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Julia prepares for the fight, as a slave pleases her. 

 

Julia

 

As the gladiatorial games raged below, Julia watched from her private balcony, set on the top tier of the Great Coliseum. Julia, at almost thirty feet high, towered over her two armed protectors, each of whom barely came up past her hips. She wore a skimpy leather cuirass over her short black skirt, enough to protect her from minor scratches, and not much more. It was all the armor Julia expected to need for the day’s fight. 

Julia walked over to her recliner, where a dozen or so small slaves waited for her. She started to sit down, and her slaves quickly scrambled out of the way. They learn quickly, she thought. She had just gotten this batch a few days ago. Julia didn’t remember what she had done to the slaves that she had before. Did they end up inside her stomach, or under her foot, or somewhere else entirely? She didn’t recall, not that it mattered either way. The best slaves came from the far eastern nation of Sinae. They had been hard to come by the last few years, and Julia had burned through her supply. These slaves, meanwhile, were cheap, ill-trained, disposable things. If she broke them, as she often did, there were countless more waiting to take their place. 

“Lucunditas,” ordered Julia, as she lifted up the front of her red skirt. The slaves didn’t speak Latin, but they at least understood a few basic commands. The slaves looked at each other, before one of them walked up in front of Julia. After hesitating a moment, he walked over to her, ducking under her skirt and crawling between her legs. They were proportionately thin, yet each of them was as wide as the trunk of a midsize tree. Then, with some trepidation, he did what he was expected to do. 

The slave, nestled under Julia’s skirt, walked between his mistress’ thick legs. Coming to her crotch, he hesitated for a moment, before he slowly pulled apart Julia’s labia. The scent overwhelmed him at first: it was at once heavier and sweeter than he had imagined. He looked for the button, as they called it in his language. He wasn’t experienced, but he found it easily enough, and without wasting any time he started. He moved his head between her labia: they were just high enough that his entire head fit neatly between them. He placed his mouth around her clitoris, as big a mandarin orange, and he started to lick. It came naturally to him. He wanted to please her however he could. He did it a little more, using his lips this time. Julia’s legs shook, and the slave felt her powerful thighs push against him, almost knocking him over. He realized how easy it would be for her to crush him, if she wanted. It that moment that he truly realized just how powerful she was. 

Julia, on the other hand, had always been well aware of how powerful she was. She knew just how easy it would be to crush that poor, lucky slave between her legs. If I actually pushed my thighs together, she thought, or not so accidentally… But she wasn’t about to stop him. This slave wasn’t the best she’d had, Julia thought. He was certainly nowhere near as good as Unum, her first female slave. Julia thought of Unum’s thin fingers and long tongue, and wished she’d brought the slave with her to the Coliseum. And Julia had her share of female friends and servants, some of whom had gotten quite adept at pleasing her over the years. But this one wasn’t bad for a man. Not bad at all. 

To be fair, thought Julia, it wasn’t really fair to hold male slaves to the same standard as women. They’re such pathetic little creatures, and it’s not like they can get much experience. After all, she thought with a smile, I’ve never had a man please me and live to tell the tale. As they say, no man can touch the body of a goddess and live. And I’m practically a goddess. Besides, she thought with a smile, it feels so good to crush them. 

The slave was pleasing Julia, yet she sat up on her couch, careful not to crush the slave between her thighs. Not yet, she thought, not until I’m finished. Julia looked down. Far below, down in the arena, a forty-foot gladiatrix was busy decimating a crowd of gladiators. Julia watched with amusement as the giantess crushed a succession of small guards, stomping on one, then another, crushing them like bugs. She’s a Brute, thought Julia. This fight won’t be easy. But it will be fun.

The Brutes had once been women who reacted poorly to the spice. They would grow bigger and stronger at a rapid pace, but they lost their minds in the process, becoming simple and animalistic. They were considered almost as low as men, the only highborn women who ever became slaves. Sedated and trained properly, they could become laborers or builders, using their impressive strength to lift immense bricks and stones. But some never lost their animalistic nature. Those Brutes became warriors, to be loosed on the enemy in battle like wild dogs. Julia had seen them firsthand, watching from behind the frontlines. They could tear through enemy forces with a mad ferocity, crushing enemies and friends alike. Even smaller Brutes could be deadly. The biggest of them were beautiful whirlwinds of violence and fury. And, thought Julia, they were a hell of a lot of fun to watch. Some of the warriors would be trained as a Gladiatrix: to fight in the arena, like this one, slaughtering woefully outmatched gladiators. 

