Even from my box seat, high above the dry, dusty arena floor, I could see the sweat gleaming on the toned bodies of the warriors below. It made their skin glimmer in the sunlight as their muscles rippled; each thrust and parry sent a shiver of excitement through my body. I haven't been touched in so long, I thought with a frustrated groan. My husband had been abroad for almost a year, away at Court, and I was yearning for satisfaction.
I wondered what he would have thought of this, of these men with their powerful bodies and primitive weapons attacking each other like animals. He would have found it barbaric - and while, yes, it was crude and savage, there was something oddly arousing to the spectacle. The gladiators were skilled and fleet of foot, their attacks an intricate dance. I found my thoughts drifting to speculation of their talents in...less violent arenas.
I shifted my weight, squeezing my legs together to grind into my seat, and bit my lip. Thank the Gods for the private box! I had no interest in company right now, not when I had discovered the tantalizing appeal of oiled warriors. I signaled for a refill of wine and sat back to enjoy the show.
The fighters were from every corner of the region, eager to seek their fortune in our provincial capital, and their bravado and boasts before battle were half the fun. I cheered for the victors and vanquished alike, my focus not on the bloodshed but on the men and their graceful movements...and all the while, I ached, excitement growing. A passing breeze stiffened my nipples through my lightweight gown, while a stray lock of hair against my neck elicited goosebumps.
One fighter outshone the rest, his speed, agility and strength giving me shivers of anticipation. He was brutal and crafty; thoughts of how he would use me suddenly flooded my brain and I gasped at the vulgar daydream, shocked with myself.
Still...the more I tried to dismiss the mental images, the more I saw him: toned, naked, pinning me down. I bit my lip, stunned with my own lust. I was a proper noble lady, not some common wench to be used!
A common wench to be used... I echoed the phrase in my mind, savoring the words and the delicious reaction they had on me, as I watched the man closely.
The Conqueror, they called him, and conquer he did, dominating an entire mock battle to emerge the victor.
The thought of him inside me lingered and grew as the fights continued until I could take it no longer. I finally stood and made my way towards the depths of the arena, towards the entrance to the preparation area down below and the guest apartments beyond, then groaned in frustration as the crowd swelled, slowing progress to a painful crawl. Let me through! I mentally screamed. After endless minutes of slowly shuffling along, consumed by mounting tension, I finally managed to get past the main bulk of the crowd to the smaller tunnels used by the fighters.
I knew it was forbidden to be there as a woman, especially alone, but the overwhelming and sudden need clouded my thoughts. I had to meet him. I kept to the shadows, wrapping my scarf over my head as I avoided stares, until I found myself face to face with the guards manning the entrance to the warrior quarters.
"I am here to see the Conqueror," I said confidently, drawing my dress closer around me. "I can pay." I extended my arm, a small leather coin purse dangling from my fingers.
The guards looked at me and then down at my purse and then finally at my chest, my stiffened nipples betraying me. A slow grin spread across their faces. "Finding a stallion?" one teased, while the other just smiled lasciviously.
I felt a thrill of danger both at my own boldness and at the men's crudeness. They each stepped closer, heavy scents of wine and sweat filling my nose. They were burly, much taller than me, and clad in leather armor. Repulsive, crude men, but I discovered I enjoyed their attention, a fire blooming in my belly as their gazes presumptuously roved my body.
"There's a tip needed on top of that," the second man finally chimed in, his grin widening. He stepped closer and reached out, hand sliding down towards my bodice.
At first, I stepped back.
I am a noble lady! my mind insisted.
You are a wench to be used, some other part of me replied.
I grasped his hand and guided it to my breast. His eyebrows raised in surprise and then, hungrily, he savored the gift I offered, rough fingers pinching hard at my nipple.
My eyes flared and my heart raced at the indignity, but a flood of excitement stilled my hands. The shame turned me on even more.
My breath became ragged and I bit back a moan as the other guard groped me as well - part of me yearned to press my body back into their grasp, but some sanity remained and I managed to simply hold myself still, maintaining some shreds of decorum.
