Roma Victrix (40 page)

‘That's true,' Voicon said. ‘Your opponent knew her stuff. But not well enough. Audacia is a canny fighter but you… your strange dance of blades defeated her before the fight even started.'

‘You saw me fight?' Illeana could hear the thrill in Pyrrha's voice.

‘Of course,' the German said. ‘It was well done.'

He had begun to massage her feet now and Illeana allowed herself a soft smile of satisfaction as Pyrrha laid her head back and gave in to the pleasure of his touch. As she did so, she felt Hylas move higher, and this time she parted her legs slightly. His sigh was one of pure relief: he paused a moment and then she felt his lips kissing her lower back and buttocks, his hand touching her now soaking furrow. Slowly, with infinite care, he pushed a finger into her, making her sigh. As he did so, his other hand pulled gently on her bottom for a moment before she felt the wet touch of his tongue on her anus.

Just like a Greek, she thought, as the waves of pleasure flooded through her. Always going for the arse first. But, by the gods, he was good at it. She raised her hips up, exposing herself to him, and then he began to lick up and down, his mouth exploring the most intimate parts of her with delicious thoroughness.

Across the room she heard Pyrrha gasp and she turned her languid gaze towards her. The flaxen-haired Suebian knelt between her splayed legs, his head moving slightly as he made love to her with his tongue. Pyrrha twisted his golden locks in her small fists, her breath hissing through gritted teeth. ‘Oh gods,' she whispered. ‘Oh gods…' He did something then that caused Pyrrha's back to arch in ecstasy, forcing Voicon to hold her tight as she bucked in his grip, her orgasm ripping through her like a tidal wave.

That, Illeana thought as she rolled on to her back, was just what the girl needed. She hooked a leg over the top of the couch, allowing Hylas full reign to demonstrate his own skills; head tilted back, she continued to watch Pyrrha and Voicon. Pyrrha sat up, fingers scrabbling to loosen the Suebian's loin cloth; his cock sprung forth from its confinement, like some great gnarled oak, pulsing with life.

Pyrrha looked at it with something close to adoration before sinking her mouth over it, causing the gladiator to moan with pleasure.

Valerian would be the envy of his peers, Illeana thought, if this girl got her way. Pyrrha stopped then and lay back on the couch, her legs opening wide for him. His broad back arched over her, pausing for the briefest of moments before he sank his engorged length inside her and began to thrust hard.

Illeana felt her own peak beginning to build, her own pleasure heightened by being able to watch that of others. She pushed Hylas away from her and rose, moving over to Pyrrha's couch. Putting one foot on the head of it, she lowered her tingling sex towards the young woman's mouth and she responded with exquisite kisses that sent a spike of fire into Illeana's core. ‘Hylas,' she said, her voice dripping with lust. The Greek threw aside his
subligaricum
and made his way behind her. Gripping her hips, he slid his cock inside her, filling her. As he pushed in and out, Illeana felt herself teetering on the edge just as Pyrrha whirled her tongue on the exposed nub at the apex of her sex. But she did not want to peak yet.

By unspoken agreement, they broke apart; Voicon rolled to the floor and onto his back, his massively engorged phallus throbbing on his belly. Illeana grinned hungrily and swung herself towards him, straddling his thighs and guided him into her. She cried out in surprise: it went on and on, spearing into her, spreading her wide. Illeana bit her bottom lip and began to ride him; on the couch Hylas was fucking Pyrrha hard, his buttocks tensing as he rammed in and out. Pyrrha's nails clawed at his back as he took her, moaning and biting his shoulder.

Illeana was lost as Voicon ploughed into her, her body soaking with a mixture of sweat and oil. Somewhere in the back of her mind she was reminded of the arena – it was the same there, the same exertion, the same sweat and oil, the only difference that between pain and pleasure. Suddenly, she felt strong hands pushing her shoulders, forcing her down. She looked over her shoulder to see Hylas positioning himself behind her.

‘Just like a Greek,' she said, aloud this time.

