Disclaimer: The following is fiction. The story’s content does not represent the writer’s beliefs, opinions, or attitudes. This story is intended for adult entertainment only. The characters and events depicted in this work are fictional. The author does not condone or promote unlawful activity as described in the story. By continuing to read this work, you acknowledge that you are an adult who wishes to read works of fantasy and fiction for the purpose only of fantasy. All the characters in this story are adults. They may portray different ages for the fictional character they are depicting, but they remain adults at all times.
Writer: Regis
Subject: MODERN ROMAN GAMES 1
Story Codes: Erotic Horror, Snuff, Young Ones
Modern Roman Games 1
Hirschfield, or Hirshydick as I affectionately called him because of his huge penis, got lucky when he met me. I was Homecoming Queen at College, graduated first in my class in American History, and was a competitive beach volleyball player at the state level.
He was an impudent prick, but that was part of his charm, and I must confess what attracted me to him. That and what a marvelous fuck he gave. The first time I saw him, I was playing in a tournament. My partner and I were in the ladies’ pairs and doing well.
He came up behind me, snapped the strap on my bikini top so that it squeezed my sizeable breasts and then stung my back like hell when he released it. That was what he was like — a trickster. At the same time, on the beach court after the game, without even introducing himself, he pulled the most outrageous stunt.
He had a photographer duck low in front of me, framing my groin. He grasped the back of my bikini bottom and pulled it out so hard that the crotch bundled into my vagina and spread rather than covered the lips, and then he posted the image on both Facebook and Instagram!
Thank God my face wasn’t in the close-up shot, as it went viral. Unfortunately, my tell-tale faint birthmark high on my left inner thigh was evident, and most of my friends who saw it knew immediately who it was. To apologize he invited me to dinner, and we started dating.
He took me home to his penthouse apartment that first date, explaining he always needed to score on a first date if things were going to move forward. During foreplay, he put on some of his ‘private’ videos. He said it put him in the mood better, and I wasn’t going to argue.
A couple of them were of people performing sex for the cameras, one amateur shocker with a young woman probably in her mid-twenties performing oral sex with her eleven-year-old daughter while her boyfriend fucked the girl, but most of them were more professional clips of naked women, mostly about fighting.
I couldn’t believe it, and what was most surprising was that I found them more sexually stimulating than I could believe. In my sorority at college, we would sometimes have fight nights with other sororities. We would always invite over the presidents of the fraternities, just to have a few men present.
Our sorority always took part, and it was the first year we had done it. After the first couple of times, we wrestled nude. I was pretty good at it and usually won. From then on, the girls insisted I be on our team, and I found it better if I shaved my groin clean, to make a finger in the cunt grip a tougher move. Girls would try anything to win.
Being a good fighter got me some dates with those presidents, and on a couple of occasions, two or three of us would go over to a fraternity to give them a demonstration of how exciting it could be to watch naked girls getting it on.
It got me a few scratches and a couple of black eyes, but also a lot of nights in the sack fucking with some amazing fuckers. Less than a week after we started dating, Hirshydink took me to Europe, and after visiting a couple of cities, we ended up in Rome.
To show me how much he liked me, he bought me some extravagant gold spike-heeled shoes with strap tops that were remarkable, as they made my legs look longer and much sexier, the way cunts should. Everyone looked at me when I walked by.
While I was being fitted, another woman, also an American, was trying on the same shoes, and the gentleman with her was so complimentary when she stood to walk in them that she got them as well. I thought she looked sexier, too.
These open gold spike heeled sandals seemed to be very popular, and for good reason; they made the wearer’s feet and legs look spectacular. On our third day in Rome, Hirshydick talked a lot about Roman history, and in particular, a topic that seemed to fascinate him.
He knew Rome well and took me on a tour of ancient ruins that was mostly through the Roman Coliseum, with particular attention to the exposed underground where the holding pens were for participants, as most of them were involuntary fighters.
Hirshydick proved to be a great fan of the ancient Roman gladiators who would fight, usually to the death, on the hot sands of the coliseum floor. He told me they were often depicted in medieval and later art as wearing special armor and, leather vests, and skirts.
He said that was what the artists decided was appropriate, but in fact, he said accurate all the records showed they usually fought naked. He also said documentation of the time showed that the men fighting in the pit would often sport raging and cum-dribbling erections.
He said their full pendular scrotums rocked wildly from their groins as they plunged with their swords or spears, and further that they would actually ejaculate when they made a kill. He told me that story twice on our tour, and both times I heard it, I began an orgasm. Isn’t that funny? Gladiators killing and ejaculating!
He took me into a secret underground library. It was full of Roman art, most if it never made public because of its highly sexual content. It existed only here, with access only to the privileged few, with backups in a secret underground archive.
