Sold to the Gladiators Read online

  The girl was in chains and shackled about the ankles and wrists. She had long black hair and darkly pitted eyes. However, her skin was pale. She had little opportunity to enjoy sunlight. Perhaps no more than twenty years, she would not reach Felix’s shoulders if she stood next to him. Rufus was bold. He stared at her with obvious longing. So quickly did his companion find women pleasing to the eye. Felix had promised the gods he would wait, and so he must.

  “For what is she being punished?” he asked Atticus.

  “Theft. Food from the kitchen. She handed it out to the beggars who plague the south gate. She was told not to do it.” Atticus continued to recline on his couch and picked at the bunch of grapes. Those grapes, Felix guessed, had taken a long journey to reach the fort. Lucky man.

  “So, she stole.” Felix had met many thieves in the arena. He had little sympathy for those men condemned to die. Unlike them, he had been enslaved through war. He’d not chosen the life of a gladiator, but neither had he seen it as an excuse to complain. He’d rather fight than serve at the feet of another man.

  “She stole.” Atticus snorted. “Even if it was waste for the pigs.”

  Rufus stirred. “Scraps?”

  Atticus nodded and spat out a pip. “The leftovers. The pigs need to be fed.”

  “It was for the children,” she shrilled. “You feed your hounds better.”

  Atticus’s eyes popped open and he leapt to his feet, crossed the floor, and slapped her face. “See,” he raged, turning to Felix, “the insolence I have to put up with.”

  The girl’s head recoiled with the force of the blow. However, she brought it back with a look of brazen defiance. She risked much for a few scraps of food, thought Felix.

  Across the room, Rufus’s hands had formed fists. The young man had a hard exterior and a soft heart. Felix shot him a warning glance. They couldn’t afford to upset Atticus.

  Atticus returned to his seat. “She should be flogged…” the commander smirked, “although, perhaps we need a little entertainment.”

  Rufus raised his eyebrows. “Entertainment?”

  “Punished by a gladiator seems a fitting consequence for a slave.”

  “I’m a Rudiarius, a freed gladiator,” said Felix beneath his breath. In his baggage was his Rudius—a wooden sword given to him during the ceremony.

  “Would not a firm, hard hand on her ass teach her not to steal?” Atticus persisted. “My gift to you, great Hercules.”

  Rufus glanced at Felix, then at the girl. Her eyes were widening into moons, the whites visible from where he sat.

  “I decide how much she bears,” Felix stated clearly.

  Atticus frowned. The commander liked power. How cruel was he? An old man by the standards of a soldier, probably in his forties and likely to be retired soon. If he had a wife, he’d not mentioned her. A spectator, then. Felix knew how to handle an audience; however, he couldn’t afford to displease his host.

  “I would ensure she is well spanked. She is not my first,” Felix said. The wealthy elite of Rome liked to have him brought to their private rooms. The wives of patrons were especially submissive when a gladiator was sent to pleasure them. They submitted to his dominance, including spankings and other acts, as long as when he finished, he had left them satisfied. The practice had earned him extra money and a loyal following of women to support him in the arena. They wrote graffiti on the walls and petitioned for his release.

  “Remove her clothing,” Atticus ordered the major domo.

  The manservant tore the woollen tunic apart and off her shoulders. She wriggled, clinging on to the last hope for dignity but to no avail.

  Rufus gasped, as if he’d never seen a naked woman before, which was hardly the truth. However, perhaps he’d not seen one of her kind. She had marble skin, milky white in tone, and at the apex of her thighs a dark little bush. She tried to hide it with the chains around her wrists. Her breasts were bountiful and tipped by peachy stones. When the major domo pushed her forward, she blushed about the bosom.

  Felix’s cock stiffened. He expected Rufus was experiencing the same reaction since the young man had dropped his hands into his lap in response to the suddenness of his erection. Felix admired Rufus. He had all the vitality of youth still on his side, but the maturity of an older man. He might appear to be agog and ready to devour the poor girl, but he wouldn’t. Rufus possessed a gentleness to his strength and passion for lovemaking, and a level of self-control that was at odds with his fiery temper. He might conquer a woman with his body, but he never took her without consent. For the two months of their journey, while Felix abstained from fucking, Rufus only did so when he met a willing woman.

