smacked her right cheek. Another blow sent her sprawling over the mosaic floor. Arria lay sobbing. The blindfold partially uncovered one eye. Standing and sitting around she saw many pairs of hairy muscular male legs revealed by the short military tunics. Oil lamps dimly illuminated the comfortably appointed room. Seated across the floor were two legs covered by a long toga. She recognized the wide purple bands. It had to be him, she thought, gulping back her sorrows. Her tongue felt something strange. A tooth was loose. Rising a little with aid from her arms, she began to crawl toward the covered legs. "Take her to the garden." The more mature voice said in low tones. "I don't want the whore messing my floor." "Fornicatrix!" "Lupa!" Arria stopped. Seeking help from the senior officer was of no use. And then the names hurled at her by his staff made her plight more dire. "Quaestuosa!" Her roots felt ready to give at any moment. She crawled toward the colonnades leading to the open air. Following one blow to the head the wrap around her eyes was pulled free. Her tormentors stood around in all shapes and sizes. In the moonlight, she could see two of them wore trimmed beards. All were drinking and laughing. The colonel was not among them. "Vulgatrix!" The tiny pebbles underneath felt cool. Arria could see stars above. She was pulled to a grassy area. The blades also felt cool. Columns surrounded the small garden. Awash in the pale light from the moon trickled water feeding from an elaborate fountain. The deep voice commanded from just inside the house. "Wait before you strike the Etruscan's face anymore. I have another idea." All, including Arria, looked to the tall figure in white as it emerged from the candlelit room. "But first, someone gag her." Her suddenly lifted spirits plummeted when the final words hit. From behind, some sort of belt was shoved between her teeth. The gag brought more tears to her eyes, but not before she saw the dark coils of the whip held in the figure's hand. "Let the Etruscan crawl freely...There is no place to escape from here. Each man gets two swings of this whip. You are then to pass it to the next man. And so forth." The toga-clad figure stepped into the moonlit garden with the others. "Now, let the games begin." Arria scampered as fast as she could toward the night shadows of the nearest tree hoping for some safety there. Before she could reach her destination, a flame burst along half the length of her lower spine. Choking on the belt in her mouth, she kept crawling. The second bolt shuddered her balance. Pain spread diagonally from just below one hipbone to the opposite upper rear thigh. Her frantic pace slowed as she righted herself and resumed crawling toward the shadows. The merrymakers swilled more wine as the whip was passed to the next man. They cheered as the fourth strike soundly drummed the ribcage and leveled the Etruscan. She lay sprawled across the dark lawn. The officers drunkenly passed the whip around a second time. Each jerk of the female served as reason for further raucous laughter, but when the Etruscan curled into a fetal position and just passively took the blows rained upon her, the men lost interest. No longer did the game offer the challenge of a fleeing prey. "Now men: I have another idea." All looked toward their leader's voice and stood silently for further orders. "Stand the Etruscan up. Here's a rope." He tossed to the nearest a lengthy rope as two others picked up the cowering female. "Tie her wrists with one end and toss the rest over the limb of that tree." Arria felt her tied wrists raised high over her head. Limbs stretched. Tips of her big toes scratched for the grass. Her head pounded. A metallic taste soured her mouth. She faced the men standing in front of her. Above the pine branch creaked. Somewhere called a night owl. Shoulder blades fanned out as she was suspended barely off the ground. Inebriated filled glasses of more wine as the Etruscan was raised. Every feature shone in the moonlight. Block letters over the tops of drawn breasts boldly contrasted as they were drawn over the pale human canvas. Ample breasts jutted out. Dark ovals pointed skyward. Long legs, illuminated by the heavens above and soft light escaping from the interior of the doma, twitched. Glasses were raised in a mock salute to the famous figure, and then quaffed. "Bring me a longer whip." The host ordered a nearby slave. He clinked glasses with his men as they awaited the return of the servant. Arria lowered her head. She saw the full figures of the men, but her eyes riveted on the older, more patrician one, wearing the long toga. His full head of hair shone silver in the moonlight. Arria could see the angular features of the clean-shaven face and the cold dark eyes that seemed to be boring into her. He looked like everything she had imagined, and then some. The master swallowed remains of his drink and accepted the new whip. As it uncoiled, Arria heard its heft thud as one end fell to the grass. She closed her eyes. Nothing was to be gained in further searching the malevolent gleam now shown by the one she and Disciplina had spent so many nights with. The moon completed its descent leaving only starlight and the glow from lamps lit on the other side of the colonnade. In the available light, the party hooted and jeered as each lash hit the hanging female. Loudest cheers were reserved for hose strikes that made the lettered tits bounce. At first, the legs kicked out and the hips twisted. Her head shook mightily, its single braid swinging rapid, wide arcs behind. The heavier whip was passed among