(In London, (England) just south of the river Thames a high status Roman grave was excavated in the late 1990's. Unusually for such a high status grave it was placed outside the main graveyard where dignitaries would be buried. Therefore it would appear that the occupant although wealthy and respected stood outside mainstream society. A number of the gravegoods were lamps decorated with Gladiatorial scenarios. A Gladiator could be well respected and wealthy, but as a slave was not a member of mainstream society. The final twist came when the bone fragments were analysed by a Forensic Pathologist, one of the fragments came from the pelvis and had a "notch" - the occupant of the grave had been female! Archaeology can tell us no more about this woman her life can only be speculation, I wanted to write about the last day of her life.)
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Juliana awoke from the dream. Once again she had been caught by the faceless retiarri's net, enmeshed in its disabling folds. As always she had awoken screaming as the retiarri's trident had been about to pierce her body.
Her scream awoke her companion. "Shut up whore!" The bloated merchant Carrodus mumbled as he rubbed sleep from his eyes.
"Whore! Whore who do you think that you are talking to?" Her blue eyes flashed angrily. "You sleep with Juliana the only Gladiatrix in Brittanicus and you dare to call her a whore. A common meretrice you can find in any lupar. Such a woman, a fornices would cost you no more than five sesterces. To bed me a man like you gives many gifts of gold and promises more to the Gods." She wanted to comment on his corpulent slug-like body that oozed of grease, but she did not for there was more gold to be extracted from this man.
"I was talking in my sleep." Carrodus excused himself, his eyes fixed on her body as she rose from the pallet. She stretched modelling her limbs in the shaft of golden sunlight that penetrated horizontally through the ill fitting shutters. The light sparkled in her copper blonde hair. Glanced off the defined muscle tone of her exercise honed arms. As she stood and flexed her lithe legs the light lit that tantalising spot where the triangle of tightly curled burning hair terminated.
She went over and opened the shutters. As she returned to the bed, he could not see the distaste on her features, the light was behind her casting her face and firm breasts into a shadow. Her head surrounded by a halo of burning gold. She climbed back onto the pallet, pulled the covers from him and straddled his body. She knelt legs astride of his legs.
She reached for the small earthenware bottle. Tipped some of its contents into her hand, then set about anointing his stubby penis with the slippery olive oil. The motions of her hand stirred him from a lazy morning arousal into a full-blown raging erection that pulsed its message of desire. His senses that had been dulled by the previous night's wine were now fully focused. Sheer lust dominated his thoughts.
To possess a woman like Juliana was at that moment his only goal. His wife, his children, his slaves, his wealth meant nothing to him compared to his desire to tame this proud fighting woman with his penis.
Last night she had bowed her head and taken it in her mouth, something even his slave women would never do. Her tongue had done most marvellous things to it, curling around the sensitive head, moving its tip in a circular motion as if she was polishing the glans. With a hint of adrenaline producing menace trailing her sharp teeth along the stem as if she might castrate him with her sharp teeth. The memories spurred his heart, heated blood coursed into his already engorged member causing it to grow.
Satisfied he was adequately lubricated she reached between her legs smearing the last of the oil on her anus. She moved up so her legs straddled his hips. Grasping his cockstem she guided it as she lowered herself onto him.
There was a moment of pain as he entered her. Pain preferable to that caused by the abortionist. She had endured the pain of one terminated pregnancy and had no intention of going through the experience again. She was aware that there were various decoctions that were said to prevent pregnancy, but she knew none was effective as anal intercourse.
As she slowly slid down his erect prick, he gave thanks to Priapus for the steeliness of his erection and to Venus for the perfection of her body. Her ass seemed to slide onto his throbbing cock like a well-fitted glove. Each time she tensed her muscles the pressure squeezing prick so hard that brought sharp stabs of pain that before they hurt transformed into pure ecstasy. Never before had a woman drawn him so slowly, yet so thoroughly towards a cataclysmic sexual climax, as this woman had with her mouth and her ass. Each time she had made him cum it had been more intense than he had ever known before - it was so unique that he felt as if he had never had sex before.
Now she had slid down, until the full length of his stubby prick was embedded in her. No longer moving, she was using her muscles to set up wave like rippling squeezes that rippled along the length of his cock. It was as if a Python had wound itself around his erection. "Do you like this? I am going to milk every drop of spunk from your balls. Do you feel it being pumped along the length of your priapus?"
"Yes! Oh yes."
She fingered the heavy links of the gold chain that hung around her neck. "Am I worth this gift?"
"Yes Juliana oh yes!"
"And when you have cum when this proud member is shrivelled and like a snail has curled into it's shell will you still think I am worth it?"
"You will always be worth it. Don't stop I'm cumming."
She responded by lifting herself sliding up his prick until only the head remained within her then relaxing her tensed leg muscles slid down the length as his Vesuvian climax splattered into her.
"Will you spend tonight with me?"
She shivered his question brought back her dream. Would she survive. Would she again leave the arena victorious. Would the Gods be with her tonight, or would she be fated to be carried off by Charron. "How can I say, I don't know. Soon I must go to the Ludi, this afternoon I shall be in the arena."
The thought of her in the arena stirred his prick back into life. The fact that this woman was dangerous a killer with the blood of men stained on her hands gave him vicarious pleasure. Along with thousands of others he had watched her in the arena. She was a Dimachaeri displaying her ambidextrous skills by wielding a razor sharp dagger in each hand. Her only armour was her speed and agility.
Like a tumbler she would cartwheel away from her heavily armoured opponents. Like a deadly snake she would probe her opponents looking for a weakness. Every man sitting in the tiered seats cheering her on to victory would be lusting after her scantily clad body. After the contest men would be queuing to pay court to her, bribing the men who guarded the entrances to the Gladiators' area. She accepted the gifts showered upon her, and she would deign to be wined and dined by one of these admirers. Occasionally if the gifts were of sufficiently high value she might return to her escort's home.
The female acrobats hated her popularity. Hated that she would be given gifts of far greater value than they could ever expect to be given.
The gifts Carrodus had lavished upon her had cost almost all the profits of this trading trip. He would return to Rome with no increase in his wealth. Normally a prudent man he had fallen under the spell of this proudly independent woman. He knew that she would throw him off like an old sandal when he could no longer afford the gifts. The chain around her neck, the most recent of a number of gifts would have purchased ten female slaves. But he was unable to resist her magnetic attractions.
He felt so good. He was the little fat man who had never killed anyone, who had never lain a violent hand upon anyone had tamed a killer with his muscular weapon. He wanted her to return with him tonight when she still stank of the spilled blood of her defeated opponent. Maybe, if he asked her nicely, if he pleaded with her she would not bathe after the contest. He would like that taking her whilst her skin still tasted of the arena's dust, the blood of her opponent and her sweat. He reckoned his cock would be larger than ever.
Since the first time she had appeared in the arena Juliana had been aware of her status. That first time when a mere captive from Bodica's ill-fated rebellion, she had been put up to fight three male captives. She had entered the arena untrained, unarmoured, equipped only with a Gladius. Her opponents on that occasion had no weapons other than superior numbers. All four knew that the last one still standing might live the others were destined to die.
It had been scripted as a sex show. The men had been instructed to disarm her, strip her and use her for the entertainment of the people. She had not read the script. The first man died in a bloody fountain, when her slashing blow cut his jugular vein. The men became more cautious circling trying to get behind her, unwilling to close with her weapon. One tired she disabled his leg, cutting his hamstring. The third she chased around the arena until he was exhausted. His end was slow when she spitted him with the Gladius ramming the point through his guts.
