THE ARENA CLEANER
Posted by Barbanne on March 10, 2004 at 22:07:28:
THE ARENA CLEANER
The caestus smashed into the side of the woman's face and she reeled and I winced.
Both women were completely nude except for the lead loaded gloves covering their hands and their magnificently oiled bodies were powerfully built, meaty and very strong. Globular breasts unshackled by any strophium swung defiantly through the still, warm, air as they battled for supremacy. Graciella and Flavia, two queens of the amazonian galdiatrix troupe were locked in a weaponless match which would only be resolved when one or the other could continue no longer.
Gabriella's caestus slammed once more into Flavia's head and I heard bone snap even from where we waited in the shadowed dugout to the side of the earth floored arena.
"Get ready we're going to be on soon," I called to Cassia.
She nodded, "Always ready when you are Barbarea."
I circled the rope of our cart more firmly with my fingers. Not really a cart, more of a trolley or land sled, it was just a long wide wooden plank mounted on small, well greased wooden wheels with which we transported those who fell in the course of combat back here to the medicinae and mortuaria.
We crept to the edge of the sunshine.
Gabriella was now raining blows on Flavia at will and I saw Flavia's eyes rolling wildly and then she fell to the ground.
The stadii erupted into a cacophony of cat calls and whistling and Cassia and I rushed forward, our cart bouncing along behind us.
When we reached Flavia she was breathing stertorously and blood flecked her lips and trickled from her nose. Gabriella was parading around her fallen body in triumph. Cassia and I, both small girls, struggled to get the gievously hurt Flavia onto our cart and then dashed away dragging her behind us. She was trying to speak but it came out as gibberish and I thought her jaw was broken.
When we got her back into the medicinae the doctae took one very casual look over her and said, "Barbarea, she's too far gone I can't help her anymore. You had better put her down."
"Oh shit I hate that."
"I'm going," said Cassia.
"You stay right there sister. If I gotta do this you gotta help."
"Poop."
We got Flavia off of the cart and onto a table. She was moaning and groaning and bubbling blood and not making sense and the doctae was right, she was stuffed. Cassia and I tied her hands and feet with gilt cords to rings bolted into the corners of the table and all the while she rolled around in heaps of distress. When she was tied down I leaned over her and said, "Forgive me Flavia, but its for the better." Then I jammed a big hessian sack over her face.
She kicked and thrashed and generally went on obviously not appreciating my humane actions.
Finally I scrambled up and sat my bum over the bag and over her face and eventually she slowed down and then shuddered mightily and died.
It was sad.
Cassia and I wept.
I removed the hessian sack from her face. Her tongue was squashing out from between her teeth and her face had taken on a blackish hue. Her dead eyeballs bulged from their sockets peeling her eyelids back.
I untied Flavia's corpse and rolled her onto her side. She had a darkish coloured patch of skin around her poop chute and her pussy. This then would be the place where the sun never shone. Wisps of fine dark hair escaped between her thighs and wriggled out around her adjacent swollen pudendum.
(Author's note: A good mate of mine once told me the reason a girl's asshole and love tunnel are so close together is so that a bloke can use them like the holes in six pack of beer to pick her up and carry her to the footie with him :) can this be true??)
As was always my duty I had to prepare Flavia for her ceremonial burial.
With Cassia's help we got her on her back and I shaved away those errant body hairs making her armpits, pussy and legs smooth as spun silk. Together we washed her hair and braided it into golden cornrows. I fixed up her broken jaw so that it sat naturally in her face and then we used ice to reduce her swollen eyes so that we could close her lids and also to soften the discolouration of her face. After some fiddling around I finally got her tongue back into her mouth. Together we annointed her body with fragrant oils and buffed her to the highest of shines. Then Cassia and I applied cosmetics to bring Flavia to full beauty. Cassia painted her face whle I blushed her body and brought up her nipples and glossed her sex.
We got an Amazonian heroine's bier and covered it with a clean, new, white sheet and laid out Flavia with her legs straight out and her arms by her sides. We scattered roses around her body and then called the pall bearers and these four young gladiatrix acolytes bore Flavia's unclothed corpse back into the arena so that the crowd could pay tribute to her magnificent death.
