The Gladiatrix

Gerulf deviously considered how Manius was seeking new female fighters, but also how Manius never allowed female fighters to battle in a serious fashion as he found it distasteful. Thus he told his virtuous lie, "Why not have her fight in the arena? That is the place to teach disloyal men and women a lesson. If the girl thinks she is so strong would it not amuse you to see if she can try to do to a lion what she tried to do to Pyreneus?"

Amelia's eyes widened, "Yes! See how she likes it when a lion eats her! But the money..."

"Ten fights, and then you will have made a healthy profit. This I promise you, and I promise you that she will regret leaving your prestigious pleasure establishment for a life of quarrelling with wild beasts." Gerulf thought of the beasts that Manius liked female fighters to battle- ostriches, peacocks and hippos- not quite the wild beasts one considered to be a mortal danger.

Amelia sighed, "But what if she dies before I am fully compensated?"

"I am sure Manius will compensate you somehow." That was also a lie, Gerulf felt it unlikely that Manius would compensate Amelia, for Manius despised her.

Amelia looked uncertainly at Gerulf, "So, what next? I suppose I must ask my patron to speak to Manius, draw up some sort of contract." Amelia's patron was a rather pathetic old man and former client who was infatuated with Amelia and served her every whim, effectively reversing the meaning of master and slave. Amelia had met him when she was enslaved as a prostitute, he had purchased her from her pimp at extortionate sums and freed her.

"You do that, and leave her to me. She will stay in my apartment tonight and then I shall take her to the gladiator school tomorrow . Manius owes me a favour, so perhaps this could be it."

"Very well, though Gerulf, if she escapes or does not fight for every match she is eligible I will kill all the girls in this house to teach them a lesson as to why not to escape."

Gerulf replied nervously, "And you think dead women will learn anything?"

"Perhaps not, but the fresh batch of girls I will purchase will learn something when I order them to cut the throats of the women they will replace. I know why you are doing this Gerulf. Perhaps you think you are a hero, but there was a reason you came to my brothel tonight, and it was not to perform some noble rescue. If I was you I would tie up her wrists before you leave with her, just in case."

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Meda felt relief as, with her wrists tied up once again, she was led into the night and away from the horrible place where they were going to scalp her. She knew not what the people that she had encountered were capable of, it was a new land, where the people conducted their lives in ways she had never imagined. Still, she allowed herself to relax slightly, as she had seen the man who was now leading her through the night defend her, and prevented her injury at the hands of the woman in the orange tunic. She could also see from his earnest visage that it was unlikely he would do anything too strange, too horrible to her. She could now refocus on her escape efforts.

However, gazing at her captor's imposing form perversely assuaged her desire to escape his company with desperate urgency. Even though she had never seen someone so pale with such straight hair that was as yellow as wheat she still found him attractive. He was very muscular and tall, and was not so much older than her. If he bought her for the purpose of pleasure then Meda felt she could endure such a fate.

He looked back at her and smiled, his blue eyes twinkling even in the night. He said something to her, in a relaxed and gentle voice.

"Where are we going?" she asked, emboldened by the man's manner. He looked at her, unable to understand her and smiled politely. Meda sighed, at least she had met one man who understood her language, it gave her hope that there might be others, and they would aid her in absconding.

Meda wondered what was at her destination as her sandals slapped against the cobbled pavement. It was a long walk, but when they finally arrived her heart gladdened. It was a tall brick building five storeys high, and seemed to be a place where people lived.

A watchman swathed in cloak and blanket sat next to the door and nodded at them, gurning his toothless mouth as he rubbed a slender dog curled up next to him. The watchman handed her captor a key. They walked into a courtyard with many stairs leading to various levels. Eventually her captor meandered up a flight of stairs; Small oil lamps in the nooks of the wall lit their path.

On the third floor was a balcony overlooking the small courtyard in the centre. They wandered towards the door closest to the stairs. By the door was an oil lamp on the floor which her captor picked up by its handle, still artfully clutching the rope that bound her. His door appeared to have a padlock, which he opened with the key the watchman had handed to him. Then, stepping through the door and into the dark room, he used the oil lamp to light four other oil lamps in his very small room.

The man turned to her and said something. He kept pointing to himself, "Gerulf. Gerulf."

Meda muttered it back to herself until it sounded right. He nodded and walked in the room. In the centre of the room appeared to be a table with a mattress on it, which Meda guessed was for resting. The man pointed to it, "Bed."

He then led her to another small room, and opened the door briefly before closing it swiftly, "Waste."

Meda muttered these words back to herself.

They turned back into the main room. From across the bed there was a very small table, four clay vases, a large bowl with water with a large wooden spoon, two wooden chests and that was it. But compared to the colourful excess of the brothel its minimal furnishings reassured her. A warm Mediterranean breeze passed through the small square openings in the wall.

Meda had already been bathed down earlier with water and oil, after having had her pubic hair removed with some strange stinging substance in the brothel's salon. However she wondered how she would keep clean in the days to come. Was there a river close by where others bathed? Would she have to bathe in front of the man?