The modern-day Romans had an appreciation for their history, no matter how colorful. In these secret catacombs, I saw realistic drawings of naked gladiators, including close-ups of their shaved groins sporting massive upward curving erections depicted from a low point of view, so that their veins and swinging balls were central.
It was impressive. In several of the explicit drawings, the men were shown spurting great gobs of semen. Of course, when he showed me the proof of his claim, I thought it was both disgusting and interesting. I’d never heard of men ejaculating when they killed before.
For me, it was a hot new idea, which is probably why I came when he said it. Both times. I mean, I’m a modern girl, not a prude, and I do have some interest in such things. We also saw lots of drawings of female genitalia, cunts, both of naked women and young girls.
They were wrestling, or being bound and tortured for the amusement of an audience. There were also drawings of naked females of various ages engaged in extreme nude fights, some between women, as well as some depicting them fighting against men.
The young girls, some as young as six, were particularly aggressive and driven, shown in the drawings to be unrelenting and merciless. When a girl was downed by her opponent, the victor would stand with a foot on the downed girl’s chest.
She held the tip of her blade at the dominated girl’s throat or inserted it into her cuntlet, and she would jab it in deep, cruelly dispatching the loser for the amusement of the crowd. The drawings were of impressive quality and very explicit, depicting the ripping and gutting of naked females as an integral part of the entertainment.
The pit was a place of death, and it was clear there was open sexual excitement on the part of the combatants, or at least in the mind of the artists who were drawing the extreme violence. They would have seen the massacres first-hand, so they had to be authentic.
Hirshydick said that often a nude gladiator would take on three naked women in the arena at once, or sometimes five or six young pre-pubescent girls, and would just keep on attacking them, stabbing and hacking with his sword until he’d killed them all. That is if they didn’t kill him first.
He said the women didn’t always lose, although they usually did, as the fans loved to see a naked woman being sliced and diced alive. That was a speciality of many of the brave gladiators. In addition to their sword, many also carried a gutting blade for convenience.
Hirshydick told me most of the women and girls used in the arena were Christians, because generally people didn’t like them, and that gave the Roman mob something to focus on with the appropriate amount of hate. That made the gore that followed more palatable.
He told me some of the women became very good fighters, using swords, tridents, nets, clubs, stabbing blades and other killing weapons. The naked fighters became good at it out of necessity, because if they didn’t, they were toast.
A lot of women, as they gained experience on the arena floor, became skilled with their weapons, so that when a veteran bitch was entered, the killing of a man was not that uncommon. Because they couldn’t ejaculate, women victors usually pissed on their fallen foe.
“This is where they held the lions and leopards which were to appear that day,” he said, showing me small pens near the entrance ramp to the Coliseum floor. “They sometimes fought each other, but more often were set loose on gladiators, or defenseless naked females.
“That was feeding time, a highly popular part of the lethal entertainment. The citizens loved watching naked females being ripped and consumed alive. Often, the big ravenous cats were turned loose against naked little girls armed with only a rudimentary wooden weapon.
“The big cats were very expensive, as they had to be captured and transported a long way to become part of the activity in the Coliseum. Young, attractive females were, on the other hand, very easy to obtain, and their lives were of little value.”
“Did those things really happen?” I asked, incredulous.
“Abso-fucking-lutely!” he replied. “The Romans really appreciated active and sexually stimulating sport. That’s what brought them out to the Coliseum, sometimes several times a week. It was Caesar’s main pacifier of the population of Rome.
“The lions and leopards needed to eat, so what’s wrong with having an audience watch? They loved to see a big cat rip, eat and kill a naked woman or girl. They ate the nude young females alive, and the people in the audience were always gladiators.
“Now that’s funny. Gladiator. ‘Glad he ate her!’ Get it? Hirshydick had a great if weird, sense of humor. While we were in bed that night and he was giving me one of his amazing power fucks, he said he had a friend in Rome who needed a date the next night, and wondered if I’d be willing to do him a favor.
That seemed a strange thing for him to ask, particularly while we were traveling, but I was always interested in riding a new cock for a change. The men of Rome were reputed to be master lovers, and I was anxious to find out, so I said I was in.
After all, he’d paid for my trip to Europe, and bought me the amazing gold spike-heeled shoes, took me to the museum, and was very nice to me the whole time. He was an amazing lover and knew how to make a woman orgasm repeatedly as he came.
Hirshydick was also the only man who ever spread my buttocks and got his tongue against and even into my anus. Nobody’d ever done that to me before, and I loved it, particularly when his hand was on my cunt with his fingers rubbing up my clit.
