saliva down her bronzed skin, stopping long enough to take a
hardened nipple into her mouth. Petronia cried out in ecstasy as the girl bit
down, making Petronia’s whole body arch off the bed. What new technique was
this she wondered as the pain subsided? She wanted more, but the slave girl had
other plans. Petronia almost kicked the girl in a knee jerk reaction when
tongue replaced fingers. If she thought the girl was good with her hand, it was
nothing compared to her lips on her lips and her tongue on her clit. It was so
good it should be illegal she thought to herself while she was still capable of
thought.
Soon
wave after waves of orgasms soared through her body until she was spent. She
fell asleep with the girl in her arms and her breath on her cheek. What a
glorious experience that was!
* * * * *
CHAPTER TWELVE:
Dangerously Bored
* * * * *
Petronia
continued to mourn the loss of her friend Albinia, and welcomed days of hard
training because the only thing that could make her forget. As she worked over
the wooden practice dummy waiting for a sparring partner to free up, she
recalled how her training had progressed. Initially she had always been paired
with the worst of the gladiators, the ones not worth the effort to train. But
as she began to beat them, Doctore began partnering her up with a better and
better class of fighter until she finally was sparring against the best they
had; and she was usually kicking their asses. Now she was back with the worst
fighters, but now in a different role. She was paired with them so they could
learn from her; and she soon found she had plenty to teach them.
She
relished her days in the Ludis. When she had blades in her hands was the only
time she actually felt alive. Her gladius’ became extensions of herself and it
was the most natural thing in the world. This morning she was paired against
two newer slaves and who had come into the Ludis full of attitude. It was their
belief Petronia wasn’t worth their best effort. She had been tasked with
proving to them she was better than their best efforts combined.
As
they pressed their attack Petronia forced them to break up their footwork and
to get into each other’s way. Doctore watched as his lone female gladiator
(gladiatrix) accurately predicted the two men’s attack, and forced them to
abandon a combined assault. As she countered with her own attack them were she
was so fast it was like being set upon by several attackers at once and not one
female slave. Doctore ducked as a wooden practice sword flew out of the hands
of one of Petronia’s opponent. He jumped back out of reach wringing his injured
hand. He other opponent took his place, pressing his attack, hoping his sheer
size and strength would be enough to make her pay. Petronia laughed to herself.
Every move the gladiator made he telegraphed it. As he stepped in to close the
distance with her, she delivered a powerful kick to his sternum with the heel
of her foot and he went sprawling on his but in the one of the many puddles
that littered the courtyard.
It
had scarcely stopped raining since she had witnessed her best friends sacrifice
in the arena nearly a week ago. Most of the citizens of Savona believed the
rain was a direct result of Petronia’s broken heart. Some went so far as to
believe that if she could just be happy again, or at least forget, the sun
would return to dry up the land. Dominus must have believed the same thing
because he kept sending gifts to Petronia in the way of food, breaks from
training, and an occasional slave to be her plaything, but none of these things
made her happy or even lifted her heart even a little. No amount of fucking,
however spectacular would bring back her friend. The one thing she believed
would help was so far removed from possibilities that she rarely entertained
the thought. One day she would make the Praetor pay with his life for the
sentencing of her friend Albinia. But the Praetor seldom came to
hardened nipple into her mouth. Petronia cried out in ecstasy as the girl bit
down, making Petronia’s whole body arch off the bed. What new technique was
this she wondered as the pain subsided? She wanted more, but the slave girl had
other plans. Petronia almost kicked the girl in a knee jerk reaction when
tongue replaced fingers. If she thought the girl was good with her hand, it was
nothing compared to her lips on her lips and her tongue on her clit. It was so
good it should be illegal she thought to herself while she was still capable of
thought.
Soon
wave after waves of orgasms soared through her body until she was spent. She
fell asleep with the girl in her arms and her breath on her cheek. What a
glorious experience that was!
* * * * *
CHAPTER TWELVE:
Dangerously Bored
* * * * *
Petronia
continued to mourn the loss of her friend Albinia, and welcomed days of hard
training because the only thing that could make her forget. As she worked over
the wooden practice dummy waiting for a sparring partner to free up, she
recalled how her training had progressed. Initially she had always been paired
with the worst of the gladiators, the ones not worth the effort to train. But
as she began to beat them, Doctore began partnering her up with a better and
better class of fighter until she finally was sparring against the best they
had; and she was usually kicking their asses. Now she was back with the worst
fighters, but now in a different role. She was paired with them so they could
learn from her; and she soon found she had plenty to teach them.
She
relished her days in the Ludis. When she had blades in her hands was the only
time she actually felt alive. Her gladius’ became extensions of herself and it
was the most natural thing in the world. This morning she was paired against
two newer slaves and who had come into the Ludis full of attitude. It was their
belief Petronia wasn’t worth their best effort. She had been tasked with
proving to them she was better than their best efforts combined.
As
they pressed their attack Petronia forced them to break up their footwork and
to get into each other’s way. Doctore watched as his lone female gladiator
(gladiatrix) accurately predicted the two men’s attack, and forced them to
abandon a combined assault. As she countered with her own attack them were she
was so fast it was like being set upon by several attackers at once and not one
female slave. Doctore ducked as a wooden practice sword flew out of the hands
of one of Petronia’s opponent. He jumped back out of reach wringing his injured
hand. He other opponent took his place, pressing his attack, hoping his sheer
size and strength would be enough to make her pay. Petronia laughed to herself.
Every move the gladiator made he telegraphed it. As he stepped in to close the
distance with her, she delivered a powerful kick to his sternum with the heel
of her foot and he went sprawling on his but in the one of the many puddles
that littered the courtyard.
It
had scarcely stopped raining since she had witnessed her best friends sacrifice
in the arena nearly a week ago. Most of the citizens of Savona believed the
rain was a direct result of Petronia’s broken heart. Some went so far as to
believe that if she could just be happy again, or at least forget, the sun
would return to dry up the land. Dominus must have believed the same thing
because he kept sending gifts to Petronia in the way of food, breaks from
training, and an occasional slave to be her plaything, but none of these things
made her happy or even lifted her heart even a little. No amount of fucking,
however spectacular would bring back her friend. The one thing she believed
would help was so far removed from possibilities that she rarely entertained
the thought. One day she would make the Praetor pay with his life for the
sentencing of her friend Albinia. But the Praetor seldom came to
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