  Her eyes were wet with unshed tears. A proud Briton. Felix already liked her. If he could, he would pity her and not treat her harshly, but he dare not offend the offer granted by Atticus.

  “What is your name?” he asked her in her own tongue, which he struggled to recall, but it came when he needed it to.

  “Bethan,” she said quietly. “Bethan of the Carvetii.” Her cheeks flushed pink.

  A neighbouring tribe and one that his people had likely fought and traded with over the years he’d been absent. “Bethan, don’t be afraid. I am a powerful man, yes, with strong muscles, but I know how to use them wisely. Come closer.”

  She shuffled toward him and lowered her hands to her side, taking the chains with her. The links stretched across her belly and the ones about her ankles clinked as she walked.

  Atticus chortled. “She likes what you say, I can see it. Keep it up, she’ll be eating out of your hand while you smart her backside. These Britons have no wits.”

  Felix guessed Atticus had no clue as to what he’d said. “Closer, Bethan.” He’d no desire to drag her screaming across the room.

  The dark eyes stayed on him as if she was blotting out everybody else. Behind her Rufus shifted to the edge of his seat. Reaching up to her long hair, Felix coiled it between his fingers. “Down,” he said firmly.

  Apparently, he’d hypnotised her. She slid onto her knees, taking the weight of the chains between her wrists. He lifted them while keeping his hand bundled in her hair and slowly, he drew her over his lap. Her bare bottom rose up and the creamy ass cheeks parted slightly.

  Gods, be patient! He would enjoy spanking her, but no more. In the temples of Rome, he’d sworn on the altar of Ceres, goddess of the harvest and fertility, that he would only spill his seed once he reached his new lands. He’d waited two months to reach Britannia; he could wait a few more days before he fucked a woman. He raised his hand and brought it down with a crack.

  Bethan screamed and jerked across his lap.

  Atticus roared with laughter.

  Rufus’s nostrils flared, but he said nothing.

  Felix rested his hand on her ass, feeling the heat rise to the surface. “Be brave, Bethan,” he said quietly. “The gods will reward you.”

  Chapter Four

  Atticus was an ugly bastard who treated women with contempt. He preferred the company of men, which explained why his wife spent most of her life somewhere warm and sunny. He wasn’t Bethan’s first owner. Since she’d been enslaved, she’d had two other masters. The first was kind and she’d worked the land for him, then he’d died and she’d been sold as a domestic servant to the second, an elderly merchant who brought wheat for the armies while keeping the Briganti happy with semi-precious metals. A few weeks ago, she’d been sold again, this time to the Roman army officer who came for her master’s unpaid taxes. Housesteads was one of the biggest forts on the wall. A bitterly cold place built on the side of the hill and exposed to the elements, especially the wind.

  The cold made everyone hungry. The children suffered the most. She had been warned and let off the first time she was caught smuggling out food, but only because the cook, a soldier himself from some distant land, couldn’t be bothered to deal with her at the end of the day. He was lazy. However, dropping apples right under the noses of the legionnaires at the gate wa
s too good an opportunity for him to miss.

  She’d arrived at Atticus’s house expecting him to have her tied to a post in the yard and flogged by one of his burly soldiers. It wouldn’t kill her; she was too useful to be killed. However, a flogging was a brutal punishment. Any kind of spanking had to be better than a flogging.

  Now she knew who they were, especially Felix, the emperor’s champion, she didn’t want to appear weak. She might be a slave, but she was a proud Briton and hated the Romans, and these men, who’d once been slaves themselves, were probably more sympathetic than a legionnaire with a whip. It still didn’t make things easy. She’d not anticipated the humiliation of having her clothes torn off and being forced to stand naked before the gladiators. It was harder than she thought.

  The closer she moved toward Felix, the more her skin prickled with trepidation. She kept telling herself that she was about to be spanked by a gladiator. Women in Rome might pay for a gladiator to do this! She’d dragged her chains along, letting them clink as she approached him.

