Gladiator

"You have a handsome body warrior," She said with admiration.

My body was already tingling from Blanka's soft fingers when she leaned against me and put her arms around my neck. My heart was pounding in my chest.

"I am a female or have you forgotten?" I asked weakly and put my brawny arms around her.

Blanka pulled back a little and gazed at me with that look. She wanted something and slowly it was dawning on me just what that was.

"I desire to be with you, like a wife with a husband," she said with yearning and ran her hands over my front causing me to moan.

It was well known in our village that sometimes women had desires for other women. They were free to pursue such interest but it was frowned upon after marriage.

Because I trained as a warrior, I was segregated from the day to day activities of women. I knew little about their world and interacted with them in a masculine way.

Blanka was breaking down that barrier by boldly expressing her want. But, with darkness gathering around us, it was imperative that we return to the village.

When we reached my lean two, I lay back on a bed of fresh straw. Blanka flung herself on top of me and tenderly licked the skin on my neck, shoulders and chest. She was fascinated with the bumps on my chest and licked them, sending shivers throughout my body.

Soon Blanka's licks turned into sucking and indescribable feelings surged over me. Her hand parted my pubic hair and a finger twirled up and down the center where Etr had forced his manhood.

I was lost in the marvelous feelings that Blanka was drawing out of me. An entire Roman legion could have attacked the village and I would not have cared.

The sensation between my legs was so intense that the urgency to urinate started to build. And, it built with enough force that I was powerless to stop it. My body shook with a sensation that was entirely new to me and I cried out with each passing upsurge.

Gradually, the feelings died out as embarrassment over my inability to keep from urinating took hold of me. With Blanka still on top of me, I felt along the straw bed for the telltale signs. Much to my surprise, I discovered that the bedding was dry.

When I confessed this to Blanka, she smiled and said it happened to her also. I fell asleep with her wrapped in my arms.

As the summer waned, Blanka was a frequent visitor to my outside living quarters. She looked after my needs with a caring that was usually reserved for a husband.

The Roman campaigns ceased and it was the most peaceful summer that I could remember. But, it was strictly temporary and patrols were spotted dangerously close to our village.

When my father died, my eldest brother became the unofficial leader of the warriors. I considered him to be too brash and reckless for the position but the male majority said otherwise.

We clashed about his proposed plans and tactics for fighting the Romans. Instead of moving the village to safer ground, he wanted to establish a defensive position and fight it out. He was abandoning our hit and run strategy; a strategy that worked to our advantage because of our much smaller fighting force.

At a warriors' council, I made my feelings known. I thought that his plan was sheer idiocy and would bring ruin to us all but I was shouted down.

"Stupid female," was yelled by half the men.

The Romans were anything but stupid and sent twelve cohorts against us on a cool autumn morning. When the second wave struck, we were overrun and retreated in the direction of the village.

About one hundred yards away from the village, we tried desperately to reestablish a defensive line but the volume of Roman attackers overwhelmed us. People in the village were running helter skelter in a vain attempt to flea but the Romans surrounded us and cut off all avenues of escape.

Small pockets of warriors fought bravely as the Romans advanced toward the center of the village. But, defeat and disaster were looming on the horizon.

I fought in a group of ten warriors near the village square. My eldest brother was next to me with a look of terror on his face. He had let the unthinkable happen and paralyzed with fear, he fell quickly as the Romans pressed forward.

I lost track of how many Romans I slew as one by one my comrades fell around me. I was fighting with all the courage and stamina I could muster until I saw the last warrior of my group fall with multiple wounds to his body.

The circle of Romans moved back as did the soldier I was fighting. Completely exhausted and demoralized by the loss of my comrades, I dropped to my knees and awaited the sword thrust that would end my life.

When none came, I looked up to see an important looking soldier walking toward me with a man in non military clothing.

"Drop your weapon and stand up!" the soldier barked at me in Latin.

Immediately, I did as requested but kept my head down.

"An impressive specimen captain; she will command a princely sum at the slave market for gladiators," the man in civilian clothing stated.