them, and each took turns between more drinking and celebration. Privilege brought little concern for disturbing neighbors with the party noise. Alcohol, and the lack of new action from the maiden tired most. "So...Arria," The master stood alongside and spoke to her head. Close enough to see errant blonde hairs and the trail of drool from under the gag dividing her luscious lips, he cruelly smiled and wondered if resting her chin on her chest, as she was, actually constituted rest at all? He thought not. "Or, should I call you by your real name, Ati the Etruscan?" Arria barely heard the voice next to her. There was no ignoring pain from the lashes as it seemed to burrow into her, as if some monster slowly invaded all levels of her flesh and sought her inner core. "Then, Ati or Arria, surely you remember the many rings I so generously gave you. I want them back." Arria blinked her eyes opened. She had worn every ring the master had given, those on her fingers and toes. She even proudly showed off to Disciplina the tiny earrings as she prepared for the night, full of expectations of more happy moments. That is, until the real party had begun...with just her and them. The patrician gleamed the small dagger just over the bridge of her nose. "I could...take back those gifts to you by using this." His smiled broadened as he saw her eyes widen. "Of course, then I would have to also remove your lovely little digits." The sturdy tree branch holding the rope creaked again as she shook. Guttural sounds from behind the gag teamed with more spittle. Arria frantically shook her head at the smiling master. "Ah. I see that you do not agree." His smile faded slightly and he slid the flat side of the blade over the tops of her tits. "Very well, your generous master shall spare them." Sharpened steel slid over welts and ridges distorting the block letters. "If you insist. Then, I have another idea." The party host whirled away to his guests, and raised his voice in a more commanding tone. "Two of you men: Grab her ankles, part her legs slightly, and hold on tight!" Arria sighed with relief on hearing that no fingers or toes would be severed, and then gasped to alert as she felt hands tightly grab her ankles. The silver-haired military leader felt slightly giddy, but still very much in charge. "Who amongst you," He smiled as he saw the ruddy faces of his staff light up. "Wishes to return from this affair with...a real piece of ass?" Laughing at their enthusiasm, he gripped the dagger in his hand and place a hand above the "QR" branded on the maiden's lower hip. Using the sharp point, he made a shallow incision beginning from near her hipbone. He felt the leg tense. "Hold on tight, I said." The men below nodded and shifted their weight for better purchase as they gripped tighter. Slowly drawing the blade backward, he then traced the profile of her ass, cut a line just above the start of the upper thigh, and then drew the blade up. He looked up at the maiden's corded neck. Female muscles bulged in exertion. Accepting a towel handed by his manservant, he wiped the area free of the busy network of tendrils sliding down. In the night's sky, the blood looked more black than red. Seeing once more the pale, if now smeared, white skin, he quickly pulled the flap free. "Did I not speak the truth? A genuine piece of tail! Veni, vidi, vici. I came, I saw, I conquered." Riotous applause greeted their leader. One of the lucky ones caught the tossed piece of bloody skin and held it up to show his comrades. The two squatting down and holding her ankles with both of their hands happily nodded. "SP" came next, and then the master ordered his servant to bring a curved blade and stood. She was drenched in her own sweat. Distorted letters glistened over the tops of the up thrust tits. "You hardly believe yourself, a mere Etruscan, worthy to bear the sign of Roma, do you Ati?" Tears shimmered. She tried to speak but the gag held her to only the guttural sounds and the drool. Adrenaline pounded. Lips shivered. Creaking above met each shake. Arria tried to beg, but sobbed all the more as she saw her former benefactor accept the blade. The cold edge of the semi-hemisphere chilled as it was laid just under her right breast. "I take that as tacit agreement. With little choice then..."He thumbed the hard nipple once, held the soft warmth steady, and flicked his wrist. The curved blade cleanly sliced upward. He felt the tit come free in his hand. The two holding her legs fell to the ground as she jerked. Peering up, they saw why as their leader tossed the severed breast. A dark hole remained where once it had ridden. "Here's to a find impression by our very own Romulus." He tossed the flesh to the bearded man. The short officer caught it with both hands and curtly bowed his gratitude. "Fear not, Remus...there is one here for you, too!" He severed the one bearing the SP lettering. The men could keep the studs if they wished. The master continued to slice away the maiden's lower lips and hand them out. He kept the clitoris for himself. It would make a find amulet for the chain of victories around his wrist. The Etruscan lost control of her bladder sometime during the butchering. As she was taken down, her wrists remained tied and a servant used towels to mop the bleeding wounds. The master ordered all jewelry removed and a simple military cape wrapped around the half-conscious maiden. He then ordered for a centurion with horse. Dawn was approaching. Stars in the night's sky settled. Chirping insects called it a night and settled in for the coming day. "Take this package back to where she came