  He asked for her name! What did that mean? Was he interested in her? Heat bloomed across her face as she told him. The roar in her ears grew louder when he told her not to be afraid. She wasn’t afraid. She stuck her chin out and attempted to appear defiant. It probably came across badly; Atticus misread the expression completely. Felix ignored the commander’s remark about eating out of his hand. That had to be a good sign for her. She slid over Felix’s iron-clad thighs and he looped his arm around her waist until he fitted her snugly against his firm stomach. He tilted her bottom higher until her palms rested flat on the floor.

  Across the room, Rufus was clearly entranced. He had a bird’s-eye view, especially of the cleft between her arse cheeks. Lucky for him. She just wished Atticus wasn’t there. The bastard roared with laughter when the first blow landed where her buttocks met. Felix’s mighty hand covered both of her cheeks easily and she thrashed her head from side to side as the shock of the pain heated her arse to the temperature of hot coals. Felix said the gods would reward her. How exactly? Weren’t they laughing at her misfortune along with Atticus?

  Rufus stayed quiet. She twisted her head and managed to spy him out of the corner of her eye. As Felix rained down his spanks, she matched Rufus’s gaze with as much courage as she could muster. It lasted a few minutes, then she started to cave in to the pain blazing in her backside. She hollered and writhed. Only the firm grip of Felix kept her in position and prevented her from falling off his lap.

  “Keep still, wench,” Felix murmured. “I shan’t stop yet. Atticus will not be satisfied with this unless you show him your pain.”

  He understood. The gladiator knew that she was suffering for the commander and not him or Rufus.

  She sobbed and tears collected in her eyes. “It hurts.” But, she refused to shed a drop for Atticus.

  “And so it should. You stole,” he said loudly, then rattled more smacks down, criss-crossing her poor arse and thighs with them. The chains weighed her down, preventing her from lifting her legs or kicking her feet.

  He was sympathetic up to a point, it seemed. What of Rufus?

  Through a tangle of dangling strands of hair, she glanced at him. He clutched the edge of his seat with white knuckles but made no attempt to intervene in her plight. Perhaps he was just as eager to see her punished as the other? Neither of them cared for her fate—they’d be gone in the morning.

  The spanking continued unabated by her cries and appeals for mercy. It was what Atticus wanted—chastised by the hand of a famous gladiator.

  “Rules are not to be broken, girl,” Felix accompanied each word with a flurry of slaps.

  “Oh, mercy, lord,” she entreated. Her arse was on fire and the heat went deep into her flesh to her very core, where to her shame it coaxed other sensations into being, including a strange buzz she’d never felt before in her sex. “Please, Commander, I can’t take any more.” She bit on her lip and absorbed the smacks. She probably could, but Felix was right, it had to appear she was suffering badly.

  “I don’t care,” Atticus snarled from across the room. “Keep at it, gladiator. She’s not even close to fainting.”

  Felix paused. He rested his hand on an arse cheek and squeezed. “Seems to me she is sufficiently punished.”

  Atticus snapped his fingers impatiently. “Yes, yes, her ass is red hot, but I want it black and blue. I want to hear her scream.”

  “You agreed, sir, that I should choose the extent of her punishment.” Felix spoke with a great authority. Did he call out to the crowds for their support when he fought? Was that how he won them to his side?

  Atticus growled. “I agreed but only to see you make her suffer.”

  “You wanted to entertain me, and I have been.” Felix’s hand drifted along her furrow and down between her folds. The chains clanged against the stone floor as her feet rose up onto their tiptoes. He lingered and used his fingertips to probe. She gasped. For a moment the discomfort in her bottom was supplanted by something quite different, almost delightful. The tingle shot along her spine and her nipples felt as if a magical hand had pinched them.

  “She stole food of little value.” Felix skated his fingers back along her furrow and rested his palm once more on her ass cheek. The weight of his hand reassured her this time. “And I have dealt with the matter, don’t you agree?” he asked with calm determination.