Of course they hadn't realised she was dead when she was wheeled out and the ring announcer didn't enlighten them to the fact that her actual demise had been to be smothered by the girl who purged the arena of its victims.
Castor had been a promising young gladiator.
Now he was a corpse on my preparation table.
He had been slain by an older, wiser combatant with a quick and unseen thrust of a trident and three neat holes punctured his chest. And what a lovely chest it was. Hard flat pecs with small brown nipples that went with his washboard tight tummy and long sculpted legs. Powerful ams and slender hands and feet and an almost boyish handsomeness of features crowned with curly black hair. And all covered with gleaming brown skin.
Ah! but best of all for us poor frustrated arena cleaners, Castor had died with a monstrous erection. His cock would have done an elephant proud and it now poked straight up from his prone corpse, a glistening pillar of umber flesh straining within its skin like an over filled sausage and veined with once throbbing ribbons and capped with the winking eye of its joy tube whence his semen would once have rushed forth to fill a girl's welcoming vagina with life's seeds. His scrotum barely contained his almost bursting balls still loaded with the cum of his orgasmic death.
Aaaaaaaaaaaaah'.
I turned to Cassia.
"What do you think of that?"
"Mine or yours."
"I'll arm wrassle ya."
"Let's share it."
"OK."
She swallowed the tip and I licked the stem.
Castor, in death, achieved the release he had been denied in life.
The awesome cock slackened and we rolled it onto his thigh.
Then we washed, shaved and oiled his body and applied our cosmetics to remove the semblance of death and prepare him for his triumphant parade on the bier of the revered fallen and having scattered flowers we called for the young trainee galdiators who would bear him around the arena to the adulation of the crowds.
They love a good death do our crowds.
"So what are you two harpies looking so damned pleased about?" asked the senior pall bearer.
"We merely take pride in our work sire," I simpered.
"You are lustful wenches and maybe I should return and best you between the sheets."
"My heart quivers with anticipation my lord."
"Minx. What do you two get up to here with the dead?"
"We prepare them with only the greatest respect sire."
"I think you fuck them, only that would give you that glow."
"Sire how could you say that?"
"Easily slut."
"You embarrass me sire."
"Hah, what say we return here later fellows and see what this witch's pussy is like. Can you accomodate four at once harpy?"
"Please sire............"
He laughed and they hoisted Castor's bier onto their shoulders.
I was glad to see the back of them.
Our secrets are best kept to ourselves.
Three days later Cassia and I dashed out to recover the dying body of the latest loser and surprise, surprise, it was my tormentor from the day of Castor's death. In his first major combat he had proved an instant too late and there you go........carked.
As I wheeled him back I said, "Well, well, young fellow guess who is going to have your corpse to herself?"
He groaned loudly from the pain of his wounds and said, "Treat me well maiden for I am a dead man."
"And you say I like dead men remember?"
"Be compassionate girl."
I cackled loudly and said, "We'll see," and he died.
Spread out nude and cleaned up and oiled, my smart young man looked glorious and I stood over him and crooned, "Now we shall see what we shall see."
He was wonderfully hung and I took his slackened tube in my hands and rolled it between my fingers.
"Mayhap you should have returned and bested me between the sheets sire," I muttered and mayhap even though you return to me helpless and horizontal I can still find pleasure with you," and I swallowed his flaccid cock.
Cassia watched wide eyed.
"Gawd Barbarea," she said, "sometimes you're ultra wierd."
We both laughed a lot.
And now we have been called out again.
The arena mob is well used to the sight of the two braless, pantieless scruffs in their short brown robes, hair flying and sandals clacking, running across the ground trundling their cart of doom to some poor unfortunate. Today four women, two only teenagers, one a mature woman of forty summers, lie in a pile of naked flesh, oozing blood and life and slain for the pleasures of the mob.
Ain't life, or is that death, wonderful?
Cassia and I will enjoy this day's work!