Seduced by the Gladiator (14 page)

Rising to my knees, I gripped the base of his cock in my fist, then guided it to the dripping entrance to my cunt. I positioned it against my heat, watching with satisfaction as his eyes widened at the sensation.

I bore down, taking him in until I could feel his testicles press against the globes of my ass. I stayed still a moment, savoring the sensation of his massive erection, fully sheathed in my heat, stretching me to the point of pain.

Then I began to move, and the desire I felt took my breath away.

Back, forth. Back, forth. Soon I felt that wave rising again, brought about by the friction of movement deep inside of me. I did not want to experience release again without him. When my breath began coming in pants, and his did, too, I moved the fingers of one hand to the taut globes of his testicles behind me, and rubbed uncertainly in circles.

He groaned and moved faster, clearly enjoying the sensation, and my touch became surer. One of his fingers found its way to my clit. We rocked and we circled, and then we rocked faster. I ground myself down against the friction of his coarse hair, and he bucked up into the heated space between my legs.

Christus added his thumb to his circling finger, and I screamed, not caring who heard. It was too much sensation. I could not handle it, and then I went flying, and I tried to bring my legs together against the onslaught, but Christus was between them, and he was shouting as well.

Christus withdrew, and I felt something hot and wet splatter against my stomach as I came again. I pressed down with my pelvis and reveled in the feel of Christus’ cock jumping beneath me as it emptied.

Then the storm was over, and I was stunned.

I slid off of Christus’ lap, my muscles lax with satisfaction and my mind empty of thought but full of pleasure. With a cloth of some sort—I was not sure where he had gotten it from—I felt Christus slowly clean the mess from my stomach. As my bearings slowly came back, filtering through the haze of what had just happened, I became aware that, with the amount of time that had passed, it had to be full night. Drained, I imagined that outside the moon forced glimmers of light from the sand, a thing of beauty. If we had been outside, or if we’d even had a window in the stone wall, it would have done the same as it glanced over our bodies, entwined and slick with sweat, and I savored the image in my mind’s eye.

As I lay curled on top of the now tangled sheets, I thought that Christus would want me to go right away, that he would urge me to my own bed, where I would have to curl up in my covers by myself and enjoy the sensations still rioting through my blood. I would not even have been that upset if he did—it would be easier for me to let go of any clinging emotions I was feeling as a result of their encounter if he had me go.

But Christus cupped his hands around my elbows and urged me closer to him. Sliding his palms to the curves of my behind, he nudged until we were lying on our sides, facing each other, legs tangled together in a sweaty mess.

More delighted than I cared to admit, I nuzzled into the hollow between his jaw and neck, inhaling the scent that was rapidly becoming familiar. I felt like I should say something, but I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to express the enormity of what had just happened.

Christus didn’t speak, so I kept silent, too. But I closed my eyes and luxuriated in the feeling of his hand stroking over the taut skin of my back, and of being so close to someone as my body began to relax.

I wanted to stay awake, wanted to savor the moment, because I had no idea if it would ever happen again, whether by his choice or mine I still wasn’t entirely clear. But in the warm circle of Christus’ arms, I found myself drifting off, and finally, finally, I fell asleep.

I
was awakened hours later by the sound of broken music, of heavy footfalls from overhead. I registered the fact that Christus’ arm was banded around my waist before I realized that it was early morning—such early morning that the inhabitants upstairs had not yet gone to bed.

The sounds had started as I had lain in this man’s arms after our frenetic sex. Now, though, they had increased in volume abruptly. My heart pounded suddenly as I realized that the great door that led from upstairs to down had been opened.

Beside me Christus shifted—the noise had woken him as well. Sounds such as these happened on occasion during a party—the gladiators were led upstairs to act as both decoration and entertainment. The dominus had always firmly refused anyone’s requests for my company, but this time I knew that my fate would not be so kind.

“Let me go.” Even in the dim light, I could see the anger beginning to darken Christus’ face, and it was not anger directed toward me.