"Guard, chain her to the others," the captain ordered.

"Just a moment captain, I want her kept separate from the other women. She is not to be raped or abused by your men. It will lower her value. Do I make myself clear?" the civilian stated with authority.

Still distraught by the horrendous defeat inflicted on my people, I suddenly grasped who the civilian was and his authority over a captain in the Roman army.

He was a slave merchant who followed the armies and sold any survivors from battles into slavery. A percentage of the profit from the sale of slaves was returned to the army as a kickback. It was in the captain's best interest to comply with the slave merchants wishes as monies filtered down from the general in charge.

How did I know this? A fellow of his ilk was captured during a winter raid on a fort. He was tortured for three days before he expired but lasted long enough to tell us everything about his trade.

I was chained to five men and when I looked around I realized that was all that remained of our warriors. A terrible sadness fell over me and for the first time in a very long time, tears fell from my eyes.

For two days we walked in a driving rain until we came to a fort. I noticed a small group of women and children from the village but Blanka was not among them.

Inside the fort, we were kept under guard in the courtyard next to the soldiers' barracks. When night fell, the women were separated from the children and taken inside the barracks. In a matter of minutes, the sound of screaming and crying descended on our ears as the soldiers raped them. Young or old, the Romans made no distinction.

On several occasions we heard the guards say that another group of the vanquished was expected and then it was off to Rome. When they arrived, we could see they were from a village to the east of ours. Unfortunately, we recognized none of them.

At sunset, the new group of captive women met the same fate as ours at the hands of the Roman soldiers. I can still hear their anguished cries.

Except for a little water, small piece of hard bread and a bowl of clear soup, we were given nothing else. Under an armed guard of a hundred soldiers or better we began the march to Rome. The journey would last for three weeks and claim the lives of half those in chains.

As we marched over a hillside on the Appian Way, the city of Rome could be seen in the distance. In spite of all the hardship and sorrow that I had endured, I marveled at the sheer enormity of the metropolis.

Rome 93 AD

The throngs of people in the streets staggered the mind as we were led to the slave market. A massive oval building with a gleaming marble façade, grew larger and larger as we navigated the narrow streets. The size and scale was such that my entire village would fit inside.

At the time, I had no way of knowing the life and death struggle that the grand structure would play in my life.

We were put into crowded holding cells to await the next auction. All the comrades that I was chained to survived the journey but a terrible fate awaited us all.

The sounds and sights of the slave auction were terrifying. I watched helpless as the women and children from my village were sold one by one. The five men I was chained to were sold to different gladiatorial schools.

When I was led to the block, I tried my best to look defiant and fearless in the face of my captors. The bidding was vigorous and loud with the auctioneer desperately trying to maintain control.

When the final bid was knocked down, the crowd cheered wildly. As I was pushed to an oxcart, a guard shouted in my ear,

"Look happy slave, you've just been sold to the best gladiatorial school in Rome."

Instantly, the words of the slave merchant rang in my ears as I stood defeated before him in my village.

Two oxcarts, one with men and the other with women, moved slowly through the streets until they stopped before a high gated fence. Inside the open courtyard, two story brick buildings lined the sides. The oxcart with the men went to the right of a wood barrier and ours was directed to the left.

We were told to get out and line up according to height. A short but stout woman attired in what appeared to be some type of fighting gear walked up and down the line stopping to look at each woman.

We were assigned a number according to height; the shortest one and the tallest twelve. I was number eleven. My previous identity ceased to exist and from then on I was referred to as number eleven.

A long list of rules was barked at us and we were expected to remember them. A guard led us into a fenced area and we saw women training on various apparatus as we walked by.

Because of possible lice infection, each woman's head was shaved. In a separate room, we were told to remove all our clothing then marched down a long circular stair to a very large room filled with steaming water.

We were handed a sponge and something called soap. I followed the line into the hot water and mimicked what the others were doing. Bathing was a rarity among my people but I learned to appreciate it when Blanka washed me in the river.

