Arena Shifters (A Paranormal Romance Novel) (11 page)

Petronia
caught her friend as her lifeless body crumpled to the ground. She watched the
grey silted rain mix with her beloved’s blood on the ground around her knees.
She closed her eyes that burned from the bitter water falling from the heavens
and she prayed to the gods that she too could find sweet release from her life
of slavery. But the prayer caught in her mouth. She could not finish. There was
something else she had to do first and she would not stop until it was done.
She looked up at the Praetor who was still standing in the Pulvinus along with
Lanista Gaius Gracchus Tiberius, her Dominus. With newfound strength he raised the
tip of her gladius and pointed it at both men, swearing on the life of her
beloved Albinia and on her blackened soul, to be the death of those men, then
she could let herself depart this life.

Seeing
the slave girl’s gesture, the Praetor signaled the release of the gates
allowing two more gladiators to enter the rain drenched arena. Petronia let her
friend slide down her knees and to the soaked ground. She gave her one last,
loving look, then stood, focusing her attention on the approaching gladiators. There
was murder in her eyes!

When
the two gladiators were within five meters of her outstretched sword tip, she
began her charge. She was liked a possessed beast, a mad woman who had been
transformed by grief from gladiatrix to beast incapable of being vanquished.
Her opponents came to the same conclusion and froze in their tracks. The man on
Petronia’s right was slightly forward his companion, and her first victim. She
hit him with a tornado-like spinning attack, as her body spun, both gladius and
pugio struck the man’s shield, left to right, and knocking the huge piece of
metal completely from his muscled arm. Her forward momentum carried her past
him and right into the second gladiator, sweeping aside both his weapons with
her sword. As her body finished her last revolution she buried her dagger in
his throat, sending a fountain of blood bathing the back of his partner before
he fell face first in the muddy ground.

The
remaining gladiator tried to turn and reorient his blade on Petronia but she
was moving too fast. She leapt into the air, her feet climbing up his body like
some fleshy steps until she was literally standing on his shoulders. He stabbed
his sword upwards thinking he would skewer her between her tanned legs but she
was already dropping to the ground. As she stepped off his shoulders she spun
around to face him seeing the fear in his eyes just before she extinguished
them with a single thrust of her gladius up beneath his chin and out the top of
his head. He was dead long before his body hit the ground.

The
crowd erupted in pandemonium never before heard in the 500 year history of the
old Arena. This was the spectacle they all came to see but didn’t know it yet.
She, Petronia from Floretia became on that day a Goddess of the Arena! The
Praetor could have released half his Roman guard on her that day and she’d have
slain them without breaking a sweat. It was time to reward the girl.

It
took ten minutes for the crowd to acknowledge the Praetor and quieten down. Now
that he had their attention it was time to show Roman mercy.

“My
fellow citizens of Rome. What you have witnessed this day has been beyond
spectacle. You have been graced with seeing the pinnacle of what the human body
is capable. My fellow Savonans, I give you Petronia, Goddess of the Arena!”

Now
he held up both thumbs in a traditional gesture, both horizontal ready to turn
up and give life, or down signaling death.

“My
good people, what say you of Petronia, Goddess of the Arena, life or death?”

Their
voices were as one single shout of life! Petronia smiled grimly. The Praetor
had just signed his death warrant.

Part Two…

Petronia
awoke with a start. Instinctively she reached for her pugio as she rolled off
the side of her palette opposite the cell door. A sharp cry of surprise stopped
her hand mid motion as she grabbed the stranger’s long dark hair. She had
intended to jerk the person’s head toward her chest as she jabbed forward with
the point of her blade. The result would have been one dead slave girl and a
lot of explaining to do. Petronia let go of the girls tresses and stepped back,
her dagger still between herself and the strange girl.

“Sorry
to wake you mistress, but Dominus says I must present myself as gift for your
triumph in the Arena today.”