Hylas did not answer; she felt the head of his cock searching for her anus and sweet seconds later he was in her. Illeana moaned, the sound deep and low as the two men began to thrust hard, taking their own pleasure from her body as they gave it. Illeana saw that Pyrrha watched from the couch, fingers moving over her glistening sex, hips thrusting in time with those of the gladiators. But as the men began to ream her with increasing speed her eyes squeezed tight shut, blinding her to everything but the intensity of her own pleasure.

Both gladiators began to gasp in that uncontrolled way that was the precursor to orgasm and the sound of it pushed Illeana over the edge. She cried out, shuddering in ecstasy as they pumped their seed into her, and was dimly aware of Pyrrha gasping in the midst of her own excitement.

Heart thudding hard, Illeana rested her face in the neck of the German as the fire of their pleasure was slowly doused. For a few moments, she rested, her body entwined with his and that of Hylas's before she reached around and patted him on the thigh. ‘All right,' she said. He pulled out of her; it had hurt just the right amount and now she felt both sluttish and fulfilled. She raised herself from Voicon and stood, enjoying the feeling of their issue gently leaking out onto her inner thighs; she glanced over at Pyrrha and grinned.

‘Well?' she said, reaching for a cloth.

Pyrrha blew a sweat-drenched curl from her face. ‘All right,' she laughed. ‘I needed that.'

‘Of course you did.' Illeana sat languidly on her couch. ‘More wine!' she ordered the men. They had, for now, served their purpose.

‘I needed that too,' she conceded as Hylas poured for her. ‘Those of us who fight live on the edge, Pyrrha. There has to be a balance, though. It's not all about training and hard work. Like I said – there is such a thing as over-training and there is more to life than just killing on the sands. If you don't appreciate life's pleasures then – when you're pushed hard – you might forget what else there is in life.'

‘Yes.' Pyrrha looked at Voicon a little guiltily and flushed when he winked at her. ‘But despite what just went on, I do have feelings for Valerian.'

‘And what just happened doesn't change that one iota. Women have needs, just as men do – we just show more decorum.'

Pyrrha laughed. ‘You weren't showing much decorum from where I was sitting,' she commented. ‘Two men at the same time! Really, you are just like Julia Augusta,' she referred to the daughter of Rome's first emperor.

‘Hardly,' Illeana snorted. Then she too laughed. ‘Well, maybe a little, but I don't plan on taking on the whores of Capua in a competition anytime soon.'

They lapsed into silence for a while; Pyrrha, Illeana noted, was gazing at her a little tipsily, her expression that of someone who wanted to say something but could not find the words. ‘What is it?' she asked.

‘I think… no… you
are
the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

You're perfect in every way.'

‘Of course I am.' Illeana made light of the statement, taken aback and, despite herself, a little embarrassed at this sudden declaration.

‘What's it like?'

‘What is what like?' Illeana motioned for more wine.

‘Being you.
Gladiatrix Prima
. One of the best in the world and the most beautiful as well. Everyone loves you, Illeana. You're like a goddess made flesh.'

‘Pyrrha, I think that you're a bit drunk,' Illeana said quietly, realising that that was true of herself as well.

‘
In vino veritas,
' the young gladiatrix tried to sound sagacious which made both women laugh. ‘But really – what's it like?'

Illeana reflected for a moment, fuzzed with booze and post-coital warmth. ‘It's good,' she said after a few moments. ‘Look – it's not as though I go through life marvelling at my own good looks. But I know that I'm not Medusa by any stretch of the imagination. And it happens that, along with my looks, I have a talent for survival.'

‘Or killing.'

‘If you like,' Illeana shrugged. ‘I came from humble enough beginnings, Pyrrha; but I was lucky in marriage and, when my husband died, I was left with enough money to do what I wanted with my life. This is what I wanted to do: the fact that I'm beautiful helps.'

Illeana felt somewhat awkward talking about herself in this way.

‘I wish I was more like you,' Pyrrha said. ‘Beautiful, I mean. I know I'm a good fighter.'

‘You're very beautiful, Pyrrha,' Illeana replied. ‘And you're more than good: if you weren't, I wouldn't be wasting my time training you. Some day, you'll be as good as me. Not better,' she grinned.

‘But just as good. You do need balance, like I said – so I find evenings like this helpful in maintaining some perspective. Not to mention that it feels damn good,' she glanced at the two men who were beginning to revive, their eyes on the flesh of the gladiatrices.

