Seduced by the Gladiator(73)

“Very well, Viola. Why must you groom me?” If it was for part of Gaius’ twisted fantasy, then I would allow nothing to be done to my person, though I had to admit that the tub full of water looked enticing. “I assure you, I would rather not be.”

There were those wide eyes again, that fear. “I must, lady. I have strict instructions, a list of things that must be done. If I do not . . .” Viola’s voice shook, and her hands again clutched at the ball of her belly. “I think now, having met you, that you will not beat me, as the dominus said. But if you appear any less than as he wishes, I will be punished.” The sick fear in the girl’s eyes reminded me only too much of some of the burdens that I still carried with me.

With a grimace, I looked across the room at the toga that had been modified to make me appear like a well-dressed whore. I looked at the tub, full of water that was clear as glass.

“What has he ordered to be done?” I thought that perhaps Gaius wanted my hair styled a certain way, or that I wash with soap of a certain smell.

I gaped when Viola brought forth the warm pail that one of the other slaves had brought into the room. With a stick she stirred the viscous yellow contents.

“This is to be applied to your skin. When it is pulled off, it takes the hair with it.” While I gazed in horror at the liquid, she fetched the tray with the pots. “This is a scrub made with sugar. It smoothes the skin. And this perfumes your hair.”

Her face flushed with embarrassment as she gestured to the final pot, a small one containing something thick and white.

“And this . . . I am to apply this to your clitoris. It will . . . he said that it will ensure that you are ready for him.”

“Oh, Viola.” How could the man ask such a thing of this young girl?

I knew that I would suffer through all of this nonsense if it meant that she would escape punishment. And as for the last little pot of cream . . .

No one was going to be applying that anywhere. I assumed that it was some sort of stimulant, which was something that I had heard of. It was common among whores, for it helped to wet their cunts and made their work less painful.

I would never be wet for Gaius, cream or not. My heart belonged to Christus, and all of my lust to him as well.

“Well, let us get to work, shall we?” Grimly, I stood, stripped off my leathers, and climbed into the tub. Gaius had sent Viola to do this task because he had known that I would never allow a timid thing like her to be punished when I had the power to prevent it.

I would be waxed and oiled and perfumed, and I would wear his whore’s outfit. But when he came to make me his, as he had threatened to do, he would find not a scared, trembling mess of a woman who longed for her lover and feared death.

Though I had no basis for the sentiment, I felt a kinship with the young slave, the girl who had gone out of her way the night before to show Christus and me an unexpected kindness.

She put me in mind of myself, so many years ago—she was young, she was frightened, and despite her advanced pregnancy, she retained an air of innocence.

I may not have had any responsibility to the girl, but I wanted to return the favor that she had given me. I wanted to show Viola that she could be strong.

And so when Gaius came for me, he would find the female gladiator who had once almost been crowned champion of Rome.



“Inspect her cunt.” Gaius had sent two male slaves to fetch me from my room that evening at the dinner hour. I had let Viola dress me, let her arrange my hair, and had sent her on her way with what I hoped was the sense that she had performed her duties to the fullest.

Except for the stimulant cream. If Gaius was displeased, I would say that I had overpowered the girl and had refused it—which was not entirely untrue.

Now here I stood, barely two steps into the dining hall to which I had been brought. Gaius had set it for a seduction, with candles casting soft yellow light against the walls, jugs full of wine that smelled of spice, and a feast to rival the one that had been displayed at the party nights earlier.

“Fuck you.” I spoke as sweetly as I could and squeezed my thighs together tightly. Gaius laughed and then gestured to the two slaves to do so.

“I must be certain that my directions have been followed, lovely Lilia. All of my directions.”

I smiled at him, then grabbed the wrist of the slave who reached for the skirt of my toga. “If either of these slaves lays a finger on me, I will twist his cock off with my bare fingers.”

I longed for a weapon. While every gladiator was fully capable of injuring someone with bare hands, I did not want to touch him.

Settling back in his chair, he eyed me appraisingly. “Very well.” Nodding at the slaves, who stepped away from me quickly enough to make me smile, he gestured for me to come to the table.