from." He ordered the armored rider. "With my compliments." He watched as she was draped over the animal's withers. In the growing light the brown wool cape draping most of her darkened with blood. He slapped the horse's haunch and went back inside as the rider and cargo galloped off. *** The centurion cursed his fate for drawing the early morning call. Arriving at the door to the Gladiatrix School, he dismounted. Dragging the limp form from his steed, he dumped the load into the gutter. He rapped three times on the door, and then mounted and rode off. Disciplina had been up all night fretting over Arria's whereabouts. Despite the handsome price paid by the colonel, she later had misgivings and ran to the door when she heard the heavy knocks. Opening it up, she at first saw nothing as she looked up the street and down it. She then saw the crumpled cape in the gutter. To pale feet lay underneath. The aedlis gathered her tunica and knelt down. Cautiously, she withdrew the cape. "NOOO!" Disciplina wailed. Her screams brought others. Tenderly, they lifted and carried Arria's battered body inside. Someone said that she was still breathing. Disciplina beat her own breasts as she tearfully watched Arria lay upon a table. The mutilations devastated. Others wept. Later that morning, when doctors agreed that she could be moved, they loaded a litter bearing Arria. Disciplina left her side only to change into a black leather toga. Her angered seethed after her initial horror at finding Arria. Disciplina was determined to see justice met. She briskly strode alongside the litter carrying the slumbering Arria as they made their way to the palace. T. Marius Africanus, she knew, would share her anger. From his tribunal Africanus considered the sleeping gladiatrix as he listened to Disciplina. Her favor with him allowed this meeting, but surely the beating of a slave was no concern of his. "...And, you might also be interested in this." Disciplina gently lifted the blanket covering Arria and exposed her missing breasts. "They carried your brand in the games." Africanus started. The sight of the amputations was bad enough, but when he realized that this was his champion and that the symbols of Roma had been removed along with her tits, he blanched. Disciplina's hatred grew again, as it had hours before. "And, this." She whipped the blanket off leaving the full brutality of Arria's treatment on display. Beads of sweat grew. Africanus slowly rose and stepped down from the raised platform. With a great heaviness he approached the battered form. His eyes consumed the ravaged hips. They, along with the missing tits, once symbolized his victories at the forum. Africanus glanced up at the raven beauty with her hot breath before him. Slowly, he withdrew a small dagger hidden in his belt. Ignoring Disciplina, he bent over the sleeping form. Fingers tightening around the hilt, he swiftly plunged the dagger under the sleeping female's lower ribs. Disciplina was too slow to react. "Wait!" Her screams came too late. She saw Africanus' knife stab Arria, her lover's body buck as it stabbed, then lie still. Disciplina covered her face as sobs racked her body. Africanus objectively removed his dagger, washed it clean in a bowl and stepped back up to sit at his tribunal. He let the leather-clad gladiatrix finish her sobbing. "Now, Disciplina...Perhaps you may begin by explaining to me just how this could have happened." She choked back her tears, looked at Arria's dead body and then up at Africanus. Disciplina had no choice. She told the entire, unembellished truth. Africanus patiently listened to the woman's litany of trainings, coaching, nightly rendezvous following each game, the money and the gifts. A bejeweled finger supported his jowls. He announced his decision. "Here is what will happen. We have a shortage of able men, so the colonel's men will be reassigned-not exiled, as you would have them. He, though, will be sent way up North, his possessions here confiscated and essentially, reputation ruined." Disciplina respectfully listened. Her emerald eyes cried as she also looked at Arria's body. Revenge would not bring her back, but it was a start. "As for you, who's responsibility was my champion, the very wreck you see here, there also is punishment." Eyes blinked dry. Punishment was to be expected. She had shirked her duties by wantonly taking Africanus' gladiatrix to the senior officer partly out of her own greed. She held her breath and awaited her sentence. Africanus looked down at his aedlis with her bowed head. "GUARDS!" Military boots scrambled over the marble. Black plumes atop crested helmets swept in as Africanus bellowed. He pointed a bony index finger at Disciplina. "Strip her! She is to be scourged twenty times and then sent to the lowliest brothel in the city!" Africanus cruelly smiled as the Imperial Guard overcame Disciplina's protests. The toga she wore ripped away. A pity; he thought as her nudity was exposed. The female was nicely proportioned. Africanus appraised the swinging tits and rippling thighs. Her shoes and jewelry were torn off. Fighting noises in the courtyard diminished. Only the sound of Disciplina's sputtering remained. Africanus looked up at the morning sky. The weather appeared to be fair. Another nice forecast. The people should be pleased. He motioned to the senior guard. "Make sure the brothel is only for the most plebian. Perhaps there this irresponsible lesbian dyke will be best treated." Smirking, he rose from the tribunal and stepped down on his way to a pleasant breakfast. The End
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