She decided to check that the name he had referred to himself earlier was indeed his name, "Gerulf." She said.

He looked at her and smiled, saying to her surprise "Meda." She forgot that he knew her name already, until she remembered this was the name she gave to the Nubian trader she had spoken to at the auction block, which was how Gerulf had come to know it.

She smiled and said again, more boldly, "Gerulf." Her eyes skimming his large body.

"Meda." He repeated, though his voice was lower, huskier. His eyes also dropped assessing her frame clad in just a threadbare tunic.

She smiled at him, even in the dimness of the night she could see the rise of his hardening manhood through the swathes of his toga, but to her own surprise she felt no trepidation. Despite her terrible situation, or maybe because of it, she felt drawn to her new captor. Even in her village where athleticism was prized it was rare to see one who looked so strong, and his exotic alien features excited the curiosity her mother had encouraged her to cultivate.

He then did something odd, but she decided to trust him, for he tied the end of the rope he was holding to her foot. She frowned in suspicion; if he proved untrustworthy she planned to stab him with a shard of broken pottery that she had managed to hide in the hem of her tunic.

He then untied her hands and taking one end of the rope tied it to his own foot, effectively tying her ankle to his own, but with plenty of rope between them for freedom of movement. Meda stretched out her hands and rubbed her wrists, sore from the friction of the rope.

He said something to her too quickly for her to understand. She cocked her head to one side in confusion.

Gerulf then said it again, even quicker. Her hands free, Meda did something that was perfectly normal amongst her people. She approached him and placed her hand to his mouth, which was a playful insult in her village if people spoke too quickly. She felt his surprisingly soft lips, warm breath and then he took her wrist and kissed her palm, he then continued to kiss her, his kisses travelling up her wrist. There was a hungry passion in his kisses.

Meda moaned as Gerulf's fingers brushed the skin of her wrist. His kisses travelled higher and higher until they met her shoulder. She closed her eyes and whimpered as his hands then caressed the length of her back before finding her bottom. Tentatively, he lifted up her tunic and squeezed, kneading her exposed derriere in his large, warm hands. The mound of his hardening cock brushed her thigh as his kisses found her mouth. Meda expected a light kiss upon the lips but then he did something that shocked and thrilled her both in equal measure, he slipped his tongue between her lips. Meda broke her head away from the kiss in surprise as this was not how people in her village kissed.

She looked at him, his hand still possessively cupping her bottom. She felt dizzy and her heart pumped speedily from the shock of it.

Oh Amesemi! What exotic courtship customs there are here, Meda thought.

Gerulf also muttered something back and lowered his head, almost guiltily. He allowed his hands to drop, breaking the physical contact. But as he turned Meda realised that he thought she did not desire him. Despite that Gerulf was the one with the power and control he had considered how she felt. Meda suddenly desired him more because of this for she understood that at least for that moment, she was as free to choose him as he was to choose her.

She grabbed his thick wrist and pulled him in. He gazed at her, his eyes lighting up. He said something to her and then kissed her forehead. She placed her hands on his strong chest and met his gaze, wondering how this man could be so physically strong. She decided to try his strange way of kissing by awkwardly pressing her lips against his own, and then tentatively slipping her tongue between his lips. He moaned and placed his hands back on her bottom, and squeezed again, pulling her in more roughly as their tongues intertwined. He was evidentially not a naturally gentle lover, but this excited Meda even more.

His hands met her hair, which was in twists and gently pulled her head back, he admired the beautiful contours of her face and playfully mumbled, "Meda, Meda, Meda." He chuckled before he swooped in for another kiss.

Meda could feel her cunt grow wet from sheer desire for him, a desire that practically made her body ache, intermingling with the ache she felt for her homeland, her mother, the life she left. She ran her hands through his straight golden hair, as his own fingers explored her own twisted kinky locks.

A small gust of air swept in through the window and snuffed out one of the flames of a lamp. Gerulf pulled away from her, said something to himself and then running his fingers through his hair, he walked towards his chest, and opened it. Meda stood their breathless and curious as to what he was doing. He pulled out two tunics and threw one towards Meda which she caught. She felt puzzled, what were the man's intentions? Did they now differ from her own?

He then turned his back towards her whilst she watched as he removed his toga, and placed it within the second chest. With his back turned Meda drunk in the sheer beauty of his body, which was nearly as pale as the moonlight, and glimpsed the arched rise of his cock. But she also saw scars upon his back and legs, enflaming her curiosity as he placed a simple blue tunic on. Meda deduced that the man was changing his clothes from those he would wear during the day, to those he would wear in the night and was giving her his spare tunic as he expected her to do the same.

Gerulf turned, catching her wide-eyed gaze of his body; he walked up towards her, his lips tipping into a lazy smile. He tugged from her grip the tunic he had thrown her and placed it upon the bed. He then pulled the tunic she was wearing up over her head without any resistance on her part, so she was standing nude before him.

