Seduced by the Gladiator by Lauren Hawkeye

the man’s angular face showed displeasure that I had disobeyed his earlier order, I saw that he breathed more easily, and the ruddiness faded from his face. He said nothing, instead wiping the sweat from his palms on the lap of his tunic, so I knew that I had been spared punishment.
    He waited, his tall figure casting a long shadow on the ground. I realized that he wished for me to answer his question.
    “I do not.” The dominus nodded, his expression troubled. I wished that I knew what it mattered to him—that I knew why he had brought me here, to the market.
    What did he so badly need to show me?
    Tiring of the game, I lifted my face to stare directly into the eyes of the man who owned me. He might punish me for my impudence, pet or not, but I thought I brought enough coin to his house to be excused my forwardness. “My dominus, apologies for being abrupt, but enough. What is it that you wish to show me?”
    He narrowed his eyes at my forwardness, but did not scold me. He did not answer immediately, instead gesturing with his hand for me to follow him, then snaking his way through the vendors of the market.
    I followed as best I could, through the throngs of people, the jug of wine clasped tightly in my arms. At the end of the line of vendors was an alley, a slender corridor of rock between homes. Here the dominus turned, walking briskly to the end, where some activity was taking place.
    He paused in the group of men, gesturing for me to move to stand beside him. Still puzzled by the trouble that I read on his face, I watched him for a long moment before realizing what he was looking at.
    The dominus was staring thoughtfully at a line of slaves who stood against a wall of stone, hands and feet chained together and to one another to prevent escape. Ten men and two women, all were naked, what could be seen of their skin beneath the streaks of dirt the sickly hue of the malnourished. Businessmen strode back and forth in front of the line, looking in mouths, fondling genitals, pulling hair.
    It had not been so many years ago that I had stood in their place, a ware to be hawked to the highest bidder. I shuddered when the thought came that, despite events that had occurred when I first came to the ludus, I had been lucky in the man who had purchased me—my dominus.
    I could have been purchased by a brothel, where my tits and cunt would have fetched a price. I could have been sold to a master who beat me and fucked me when he felt like it. If no one had wanted me, I could have been taken to the pits , where I would have lived another year, perhaps two, before exhaustion and starvation combined to kill me.
    Instead, I was famous in Rome and had plenty of coin to my name. I might have been locked inside the walls of the ludus—I may have been forced to kill in the arena in order to preserve my own life.
    It could have been much, much worse.
    I struggled to swallow these thoughts, returning my attention to the dominus and the line of slaves.
    “Tell me, Lilia. Do you see potential in any of these slaves?” I could barely see over the jug of wine in my arms, but I felt that I must answer correctly, or disappoint my master. Stepping closer to the line of slaves, I squinted at each in turn, taking note of the manner in which the experienced businessmen treated them. All of the slaves looked sickly, and none seemed to be causing excitement or starting a bidding war.
    “I do not.” I bit my lip until I tasted blood. Did the dominus intend to acquire yet more men for the ludus? Our cells were nearly full as it was.
    The dominus chuckled, but it was a sound that was hollow and without mirth. I had not answered correctly.
    “Do you see that man at the end, the tall one?” A strand of yellow came loose from my long tail and fell into my eyes, and I huffed at it with my breath. The man in question was larger than the others, and was pulling at his chains with murder and bloody vengeance in his eyes. The tattoo of a Roman soldier