‘I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy myself,' Pyrrha admitted.

‘Even if it's all a bit extreme.'

‘Ah. Well, we live an extreme life,' Illeana explained – almost to herself as much to the younger woman. ‘We experience things that few others do. It's not like being a soldier, say, where it's you and thousands of other people fighting to survive. You step out onto those sands and it's just you and your opponent. You survive because of your skills. There's no shield mate there to help you if you're in trouble, no centurion to help you with your nerves when you're afraid.

But when you win the high is enormous – you know this now. My appetite for victory is insatiable – I love winning. I love it more than I've ever loved anything in my life. As such – my other appetites are equally as intense. I don't often drink like the barbarians do, I don't gamble like some and I don't let myself grow fat between fights. But I enjoy sex. I can be pleasured in many ways and I consider it my right to experience those pleasures. Men, women, two men, three…it doesn't matter. It matters only that I'm satisfied and my lusts are sated so I can focus on my first love:
winning
, as I said.'

‘I've never been with two men,' Pyrrha noted.

‘That,' Illeana said, ‘looks as though it's about to change.' She lay back, her hand moving to between her legs as Voicon and Hylas advanced on Pyrrha, stiff and eager once again. For her part, Illeana decided that she had participated in one bout already and this time she would watch and take pleasure from her young charge's performance.

Sextus Julius Frontinus was tired. He was no longer a young man; no, by the gods, he was an old man! He should have retired years ago and finished that treatise about aqueducts he had started. Frontinus was an engineer at heart, but Rome was a demanding mistress and she still had need of him. Funisulanus Vettonianus had made a pig's ear of his governorship in Moesia, turning a semi-stable province into a hotbed of rebellion. No one had yet quantified the damage that had been done – but it was huge.

Domitian had summoned him to the palace for ‘
a final meeting on
the Dacian issue.
' Frontinus had a fairly good idea of what would happen to Vettonianus and an even bet on who would be replacing him as governor of that gods-forsaken shit-hole. That, Frontinus mused, was the problem with successfully defeating barbarians. You got a reputation as a man who could be counted upon in a crisis and, after Britannia, Frontinus was known as such a man. Pity the uprising could not have been in Crete, Greece or even Judaea again: somewhere temperate that would be easy on the bones. One could not even trust the barbarians to rebel in the right places.

‘I'll make sure that I take all the notes,' his freedman Diocles said for the umpteenth time that day. The Greek was in a state of excitement, having never been to the Palatine before. ‘I won't miss anything out, sir, I guarantee it.'

The two men were in a
lectica
being borne at a fair speed to Domitian's new palace. ‘Diocles, you've worked for me for how many years now?' Frontinus asked.

‘Twenty-three, sir, thirteen of those as your freedman,' the Greek's response was exact and prompt.

‘And in that time, have you ever not taken down all the notes?'

‘Of course not, sir – my meticulousness is one of the things that you value about me, is that not so?'

‘Yes,' Frontinus agreed, ‘but not your constant nagging and need to state the bloody obvious. Yes, it's the emperor, but it's just another meeting in another big room stuffed with soldiers, sycophants and half-wit advisors. I
know
that you'll take all the notes.

Now stop acting like a bride on her wedding night.'

‘Just as long as it's only soldiers, sycophants and half-wits, sir, I'm sure we'll be fine,' Diocles replied primly. ‘I just hope there aren't any senile old curmudgeons who let their peevishness get in the way of seeing a good thing when it comes by.'

Frontinus chuckled. ‘You're not so far ingrained in my good books that I can't have you executed for insulting me, Diocles.'

‘Of course I know that, sir. If you're able to find out how to contact the executioner and what paperwork needs to be done, I'll happily walk to the cross on my own.' The Greek grinned at him. Frontinus relied heavily on Diocles to ensure that his affairs were in order. As a freedman, he had every right to pursue his own career, but had opted to stay with his former master. Frontinus was rich and Diocles liked the finer things in life; thus the arrangement suited them both. And, Frontinus supposed, working with a ‘senile old curmudgeon' was infinitely preferable to acting as pedagogue for a snotty little brat.