Stark naked and dripping water we stood according to height in a low ceiling room waiting for someone called a physician to examine us. As he inspected each person, he made various comments and observations that were transcribed on a roll of paper by a young man.

"Number eleven," the young man called out.

"Captured in Gaul, approximately eighteen years old," the young transcriber stated to the physician.

I stood motionless in front of the physician as he looked over my body.

"Hmm...above average muscle tone," he stated and the young man scribbled something on the paper.

"Open your mouth," he ordered and spent a long time examining my teeth.

"Teeth are in good condition. No sign of infection or disease" he stated dryly.

As I lay on a stone table, the physician poked and prodded most of my body but made no comments. Finally, he examined my pubic hair very closely.

"Good, no lice. That's all," he barked and I returned to my place in line.

A clean white tunic was issued before we were seated at a communal dining area with many other women. Talking was forbidden and a punishable offence.

A thick soup with meat and vegetables was served along with bread and wine. A veritable feast by the standards of my village and I ate ravenously.

As discreetly as possible, I looked around the room and was amazed by the different varieties and types of females that lined the benches. I recognized no one from my tribe.

There was a tall, dark skinned woman with a regal bearing that intrigued me. She was seated along the far wall with a woman of similar color.

'She's beautiful," I thought to myself.

A loud whistle burst announced the end of the meal and we were marched to a dormitory with windowless rooms. One slave per room only the rooms were cells with locked doors.

The next day after a breakfast of porridge and dried fruit, all the newcomers were given a wooden sword. The basic moves and skills of gladiatorial combat were practiced with military precision until a bell rang signaling the end of practice.

The bath was filled to overflowing with sweaty females. I noticed that the water was scented with oils that were pleasing to the senses. A few women were accorded the luxury of a rubdown by the attendant slaves.

When we were seated for the evening meal, I cautiously looked for the dark skinned woman. She was seated in the same spot only this time she caught me looking. I was drawn to her but for the life of me I knew not why.

The training grew more difficult each day. A newcomer from Greece was badly injured during an exercise and a woman from Spain was whipped in front of us for disobedience. Most women cooperated and applied themselves to the training with dedication. I was among them.

At dinner, I looked for the dark beauty and she caught me every time. Sometimes, she would smile at me and while it made my heart flutter, I always looked away without smiling in return. When she ate, her movements were graceful and mannered. Compared to her, the rest of us ate like swine.

One afternoon after a grueling practice, I was finishing in the bath when I noticed the dark woman receiving a rub down. The brown skin on her back glowed from the oil the slave was kneading into her flesh. She was lean with highly defined muscles that radiated power.

She was facing away from me so I used the opportunity to linger in the bath and steal glances at her. I saw the slave attending to her whisper something in her ear. She turned her head with a smile that lit up her pretty face. My heart was beating wildly in my chest.

Our training progressed to practice combat against an opponent using our wooden swords and shields. Long days in the rain or sunshine, cold or heat were spent endlessly rehearsing the various moves then applying them with a combatant.

"Listen up slaves," our instructor barked.

"Twenty three will demonstrate the repertoire of moves that are essential for survival in the arena," she yelled.

When I saw that it was the woman with exotic brown skin, my heart skipped a beat.

I stared in total admiration at twenty three as she moved fluidly and gracefully through the different movements. Her fighting style was extremely refined and polished; far superior to my own and most of the women at the gladiatorial school.

"I need a volunteer..." the instructor bellowed.

Immediately, twenty three pointed her wooden sword at me. I was surprised and struggled to maintain a blank expression.

When I faced off with twenty three, I was mesmerized by her beauty and gazed into her vibrant dark eyes. She was taller than me but leaner. The instructor yelled for us to start, and while I knew I was hopelessly outclassed, I gave it my all.

With an economy of movement, twenty three blocked each sword thrust and parry with nimble agility. As I grew more frustrated, I forgot the discipline that I had been taught and brought my raw power to bear.

With amazing swiftness, twenty three's wooden sword fell against my neck in what assuredly would have been a death blow. The lesson was over.