He was smart. He knew as well as I did what was coming.

I had only enough time to pull my sleep shift over my naked body—my leathers would have taken too long to tie properly. Then the knock at the inner door came, and my heart sank as Christus slowly, begrudgingly moved to open it.

The knock itself was ominous. I would have, at that moment, preferred one of Bavarius’ fumbling, brutish attacks.

The hinge creaked as Christus pulled the door open. On the other side, carrying a candle, was the doctore.

He looked no more pleased than either of us.

“You have been summoned upstairs.” He smelled of wine, and I realized that, given his honored position, he had likely been upstairs participating in the celebration. I wanted to ask him what was waiting for me, for I had always noted that patricians spoke far more freely around slaves than around their peers, for slaves were of no consequence to them whatsoever.

I could not coax the words from my mouth.

“I am coming.” I did not look at Christus as I followed the doctore from the small room—if I had, I felt certain that I would cry, and I had not shed tears since my early days in the ludus, when I had never been able to imagine an end to the attacks by Bavarius and his friends.

With the scent of our lust still clinging to my skin, I walked away, knowing that my lover’s stare was branding the skin at the nape of my neck.

I followed the doctore, and felt somewhat betrayed by the man’s silence.

Just before we reached the bottom of the stairs, he pulled me into the medic’s room and handed me a set of leathers—new ones, untarnished by the sweat and blood of the arena.

“It would be best for you to dress yourself.” He averted his eyes, though, as the doctore, the man had seen me in various states of undress enough times over the years.

Gratefully, I pulled my sleep shift over my head and made quick work of donning the leather. The cloth of my shift was sheer, and I wore nothing beneath it. It would be entirely too inviting to many a drunken celebrator.

I was thankful for the new clothing for a second reason, as well. The smell of Christus clung to the sheer white cloth and was a constant reminder of him—my weakness, something that I had never had before.

These leathers were new and smelled as such. In them, I felt very much like the old Lilia, the one who would and could face anything head on.

Face it and defeat it.

I
had been upstairs in the house more often than most of the gladiators, and that was only because of the dominus’ favor toward me. Despite the visits that I had had, I was not familiar with the room to which I was led—I had only before been in the great hall, for parties, and in the office of the dominus.

This room, the one that the doctore led me into, was much more opulent than the office, and much more intimate than the great hall. He stopped as soon as we were through the door, and so I stopped also, taking the time to adjust to my surroundings.

What I saw made me very nervous.

My dominus watched me from where he reclined on a soft couch on the far side of the room. His toga look rumpled, and from the flush of his skin, I could tell that he had had far too many cups of mulsum. Though I did not begrudge him his own wine, I knew that I could not expect any help from him.

Not that he had much that he could offer, in the face of the brother of the emperor. Perhaps that was why he had overindulged.

Curled next to him on the couch was his wife, Annia. The domina lay half sprawled in her husband’s lap, her hand resting lightly on his clothed cock. Her toga had been untied to reveal the smooth skin of her breasts and torso, skin that was white as parchment, as the skin of any fashionable lady should be. Her eyes were glassy, and I suspected that she had partaken of something stronger than wine. My eyes raked the small table in the center of the room, which was littered with full cups, empty cups, and jugs of wine. There, lying in the middle of the polished wood, I spotted it—the small glass vial that I knew would contain opium.

A small, intimate party like this with opium and wine could be far more dangerous to me than a large, raucous one in which I could get lost. Here, they had all partaken of enough substances to feel as though they were friends. Friends gave each other gifts when they were requested.

As I turned to the man who sat on a sofa of his own, his posture as arrogant as if he sat on the throne of the emperor himself, I knew that I was what had been requested.

The pawing hands that always haunted me made their appearance, and panic began to claw at the insides of my throat.