“Gift?”
Petronia was outraged. Her best friend had died today. She wanted no reminders
of the afternoon’s events. “I do not want Dominus’ gift. Leave me to sleep.”

“But
I must not. If I do not please you Dominus will make me please the pigs and
goats.”

Petronia
thought about it for a moment. That sounded truly disgusting. “Alright, you can
stay with me tonight but I need my sleep. If you let me sleep I will report to
the Dominus that I was well pleased.”

“Oh
thank you, thank you Gladiatrix.”

“Relax
girl, we’re just sleeping.”

“Of
course Gladiatrix.” At that the young girl undid the clasp of her tunic and let
the thin fabric fall in a heap around her feet.

Petronia
did not intend to look but her eyes were automatically drawn to the slave’s
body. She was a stunning specimen to gaze upon. Without meaning to, Petronia
let her gaze slide down the girl’s svelte figure to the black tufts of hair
covering her sex. The girl took Petronia’s gaze as an invitation and she knelt
down on her pallet and made to lay down, but seeing a burst of fire leap into
her eyes, she jumped back apologizing.

“I’m
so sorry Gladiatrix I thought you mean-“

Petronia’s
face softened. “It’s okay. I don’t expect you to sleep on the floor.” Then
seeing a disappointed look on the girl’s face; “It’s not that you’re not
pretty…you’re stunning…it’s just...this is just a day I’d rather forget, not
mark it as a day I’ll always remember by the charms of a slave girl.”

“You
over estimate my charms, Gladiatrix.”

Petronia
lay down on her pallet and patted her hand next to her, indicating that the
other girl should lie down. “Never the less…What do they call you?”

“Flora.”

“Well
Flora, I hope you don’t snore, because I really have to get some sleep before
training tomorrow.”

“I
won’t wake you Gladiatrix.”

Petronia
was very nearly asleep when she felt a hand resting on her tummy just above her
navel. She forced herself to breath regularly, but when the hand moved up and
cupped a breast, she caught her breath. She cursed to herself. Now the girl was
going to know she was awake. The hand on her breast squeezed ever so slightly,
then she found a nipple with her thumb and forefinger. She gave a tentative
squeeze, before withdrawing entirely. When the hand returned well below her
belly button and just above her sex, she froze. Was the girl actually going to
do this, after all she said? She felt fingertips brush the wisps of hair
between her legs, caressing the softness of her hair. Without even knowing why,
when the girl’s hand slid down between her legs, she opened her moist thighs,
giving the girl free access.

She
felt the girl’s expert fingers on her velvety lips, then on her sacred button.
Each touch, each tender caress sent little sparks of delicious energy shooting
through her body and she wondered how the sensation on such a little thing
could make her entire body feel so good. The slave girl began to kiss her neck,
and each little peck sent little shivers up and down her spine. She felt the
girl’s lips work their way up to her jaw line, then her cheek before caressing
the corners of her mouth. Without quite knowing why, Petronia turned her head
just enough so the girls mouth was pressed to hers.

She
couldn’t believe how soft and warm they were. Just when she thought that’s all
there was to kissing she felt the girl’s lips part and her tongue was tracing
the outline of Petronia’s lips. Petronia sighed and her lips parted ever so
slightly, but it was like an invitation to the slave girl’s tongue. The girl
ran her tongue over teeth, and when Petronia opened her mouth to give voice to
pleasure, she found the girls tongue had slipped in was tangling with her own
in some sensual, erotic wresting match. She had no idea what a pleasure kissing
could be. It’s no wonder mothers tell their girls not to kiss the boys. If she
had known this five years ago…

Without
even intending to do so, Petronia was grinding her pussy into the girls palm as
she fingered her sending waves of pleasure throughout her body. She opened her
mouth even more and inhaled the girl’s sweet breath and the taste of her
delicate tongue and she wondered absentmindedly if she was a good kisser or
not. Gradually the girl withdrew her delicate mouth, and watched as the girl
made tracks of saliva down her bronzed skin, stopping long enough to take a
hardened nipple into her mouth. Petronia cried out in ecstasy as the girl bit
down, making Petronia’s whole body arch off the bed. What new technique was
this she wondered as the pain subsided? She wanted more, but the slave girl had
other plans. Petronia almost kicked the girl in a knee jerk reaction when
tongue replaced fingers. If she thought the girl was good with her hand, it was
nothing compared to her lips on her lips and her tongue on her clit. It was so
good it should be illegal she thought to herself while she was still capable of
thought.