As the instructor droned on about the fatal consequences of abandoning our skills during a fight, twenty three was staring at me with a smoldering expression. We were breathing heavily from our exertions and my body was tingling with a familiar sensation.

That evening, as I lay on my bed, my door was unlocked and it shocked me. When we were placed in our cells at night, the doors remained locked until morning.

"Number eleven, follow me," the guard commanded.

We went up a staircase and down a long corridor, stopping in front of a door similar to mine. The guard opened it and pushed me inside. Much to my astonishment, twenty three was seated on her bed with a mercurial smile on her beautiful face.

Earlier, I heard a soldier assigning companions both male and female to the women scheduled to fight in the arena tomorrow. I knew twenty three was fighting...the realization slowly sank into my head.

I stood motionless in front of twenty three as her intense gaze bore into me. Suddenly, I felt shy in her presence and lowered my head. Never in my years as a warrior did I blush, show bashfulness or weakness of any kind to another person. Yet, here I was acting like the village virgin in front of this strikingly sensual woman.

When twenty three spoke it startled me. Talking was forbidden in the school and except for whispered conversations in the bath, was strictly enforced.

"You are surprised?" she asked in a lilting voice of heavily accented Latin.

I nodded my reply, too afraid to speak. Twenty three gestured for me to sit next to her. When I did so, the intoxicating smell of oils from the bath entered my nose.

The close proximity to twenty three was like drinking too much wine. I felt light headed but shifted my gaze up to her face.

"She's even more beautiful up close," I thought to myself.

Twenty three's brown skin was flawless; her dark eyes sparkled with curiosity but there was some sadness in them as well. Her black shiny hair was cut short and looked like a tightly woven basket.

"You're beautiful," I stated in a gushing voice and hoped I used the appropriate Latin word.

Twenty three smiled broadly and laughed. My anger started to rise because I thought she was mocking me.

"So, you think I'm fat," she said in a chuckling voice.

Quickly I realized my mistake and blurted out the correct word. Twenty three's demeanor changed and she looked at me with those intense dark eyes. My insides were churning with desire from her gaze.

"I am glad you chose me" I said humbly and looked away.

Twenty three gently pulled my chin so that I was looking directly at her. She moved closer and grazed her warm soft lips over one cheek and then the other. A warm prickly sensation washed over my body and I involuntarily moaned.

Twenty three held me in her muscular arms and brought her sensuous lips to my neck. As they glided over the sensitive skin, her tongue tip added an entirely new feeling.

My body was fiery with passion when twenty three pulled my tunic up and over my head. Her hands caressed my body with a skill inherited from the gods.

When her fingers reached the scar on my belly, they traced along the length with incredible delicacy.

"You were a warrior among your people," she stated without surprise as though she already knew.

"Yes...umm..." I answered in a breathless voice and moaned.

Twenty three's fingers slowly rubbed the center between my legs and strong sensations rushed through my body.

Gasping and moaning from the intense pleasure twenty three accorded me, I experienced the overwhelming feeling of peeing myself but realized that it was the new and wonderful sensation that I had enjoyed with Blanka.

As the feeling went away, I was at a loss as to what I should do for her.

"Why do you look unhappy?" she asked with annoyance.

"I do not know how to please a woman," I answered with shame for my inexperience.

Twenty three laughed in a most charming way.

"In due time, my fiery Gaul; I will teach you all that I know. Now, I must rest," she said in a soothing voice.

As twenty three tenderly embraced me, I gazed at her peaceful looking face.

"How did you come to be here?" I asked innocently.

Twenty three's face changed as a shadow of pain passed over it.

"It is a sad story. My father was king of my people. When I was in my fifteenth year, the Roman's came to my country. Many were killed by the soldiers and many were taken as slaves.

The Romans made my father swear an oath of loyalty. He was to pay money every year to them. If he paid this money, he could be king. But, they don't trust my father. The soldiers take me, my sister and my brother to Rome. We are made to live in a small house with soldiers always watching.