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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
* Note the drastic change in Story Codes for
Part 5 and Part 6 The Conclusion. They now are listed as: extreme, sm, snuff, torture & nc.
Arena Fights
Conclusion
The officer took his cue. Holding two broadswords of the same length, he knelt in front of Quamaria scarlet face. He could see from the sweat and pain in her eyes that she was suffering and struggling to keep her body arched up from her waist. Aligning the sharp blade of one sword under the warrioress he sunk a pommel from the hilt into the sand. He did likewise with the other. Both swords stabilized underneath, their sharp edges parallel.
Beads of sweat rained over the metal. Those watching from the sides could see her nipples hovering just above the blades. Quamria’s face flushed with more exertion. Shoulders cramped, veins along forearms knotted.
She fought against the slow descent. Bare arms shook. All around mad shouts called for her surrender. Taxed from too much on the rack, her strength fled. Shoulders and arms weakened…
“Why
no cuts remained a mystery. Her breasts must have folded over the blades. I
certainly can feel them.” She rested her chin on the sand. “Her heart felt ready to explode, the rest
lay slump, burning on the hot bed.”
“Lift up the rebel. Show us what has happened,” Slydus said, shouting above the crowd to make himself heard in the arena. He laughed with the rest as Quamria’s arms were grasped and her torso lifted. Red lines glowed up and down her chest. One of the lines perfectly bisected a nipple; the another ran along the outside edge of the other brown aureole. “It appears as though a slight adjustment is in order…” Slydus said as he sat. He signaled the officer to move the errant sword and nodded for the gate to be opened. “Too bad, warrioress. Looks as though you’ll have to use your hands to support yourself up again.”
“I
can’t lay upon the swords another time and yet…”Loose hair hid the sides of
her face, but also trapped waves of heat. Dazedly, she saw two slaves
approaching. “They seemed to pull
something attached to rope.”
The sycophant nephew was totally blown away by the arena spectacle. Two male slaves were dragging behind them a rusty iron ingot-the kind used for ballast in ships’ hulls. The heavy bar left a wide and deep wake in the sand. The rebel saw them too. Her arms trembled. Her sweating torso lowered, the upturned blades testing each nipple. Another collapse seemed at hand.
Quamria’s eyes cringed as the male slaves reached her. The object they so laboriously towed heavily rose by rope attached and went behind her, its dark shape blocking the sun for an instant. Breath came in quick, short spurts. She felt light-headed.
The two slaves struggled to lift up the ingot. Once it was over the warrioress’ shoulder blades, they let go. The tall blonde at their feet cried out, pounding her fists and toes once. One of the men bent down to inspect the stilled rebel. From under the iron and her smashed tit grew an oily pond. The other side must be the same.
“I’ll take it from here,” said the officer to the two slaves. Waving them away, he gripped the sword handles. He pulled up and out. The swords dripped fresh blood. “But don’t go too far. Get this slab off of her first.” He turned to face Slydus and held the dripping swords aloft.
The nephew wanted to vomit. His
uncle, however, seemed to be enjoying himself more than ever. “At least, he wasn’t playing with himself…The
poor bitch down there was barely moving.” He watched as they turned her
over. “No wonder she seemed in shock.
Both tits were cleaved, covered in gore, sand and who knows what.”
Slydus shook his heavy jowls. Those “awful consequences” now were learned, even to one of such courage, strength and beauty. “Wash her off so that we may all see!” “No longer would she awaken his dormant lust, or anyone else’s, for that matter”.
The rebel female lay on her back. Cleared sand revealed split tits. The officer picked up the trident from the floor, held the barbed points over her abdominal tunnel, and pushed. Blood-stained hands reflexively gripped the shaft, but slipped free. The officer yanked the trident out much as a fisherman would a gaff from a landed fish.
Few remained in the arena stands to watch the warrioress bleed out. Little could be heard in and around the arena in contrast to earlier frenzy. Most departed, including the portly Slydus and his nephew.
“I still don’t have the foggiest notion if the lad prefers the pleasures
of “snails” or “oysters”…”
Conflicted by many thoughts from a most confusing day, the nephew’s signature flounce appeared sluggish. He lackadaisically shuffled behind his rotund uncle.
(Short) Epilogue
Below, one of the male slaves
warily collected the shackles and collar from the dying female. Unlike her,
they could possibly be used another day.
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