Julia thought that she could defeat the Gladiatrix. The Brute stood ten feet higher than her, sure, but Julia had trained against larger opponents. The Brute would be strong, and fast, and bloodthirsty, but so was Julia. By the time they fought, thought Julia, the Brute would have been fighting for hours. It would be winded, perhaps even wounded. But there was another reason for her lack of concern. Julia’s personal trainer had given her something, in case the fight got out of hand: a dagger, which felt small in her hand. More of a needle than anything, really. Her trainer told her that the dagger was laced with a rare poison from the Far East. It was a kind of sedative: one swipe, and the Brute would go down, just like that.

Julia watched the Gladiatrix. She moved like a beast, thought Julia, yet her body was utterly feminine. Julia admired the creature’s beauty. Heavy breasts, a round ass, and that young, narrow face… If it wasn’t for her strange gait and her beastlike roars, she could have almost passed for a noblewoman. In fact, maybe she had been once. Julia preferred to kill things she considered ugly: things like men. Although even men, Julia thought as the slave sucked on her, aren’t entirely without a purpose.

Power. It was Julia’s reason for living. She loved having it, and she loved using it, with a kind of recklessness and nonchalance her sister hated and her mother often found distasteful. And in time Julia planned on being Rome’s empress, a position which would give her almost limitless power to abuse. As the firstborn daughter, Julia felt that she was the true heir: even if she had only been born half an hour earlier, and even if the priestesses insisted that they should get to decide. As long as her mother made her Empress, and not her weak sister Livia, it would all be hers. 

As the slave suckled on her womanhood, Julia imagined herself as Empress, with all the might of Rome belonging to her. And the thought pleased her, perhaps even more than the slave’s tongue did. Julia’s eyes shut. This one is good, thought Julia, as he sucked on her clitoris, gently, but not too gently. She bit her tongue. And though Julia said nothing, her lips mouthed a single word, over and over. “yes, yes, yes…”

Julia’s legs convulsed, as they did before an orgasm. The slave didn’t stop; he couldn’t stop. He was enjoying this almost as much as Julia was. And he could tell that she was about to climax. Her legs flung apart, then pressed together. The slave felt her thighs pressing hard against his body. At first, it felt good, being enveloped in the softness of her thighs. But then she pressed together harder, and harder, squeezing the slave’s shoulders and ribs painfully. The slave felt as if her thighs would crush him. Julia yelled out, “yes, yes… Yes!!!” and though the slave didn’t know her language, he understood exactly what she meant. The slave felt a deep shudder go through Julia’s body. Julia’s legs came together, then flew back apart. The slave felt a sense of accomplishment: he had pleased his mistress, and a beautiful mistress, at that. He was a man now. And he was still alive.

Julia felt a deep sense of satisfaction. This slave was talented, for a male. She could leave him alive; keep the slave around for the next time she felt like a good time. But why ruin her perfect record? The slave was still between her thighs. She pressed her legs together, as hard as she could, and felt her powerful thighs crush him. She felt his upper body squeeze flat, felt his bones crush, and felt the warm trickles of blood running down her legs. She spread her legs apart, and the slave’s body, or what was left of it, fell onto the ground in front of her. And for a second, she felt a twinge of something that alien to her: regret. But soon, it faded. 

Julia didn’t have to say a word: her slaves knew what to do. The other slaves came over and dragged away the body, dumping it off the side of the bed, where other slaves would haul it away. Other slaves washed the blood off Julia’s thighs with white towels, which soon became stained with splotches of deep red. Julia picked up one of the slaves and dropped them into her mouth. The other slaves looked up at her for just a second, a shocked look on their faces, and then quickly carried on with their scrubbing. 

The slave barely fit in her mouth. Julia had always wanted to be able to swallow a man whole, to feel a man squirm as he slid down her throat. For now, thought, she didn’t mind having to chew them up first. Julia could feel him sitting on her tongue, his arms flailing wildly against the roof of her mouth. Julia toyed with him for a bit, pushing him around with her tongue. The slave struggled, fighting to get out. He was able to reach a single arm out of her mouth before Julia’s long tongue pulled him back in. Julia started to chew on the slave. He let out a short scream, which stopped as she chewed again. Julia enjoyed the way their flesh tore between her front teeth, the way her molars grinded the men into a thin red paste, the way their pain was transmuted into her pleasure. She chewed on the slave, swallowing him one chunk at a time. 

Julia looked down towards the arena and watched the gladiatrix fight below. I’m looking forward to this fight, she thought as she swallowed the last of the slave. It should be fun. She smiled, blood showing between her white teeth.

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