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Ravaged by Gladiators, by Jezebel Rose

Most Roman slaves come from Gaul.

Shipped in by the dozen, their hands tied and bodies bound.

Even the women were subjected to these cruel conditions.

Mouths filled with rope gags.

Feet strewn behind their backs, the flesh of their soles placed on display.

Breasts wrapped in burlap, pink nipples sore from prolonged exposure.

When they arrived in the marketplace, they would look around, wide-eyed, breathing in the mud and the mire as Roman citizens walked by them, not noticing their torment.

Or how men looked at them, like objects – about to be bought.

Lentulus was one such man: a purveyor of Gladiators. A Lanista of Rome. A man of obvious power, and great material wealth.

‘’Tell me, slavemaster. Which of these slaves yet has their virginity?’’

Gaia blinked her eyes at the question, fearful. She begged the slavemaster not to reveal her. She would do anything: even suck his filthy cock.

‘’This one,’’ the slavemaster replied, and clapped his hand onto Gaia’s arse. It was full and fat from nothing but bread and rice for thirty stinking days on a Scillian transport ship.

Lentulus observed her. The slave was red-headed and blessed with heavy breasts. An avatar of Juno. His men would favour her.

‘’Very well, five denari.’’

Gaia blinked, and felt shame rush across her face. Five denari was the cost of a bottle of weak dry wine. Was she such a vintage?

The slavemaster agreed to the deal and made the trade, and to her disgust, she was placed in a collar and put upon a leash for her owner’s convenience.

Before they left the market, the man who now owned her stopped to question her.

‘’I boast some of this nation’s finest gladiators. Men of insatiable desires. I will not leave this place until you give me your consent, slave. Will you please my men?’’

Gaia looked at him, sat upon her knees in the sand, her body stuffy and baking in the noon-day sun. She felt lightheaded and weary, and thirsty – the collar chafing about her neck. With a little nod, she gave in, and agreed to his demand.

Without a word, he strapped her into a heavy chastity belt. It was made of iron, and he held the key. Her virginity was secured: much to her embarrassment.

‘’Good, now: make yourself small, and do not make me stop for you.’’

She followed him through the market on her hands and knees, and never once raised her head above her shoulders during the journey to his villa.

A trickle of apprehension filled her stomach when they left the town and started upon a mountain path, a likely building up ahead.

‘’My villa,’’ Lentulus exclaimed, and dragged her up the rocks.

When they arrived, she was immediately taken below to the barracks. She never even saw the inside of his storied estate.

Gaia passed by dark faces, chained up in cells. Their bodies were hulking with muscle. The pit smelt like straw and death.

Some of them leaned out to get a good look at her. She felt their eyes lingering on her breasts, her ass exposed behind her; and some of them groped at her flanks as she passed them by, their hands thick and powerful, so much so that she was dragged against the bars at one point, and felt her underarms locked into place as they manhandled her nude body.

She gasped as the guard escorting her fended them off, but they were too powerful and too hungry for the man to remove them by himself, and the guard went running for assistance.

In the five minutes that she got stuck there in the cells, they used her viciously for their own pleasure.

She felt cocks, hot and heady, sliding between her fingers, and she was pressed by her wrists to jerk them off. They were all uncut, unshaven, unwashed; and the taste of them was peppery and made her gag as she was made to take them into her mouth.

But she’d swore to her Dominus that she would please them, and so Gaia, despite being disgusted, did so, if only to save herself. She felt that if she did not start touching these men, they would end her life. They would tear her apart, tooth and nail, with their claws.

And so, in the muck of the barracks, she allowed herself to be used.

‘’Yes, pretty slave – bring your ass to my cell.’’

‘’No, to mine! Give me your mouth: I’ll fuck it senseless.’’

‘’This one, right here: stroke this one, it has something for you.’’

‘’When was the last time your cunt was stroked by a man? I’ll bet you’ve been on a slave ship since Scillia!’’ 

The men laughed at her as she gagged on their cocks, her senses flying. Her corners were filled with the sight and sound of these difficult, high-strung men. They were between her fingers, in between her armpits, against her breasts, along her thighs, stuffing her feet and toes into their mouths, hungry for any of her that became available.

At one point, they tussled with her chastity belt, and she shook her head, ‘’No! The Dominus says I must remain pure, I am to be given to one of his best!’’ She told them, momentarily wrenching herself off of a particularly greedy cock to do so.

But they did not care, her head was taken and again the cock was inserted into her throat; and another fought for purchase on her mouth.

The sound of her wet gags filled the barracks, and by now, many of the men were close to cumming. She hoped the guards would be here soon, or else she might soon pass out. Her eyes were watering from the stench, from the feeling of being touched across her every nerve and muscle. Her body ached, her jaw hurt from sucking, and then one by one… they passed her around, taking turns cumming into her mouth.

By the third, she was coughing and cringing, wincing each time they let go in her mouth.

By the fifth, she was dead-eyed and nodding, accepting them dutifully, sucking lamely with her tongue out. The surface of her lips and the pink of her tongue covered in spunk.

By the seventh, she was smiling lewdly, a little drunk: passed the point of no return.

By the tenth, Gaia was gargling on it, overflowing past her mouth and nostrils, her eyes trickling tears of joy from their corners.

Please purchase this story and support me as an author! Thank you! ~ Jezebel Rose

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