 |
|||
|
|
Please note that the following fiction is intended for ADULT ONLY entertainment. Do not read further if you are easily offended by extreme themes, or your local community codes do not permit such suggestive material.
This fiction is intended for your use only. Any further dissemination of it must first require the author’s permission.
Thank you.
Faibhar
Arena Fights
Part Two
Quamria stood just in time to see a chariot heading straight at her at full speed. More alarming than the chariot and its driver were ankle-high blades flashing from behind each wheel. She timed her jump just as the blades met where she stood, but felt her hair yanked to their roots. She ran and saw that the driver was a nude Nubian female tightly clenching her hair. Snapped along, she ran after the chariot.
Quamria stumbled and fell to her knees, her hair freed. The chariot stopped just as suddenly. Its driver stomped back to where Quamria knelt panting. Quamria glanced up to see the Nubian’s skin shown of oil. Scars between naked thighs showed evidence of female castration. The blonde started to rise. A kick along her spine shoved her back down. Slydus popped another luscious date into his mouth as he watched the scene unfold. Another Nubian female holding a trident kicked the warrioress’ back again. This woman waved to the chariot driver and reversed the trident. She bent down and lifted up the metallic hem of the rebel’s skirt. Slydus spat out his half-eaten fig and watched with more intensity as the blonde’s ass was revealed, shining in the morning sun. Taking the handle of the trident, she plunged it into the warrioress’ open “sweet spot”.
“To
think that he was “there” just last night.” Slydus
salivated, rolling the fig between his teeth as he savored this latest act
unfolding before him. “Again my loins
stirred for possibly the fourth-no, the fifth time in such a short span! Oh he
could just not keep track…
How
virile! What a man!”
“By the gods,” the nephew, cum, assistant thought. “Flabby “Mr. Boss-man” was actually pleasuring himself. The perve! The pig was sweating buckets, his hand jerking off under his royal purple robes.” Not wishing to get any closer to his uncle he pretended not to notice the action to his immediate left. He concentrated instead on the cool shade under which they sat; a dull alternative, but at least not hot….
Using the trident handle as a thick prod, the taller of the two Nubians forcibly guided their impaled target back to where the stilled animal lay. The two’s cruel ingenuity won the noisy approval of the formerly stunned spectators. The threesome on the arena floor slowly advanced toward the fallen carcass, the stuck rebel leaving a pain-wracked sandy wake as she crawled on her hands and knees.
The one wielding the trident bent down and lifted up a front paw of the now dead lion. With it, she used the claws to rake the blonde’s back. Bright blood erupted. The cord tightly binding the plates snapped. The two discs plopped into the sand.
The shorter of the two Nubian’s grabbed Quamria’s left-arm and placed it between the lion’s jaws. She raised her foot high, poised to force it down towards the arm in the jaw. Quamria’s right-palm caught her heel by surprise. With effort she threw her attacker off-balance and backward. The warrioress pulled her arm free and twisted. Rolling, the handle still deep inside, she used both feet to kick up. The Nubian saw the flash of feet. Shock widened the whites of her eyes. Quamria kicked the trident’s points into her oiled neck. She jerked the handle free and rolled back to face the other woman.
The warrioress got to her feet and charged. Her lowered head grazed the other’s well-oiled stomach. Her hair again got pulled. She pulled back. Legs kicked up more arena sand as the two fought. Quamria grabbed both oiled shoulders. Her’s were grabbed as well. Muscles flexed. The blonde had a height advantage but the other’s strength compensated for her shorter stature.
“Are you sure there’s nothing I can
get you from the concessions?” The sycophant looked aghast at his relative and
superior. “He should really get a room! Really!” Unsavory gurgling noises came from Slydus,
his sole attention seemed to be on the girl fight happening in the arena. “Maybe, just maybe, he’ll settle down after
getting his rocks off this time.”
Quamria got her foot up into the other’s belly and did a backward somersault, pulling the two of them close to the fallen lion. They landed hard, but Quamria sensed her opponent’s strength flagging. She grabbed the black woman’s head and shoved it where her left-arm had been. She slammed her forearm down on the carcass’s snout. The Nubian screamed shrilly as lion canines cut. Quamria spun away just as the other got to her feet. Holding the sides of her face, blood streaming between her fingers, she ran back sobbing into the shadows.
Quamria rose slowly to her feet. Inventory time. All of her ached. She had no concerns about being half-naked, in fact, freed of the cumbersome discs tied with their binding cord, her breasts presented more normally; gentle slopes and curves stood out from her chest. But her nipples burned from the jagged plate openings, and various bites and bruises marking her breasts hurt. She looked down her stomach. Blood trickled along the insides of her thighs.
To Be Continued
|
|
|