“Come closer.” The sense of trouble that I was in deepened when I realized that it was not my dominus who spoke, but the brother of the emperor. The man had so much control that he had taken over my master’s home—for all intents and purposes, he
was
the master here.

I looked to the doctore for help—though he smelled of wine, he still seemed sober enough, and I had no one else to appeal to.

His eyes were pained, but his expression was set as he gestured into the room with a nod of his head. He could do nothing either.

I was alone and at the mercy of this stranger.

“I said, come here.” Slowly, I walked across the room, each step measured, as if it would prevent the inevitable. But no matter how slowly I moved, soon I was standing directly in front of the man who, though I had never met him, terrified me.

At first I kept my eyes on the ground—I did not want to look at this man. At the last moment, though, the steel that had made me the most successful gladiator in the ludus snapped into my spine.

I would not let this man see that I feared him. I would show him how strong I was—I would show him that I myself was someone to fear.

“Oh.” The sound escaped my lips before I could help it. I had not gotten a good look at the man during the brief moment in which I had seen him in his litter. He was an incredibly attractive man, with hair the color of sunshine, eyes as blue as the sea, and a frame that was smooth and unlined, likely from lack of hard work.

Far younger than I had anticipated, he was slender yet toned, and while I was used to staring at male bodies that had been sculpted from never-ending physical labor, I saw how he could appeal.

Saw the appeal, that is, until I looked right into those guileless blue eyes. There I found the relentlessness, the evil that I had sensed, that had me fearing him.

I wanted to turn, to run, but I did neither, instead standing my ground and continuing to stare him in the eye, though it was a rude and disrespectful gesture for a slave to make.

“I knew that you could not be the mouse you seemed a moment ago.” His voice seemed to contain amusement, but if I listened hard enough, there was an edge of calm that was unnatural and frightening.

I said nothing, retreating into myself, pretending that only my body was there in the room. It was a way to cope that had worked for me before.

From behind me I heard the gentle splash of water from the baths that lay just beyond yet another open door. Feminine giggles followed the sounds of the wet, and within moments two women that I had never before seen returned to the couch on which Gaius sat. One had long red curls, damp from the bath, and the other a fall of raven black. Both were very young and very beautiful.

Both were high on opium, incredibly naked, and completely unashamed of it.

“I have wanted to make the acquaintance of the female gladiator who has been the darling of Rome for a very, very long time.” The man’s eyes were on me as he gestured with his hand to the women. Giggling, the one with hair the color of fire untied the fastenings of his expensive-looking toga, pulling the material away from his body, revealing his cock, which was half erect.

I still said nothing, and he purred low in his throat. I was disgusted that my lack of response seemed to have pleased him.

“We have not been formerly introduced, my dear.” Reaching over as casually as if he were plucking an apple from a tree, Gaius fisted his hand in the redhead’s hair and pulled viciously. She cried out, but it was a cry of pleasure that turned my stomach.

She went eagerly as he pulled her head down to his lap. Her rosy mouth encircled his cock and suckled him deep.

The only pleasure that he displayed was a soft smile.

My entire body began to flush with shame. I knew that something humiliating was coming, and I could do nothing to stop it.

“I wanted to meet you before formerly inviting you to participate in my games.” There were undertones in the man’s voice that I could not fully comprehend. He had something planned for me, but I could not fathom how or why.

“Enough.” Gaius spoke to the redhead as he shoved her away from his cock, hard. Reaching toward the other woman, he pulled her to his lap with rough fingers. Once she was seated on his knees, he spat into his hands, then rubbed it into the crease of her buttocks.

Nausea roiled in my belly as he pulled her back, positioned his cock, and thrust up, hard. A cry escaped from her lips, and a grunt from his, as he sheathed himself in her ass, pulled back, and thrust again.

“I hear that the men of the brotherhood fear your cunt, Lilia.” Anger washed over me, mixed in with the fear. I knew that I was being deliberately provoked, led into something, but could not see my way clearly. As always, I went with the fair answer, the only right one, for me, at least.