Free THE GLADIATOR by Sean O'Kane Page A

knowing that their already sorely tested bodies were in for one more pounding gave the air a real charge. Tara herself could feel her lips engorging and opening against the studs at her crotch, while across her back, the corset dug into and revived the sting of her whip cuts, both sensations contributing further to her excitement.
    The cavernous space under the arena was indeed the cauldron of lust which Tara had expected. The air was thick with pungent smoke coming from the black cigarettes many of the men smoked. And as the first teams of gladiators were led in the crowd erupted into thunderous cheers and applause which reverberated around the ancient pillars and arches which formed the ceiling.
    The pens themselves were accessed by low wooden doors cut into the boards which formed the sides and there were banks of ascending benches set around them for the spectators. As Tara ducked and entered the sand-floored area, she was not surprised to see nearly as many women as there were men in the audience. And they were very close to the action. The sides of the pen were about eight feet high and the front row of spectators were able to lean on the tops. She could see bundles of notes changing hands as bets were placed. Her opponent entered soon afterwards and Tara sized her up. She had a Slavic look about her and was well built with pale-skinned breasts billowing up over the half cups of her corset forming inviting targets.
    But as an adversary she proved very disappointing. Tara was appalled at how badly she had been trained. The first time she managed to get in a few punches, jabbing to the body and breasts, the girl simply stopped in her tracks and Tara saw her expression change from one of shock to one of self-absorbed wonderment at the intensity of the pain spearing in from her nipples. She was responding purely as a masochist and not as a gladiator, which put Tara in a quandary. She realised that if she punched her again, the girl would probably collapse in an orgasmic heap there and then. The crowd would rightly feel cheated and she herself would probably end up getting the thumbs down as well as her wretched opponent. The whip she could cope with, but Carlo would be furious.
    She did the only thing she could, circling and feigning, dodging clumsy blows, giving the girl plenty of time to recover from one bout of pain before she delivered another. But soon the crowd saw through it and began to get restive, so Tara made the best job she could of finishing it off in style. She managed to get into a clinch and for a while the girl put up a decent struggle, pulling at Tara’s hair, clubbing in punches to her ribs. Their breasts were squeezed between their sweating bodies and both of them gritted their teeth as the pain hit. Immediately the crowd roared its approval, this was what they wanted. Tara felt the familiar surge of pleasure in response to the crowd and stopped concentrating for a second. The girl brought her knee up suddenly and caught her squarely between the legs. A bolt of scarlet agony shot through Tara as the points drove into her engorged labia. It was exquisite pain and Tara found herself dangerously close to folding up around it as her body and her surroundings transformed it into blinding pleasure. Grimly she held herself together, although at the cost of some body punches and then waded forward. She had put on enough of a show; her blood was up properly now. She forced her opponent back under a hail of jabs and hooks which had her squealing helplessly. Then at last, when she was backed up against the boarding, her mouth hanging open, her arms crossed over her breasts and her legs splayed wide, Tara moved in. She came close to her victim, close enough so that she could see the mixture of eagerness and terror in the girl’s exhausted eyes. She knew what was coming; and so did the crowd. There was a second’s breathless hush and then Tara brought her own knee up, hard. She felt the softness of the girl’s