Soon
wave after waves of orgasms soared through her body until she was spent. She
fell asleep with the girl in her arms and her breath on her cheek. What a
glorious experience that was!

* * * * *

CHAPTER TWELVE:

Dangerously Bored

* * * * *

Petronia
continued to mourn the loss of her friend Albinia, and welcomed days of hard
training because the only thing that could make her forget. As she worked over
the wooden practice dummy waiting for a sparring partner to free up, she
recalled how her training had progressed. Initially she had always been paired
with the worst of the gladiators, the ones not worth the effort to train. But
as she began to beat them, Doctore began partnering her up with a better and
better class of fighter until she finally was sparring against the best they
had; and she was usually kicking their asses. Now she was back with the worst
fighters, but now in a different role. She was paired with them so they could
learn from her; and she soon found she had plenty to teach them.

She
relished her days in the Ludis. When she had blades in her hands was the only
time she actually felt alive. Her gladius’ became extensions of herself and it
was the most natural thing in the world. This morning she was paired against
two newer slaves and who had come into the Ludis full of attitude. It was their
belief Petronia wasn’t worth their best effort. She had been tasked with
proving to them she was better than their best efforts combined.

As
they pressed their attack Petronia forced them to break up their footwork and
to get into each other’s way. Doctore watched as his lone female gladiator
(gladiatrix) accurately predicted the two men’s attack, and forced them to
abandon a combined assault. As she countered with her own attack them were she
was so fast it was like being set upon by several attackers at once and not one
female slave. Doctore ducked as a wooden practice sword flew out of the hands
of one of Petronia’s opponent. He jumped back out of reach wringing his injured
hand. He other opponent took his place, pressing his attack, hoping his sheer
size and strength would be enough to make her pay. Petronia laughed to herself.
Every move the gladiator made he telegraphed it. As he stepped in to close the
distance with her, she delivered a powerful kick to his sternum with the heel
of her foot and he went sprawling on his but in the one of the many puddles
that littered the courtyard.

It
had scarcely stopped raining since she had witnessed her best friends sacrifice
in the arena nearly a week ago. Most of the citizens of Savona believed the
rain was a direct result of Petronia’s broken heart. Some went so far as to
believe that if she could just be happy again, or at least forget, the sun
would return to dry up the land. Dominus must have believed the same thing
because he kept sending gifts to Petronia in the way of food, breaks from
training, and an occasional slave to be her plaything, but none of these things
made her happy or even lifted her heart even a little. No amount of fucking,
however spectacular would bring back her friend. The one thing she believed
would help was so far removed from possibilities that she rarely entertained
the thought. One day she would make the Praetor pay with his life for the
sentencing of her friend Albinia. But the Praetor seldom came to Savona, and
even more seldom did he come to the House of Tiberius.

So
she took what joy she could from humiliating her fellow gladiators at the ends
of her blades. When the gladiator, Segundo landed on his ass, she was quick to
follow, dropping a knee in his unprotected solar plexus. The weight of her body
striking the soft spot where his ribs divided in the center of his mass made
his head pop up off the ground. Without a second thought she brought the pommel
of her gladius crunching down on the bridge of the man’s nose. Without missing
a beat, she dropped her right shoulder and rolled off his body and back to her
feet just in time to block the other gladiator’s inept attack. Her heart sang
as she ripped into the other man making him look like a boy a sword in his
hands for the first time.