He placed his pale hands upon her dark breasts, smoothing over them and then strummed the thick ebony nipples with his thumbs back and forth until the nubs were stiff peaks. He groaned throatily, enthralled by his own actions. Meda moaned in encouragement, and arched her back.

He spoke to her in a low sweet voice. She did not need to understand his language to understand his meaning. He desired her, his eyes drunk in the faint light within the room and illuminated back pure undiluted lust.

Squeezing her breasts possessively Gerulf pulled her against him and kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose. He lowered his head and kissed her neck, focusing on the spot under her jaw. She whimpered from sheer pleasure as her clitoris throbbed, urging for more.

Meda ran her fingers through his hair, trying to capture the sensation that eluded her like the sleek strands of his thick blond locks.

With his cock pressed against her thigh, Meda traced her fingers across the thin cloth that veiled it. One hand left her breast and he mirrored her actions, his large fingers brushing her naked mons teasingly, skimming above her cunt-lips. Meda looked upon his face and traced her fingers along Gerulf's jaw and then his lips. Her fingers lingered particularly upon his lips, he smiled, exhaling from strained patience and gently bit the tip of her finger mischievously.

She grinned back, and teasingly lifted the hem of his tunic with her fingers. She placed her fingers lightly upon the tip of his cock, feeling dizzy from her own boldness as she felt it's wet bulbous tip.

Gerulf inhaled sharply and playfully mirrored her actions, his fingers dipping from her mons to the wet lips of her cunt, guided by the moistness. Gerulf rubbed, back and forth, spreading her moistness. Meda closed her eyes relishing the sensation as he caressed the bud of her clit.

She tugged at his cock, rubbing the bead of pre-cum across the shaft. His length was hard, and yet moved like fine silk upon her palm. Gerulf began to kiss her again, so hungrily he bruised her lips. His tongue danced against her own, as his fingers danced against her cunt, pulling Meda into a sensation of pleasure so compelling it threatened to overwhelm her.

She tugged his cock more firmly, increasing her strokes. They moaned and murmured, their senses like a musky smoke of incense, intermingling and rising. He fucked her palm, his strong muscular thighs tensing and relaxing as his pale cock pumped in and out of the small fist of her dusky hand.

He looked upon her and with one final tug he groaned animalistically; she could feel his cock squirt its hot cream upon her hand. He closed his eyes and moaned as his cock stilled and softened in her grasp, and yet he kept rubbing her clit, more insistently, until she too felt her cunt tighten and then finally became overwhelmed with an orgasmic wave.

She cried out his name, "Gerulf!"

Awash with sensations that made her whole body tremble, her legs trembled and her body pulsed with life.

When everything was still, and she could catch her breath she looked up at him. He was gazing down upon her with emotions she could not quite interpret. He kissed her forehead tenderly and smiled at her. He then held her hand and led her to the bowl of water at the other side of the room. Taking a scoop with the wooden spoon he then helped her wash her hands outside the small window. Afterwards, he affectionately helped her into the oversized tunic he had given her for sleep.

He blew out all the lamps except one, which he then picked up and placed on a stand next to the bed. He patted the bed. Meda laid upon it tentatively, her heart still racing even as the lamp dimmed. He climbed onto the bed, and laid next to her, his chest against her back.

As they lay side by side, he blew out the lit lamp so that only a thin stream of moonlight coated the room with the faintest glimmer. Never before had she known such sensuous pleasures. Her nipples and cunt were still tingling from his touch. She wondered what he was feeling, and if he felt the same way.

Gerulf's arm was wrapped around her waist, and the flat of his large palm was pressed against Meda's belly. Meda wriggled a little against him as she found the bed extremely uncomfortable and dared not to move for fear of falling off. It had clearly not been designed for more than one person.

Still for the first time in many days Meda felt like a normal human being. The confusion, the fear and the anger were not clouding her as much. For that night at least, in the arms of another, she would sleep. Her desire to escape weakened, for the moment at least.

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Gerulf lay awake, aware of Meda's curvy body pressed against his own hardness, in every sense of the word. He was completely aroused and excited by his seductive, exotic companion, and yet, it was a folly to follow his natural instinct for she was very vulnerable. More so, he did not know how she would feel once she knew of the life he had engineered for her in the arena. However, he was sure that her situation as a fighter would be a happier one than she would have faced in Venus Kisses.

What slave would not feel relief that their days would be occupied with sport, that their greatest danger would be from creatures so amusing, as in the case of hippos and ostriches that the gods surely created them for comedy? Meda would be well-fed, treated better than most slaves, and more importantly, would be in close proximity to him whilst he worked as a gladiator trainer in Manius's gladiator school.

Gerulf closed his eyes, feeling more confident that the arrangement was the best for Meda.

But if Manius realises how I feel for her, I wonder...unfortunately he was enveloped within the realm of sleep before he could complete his thought. Had he done so he might have recalled that Manius was a possessive man and the man who would ultimately decide Meda's fate in the arena.