The air thickened with the musk of their excitement and I flushed, mind racing like a rabbit as I wondered if I had gone crazy. And then, I pulled my gown up my thighs, just enough to invite more.
The guard groaned in lust and pressed himself against me, his broad palm flattening between my legs. His calloused fingers sought purchase and dug into the sensitive crevice, rubbing my wet lips and slick entrance in rhythm. The stench of wine and dirt filled my nostrils, my nipples throbbing harder.
"This one's already wet!" he growled in approval, and shameful lust flooded me at being used like this by such coarse men. Finally, they stopped the pawing and gave me a soft push through the door to the gladiator cells, slapping my rear and chuckling to themselves as I left.
I felt filthy, but more turned on than I ever had before in my life. My husband was nothing like them, his love making refined, genteel and dutiful. These men, however, these common louts and their casual use of my body had awakened something fiery in my loins.
My legs trembled as I ventured deeper into the preparation pit, skin aflame as I gazed at each specimen of a man. Some lay prostrate on mats and blankets, sleeping; others walked along practicing weapon swings, faces tight with concentration. Their skins shone bronze, well muscled and taut, so different from my slender, slight husband, and all were nude or clad only in simple loincloths.
It was overwhelming, but my body craved the sight, tension building as I looked for the one gladiator who had caught my eye: the Conqueror. As I passed each man, my heart thundered and breath quickened, thinking of what would happen if I simply dropped my dress and offered my body to them. Lust burned bright in my veins. I couldn't help imagining sinking down amongst the fighters, letting them use me, savoring their hot, spilt essence.
I rounded a corner and froze, overcome with what I saw. This was the warrior from before; up close, he was even more breathtaking. With every movement, his bared chest rippled with muscles that shone golden under the sunlight filtering in from overhead. His blond hair was unbound and flowed over his shoulders, framing his chiseled face. One fist clenched at his side, and I found myself gazing hungrily at it, imagining him pressing it deep into me, and how my body ached for such treatment.
All I wanted to do was touch him, to feel those taut muscles beneath my fingers, but fear overwhelmed my arousal. He was so strong, so powerful...and I had risked so much just to be here. To use him - to have him use me - could lead to danger, especially if my husband found out.
The Court was an awfully long way away, though...
My thoughts were interrupted by a roar, followed by shrieks and yells. Two gladiators had entered the arena above and begun to fight. The Conquerer laughed at my surprise, the first sign he had made that he knew I was there.
"That's what we do, Lady," he said in a deep voice which sent excited shivers down my spine. "We fight."
There was challenge in his curtness, a sharpness to his stare, daring me to voice my desires aloud. Just once, to be spoken to in such a manner, with passion laid bare... Just once, I wanted to be used, an object for primal sexual need. My body flushed as I gathered my strength and willpower, forcing my lips to form the words:
"And do you fuck?"
I found myself stepping forward, curving a finger under his chin and pulling his gaze to mine. I was astonished by my own boldness and almost drew away, but then my breath caught at the feral hunger reflected in his blue eyes. How would he respond? What might he say?
Slowly, slowly, I leaned closer, until we were almost touching. My nipples tightened and I felt an instant rush of heat at his closeness. I glanced down at his chest, watching the pulse beating rapidly at his neck, then he met his lips with mine.
His kiss was everything I had hoped for: the strength of his mouth pushed me back, pushed my senses towards overload. I let my tongue slide against his, lost in a moment of exhilaration. When he reached out to cup the curve of my breast, I gasped into his mouth, unable to stifle a moan.
Finally, I stepped back, overwhelmed by his sudden lust. It was intimidating and intoxicating. He stepped closer. I wanted more. So did he.
I moaned faintly as growing urgency built between my legs and suddenly he was scooping me up, slinging me over his shoulder with a slap on my ass. As he carried me along the hall towards his private quarters, his hands explored my thighs, stretching my gown tight against my swollen, sodden pussy. I groaned at the teasing touch.
His apartment was small, but adequate and cleaner than I had anticipated. A small bed took up one wall, while an armor rack dominated the other, arrayed with his gleaming helm and chestplate. The fighter crossed his arms and watched me impassively, one eyebrow raising in silent, expectant command.
I sunk to my knees.