  Atticus sprang to his feet. “She is a thief. She can’t be trusted.” His shadow loomed over the floor next to her head. If it wasn’t for Felix’s arm around her waist, she’d have been scrambling away.

  Rufus rose, too. “Perhaps then, you might consider selling her to us?”

  Felix released his grip and she slid onto her knees by his side. She panted, not daring to speak. Owned by a gladiator? Would it be possible? She peeped out from under the locks of her hair. Rufus and Felix were staring at each other, possibly communicating in some secret manner, because they ignored Atticus’s laughter.

  “Buy her? You couldn’t afford her.” The commander returned to his seat, still chuckling, but satisfied at least that the punishment was complete.

  “I want her,” Rufus said quietly, not taking his eyes of his companion.

  She snatched a sharp intake of breath and quickly lowered her eyes as Rufus looked down at her. He wanted her!

  Felix reached out and ran his fingers through her hair before tipping her chin up. “She might have some uses for us. I need a kitchen girl, amongst other things.”

  A cryptic comment, but she could make a guess that it had something to do with hot-blooded lust. What other reason did they need? The base need for fucking was strong in men. Since she’d not grieved for her late husband—a spineless old man with no wit—she longed to feel true passion. A gladiator fought for his life. He must be the embodiment of that life force if he survived so many fights unscathed. If he spilled his seed inside her, she would be brought back to life and perhaps even blessed with children. It had to be worth the risk.

  The pain in her bottom was swept to one side at the idea of leaving Atticus and finding a new home with not one, but two gladiators.

  “Then,” said Rufus slowly, “it’s decided. We shall take her with us.”

  She tensed, listening as Felix haggled with the belligerent Atticus. He was asking for more than twice her original price. Felix knocked him down, then hesitated. Another glance at Rufus.

  “You know I’m right,” Rufus said. “She’s perfect for what you want.”

  Felix gave his final offer and Atticus took it.

  She’d been sold again.

  “Release her from these chains. Find her fresh clothes,” Felix ordered the guard with the key to her shackles.

  He draped his fur-lined cloak over her shoulders and helped her to her feet. “You’re mine now.” He steadied her, before brushing her hair out of her face. “Pretty girl,” he murmured in her native tongue. “I shall have to be patient to find out if you will bring me fortune.”
r />   She didn’t understand. She probably wasn’t meant to. She remained a slave girl.

  As the guard led her away to the servants’ quarters, she turned. Rufus was smiling. It filled her with confidence knowing she was with him.

  Chapter Five

  Rufus lifted Bethan onto the front of his horse. She made no complaints, which, given the state of her ass, was admirable. He patted the horse’s flank, whispering in her flicking ear. The mare would have to bear a heavier load than usual. Felix had relieved him of some of his baggage to lighten the load. He also had the gold coin hidden beneath his saddle. Grasping a handful of horse’s mane, he leapt onto the saddle behind Bethan.

  She was shivering. The early start promised by Felix meant a cold one. The sun was barely above the horizon and the wind had picked up in the night. She settled against his chest. With her slender frame, she fitted snugly between his arms. She’d found stockings to wear, which she needed, and an extra shawl, but neither were sufficient to stop her rubbing her hands together and blowing on them. Rufus drew his cloak around them both and tucked it under her chin.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Are your wrists hurting?” he asked. He seen the marks the shackles had left.

  “Not as much as my arse,” she replied.

  He laughed. “Well, that is not due to my hand.” He clucked his tongue and the horse lumbered forward for a few paces before picking up her hooves.

  Felix led on his steed, as he always did, and with a wave of his arm, they were off. A few small children ran along the road next to them, shouting goodbye to Bethan, who answered each one with a farewell of her own.

  “They’ll miss you,” Rufus said. “Have you been here long?”

  “A few passes of the moon. I won’t miss the fort.”

  The road zig-zagged down the ridge toward the main road that ran parallel to the wall. From east to west, the Roman Wall formed a barrier that kept out the barbarians in the north, and stopped them joining forces with the tribes to the south. They were going to head west before tracking south to fertile land and Felix’s villa.