I loved being so well attended to, so when he asked for the favor, I thought it was the least I could do. Just after lunch the next day, the friend showed up in a white Spyder Lamborghini, the top down on the sunny day, displaying bright red leather upholstery.
Hirshydick introduced him as Libido, which I thought was a curious name, but the Italian guy was muscular, good-looking, rich and built like a stud. I was impressed and got in the car. I would have no trouble getting into bed and fucking a guy like him.
We drove out of the city onto winding country roads through fields and over hills. It was the kind of road cars like this were built for. Libido was a good driver, and the ride was thrilling. We went into a range of low mountains, and at last came to what looked like an ancient village in a little valley. It was the kind you’d find on postcards.
After checking into a quaint hotel, we got back in the car, and he drove into a little valley right behind the village. In it was an ancient Roman arena, almost like a little Coliseum. There were several expensive cars parked in the lot beside it, and parking in a convenient spot, we got out and went into the stone structure.
It was, like the major one in Rome, an open pit arena, with iron-gated entrances to the arena on its eight-foot walls. Anyone fighting in this space would have no retreat. It was smaller inside than I expected. I guessed that it could accommodate no more than 150 spectators. I wondered what kind of performances were held here.
Being in the little valley with only one opening on the village side, it appeared to be very private, with no signs on the road announcing its presence. If they were so inclined, the owners could likely hold any kind of illegal event they wanted, and nobody would be the wiser. It was a perfect setup for doing whatever they wanted with impunity.
Libido suggested we check under the stands and led the way through a small ramp. He opened a heavy wooden door, and when I went in, I was more than a little shocked at what was before me. About a dozen women, naked except for gold heels exactly like mine, were strapped into reclining chairs, their legs spread, as hairdressers and makeup artists attended to them.
At that point, I nearly shit myself. One of them was the woman I had seen in the shoe store, getting the same shoes I wore. This was not random; these people ran a fucking organization! Libido pointed to an empty chair, told me to get out of my clothes and sit in it. I was going to be nothing but another naked lady!
I of course protested, but he and another man took hold of me and ripped off my top and skirt, destroying them in the process. My bra and panties followed, all thrown into a bin with other clothing, and I was forced to sit back in the chair. My arms and legs were bound, and I was suddenly nothing more than a captive bitch.
“Fucking Shit!” I screamed before a wide band of duct tape was firmly pressed across my mouth, as had already been done to all of the other ladies. It seemed these pricks were not interested in our screams or the blasphemy we would otherwise produce. They were all business, and it appeared completely professional.
A woman and an effeminate man went to work on my hair and my body makeup, with particular attention given to decorating my clean-shaved cunt. The woman went so far as to give me some injections around my labia, causing some swelling that apparently would provide an enhanced look.
I resented the affront to my organ, but then noticed some of the others who had received the same kind of treatment looked pretty cool. If your cunt’s going to be displayed, it better look good. I could only remember being naked in public at Hook-up Beach, where everyone went to get balled. That was different. Here it was just us.
From what I could guess, we were going to appear in the arena ring, as naked as we were now. What I anticipated with more than a little concern was that we might be forced into some faux competition, like gladiatrixes or something as bizarre. That’s the kind of foolish thing in which someone might get hurt.
The nearby village was too small to have a hospital. The nearest one that might be found would be in Rome, almost an hour’s drive away. What were these people up to, and why were they restraining us like this? To inject our vaginas was an intolerable impudence, maybe even a total outrage, but what were they planning?
At first, it began with what sounded like some distant conversation outside the holding room, somewhere in the small stadium, but it gradually became a constant buzz, and I realized the stands were beginning to fill. People were arriving to witness a show in the arena!
‘Holy fuck,’ I thought, ‘I’m going to be put naked on public display, along with these other girls.’
When the technicians were finished preparing our hair and putting makeup on our genitals and bodies, all of us were unstrapped from the reclining chairs. We stood in our gold spikes, each of us examining the others. Apparently, we were all strangers.
We were left alone for about ten minutes, and took that short time to introduce ourselves. All of the others were more mature, most in their late twenties, and it turned out I was the only one who was not an ascending business executive.
Like me, they had been lured here by men they had mistakenly thought were gentlemen. Like me, they had been deceived. God, at this moment, I absolutely hated men. They were such assholes. If only they didn’t have such marvelous penises.
Several of the women were American, there were three French, two Germans and an English woman, who was the oldest at thirty-two, and like us all, had a knock-out figure. All of the other women were as fit and beautiful as me. All of us had great figures, large breasts and looked stunning standing in our gold spike heeled shoes.
It was immediately obvious that the taste of these people was for long-legged, educated, gorgeous young women in golden spike heels and with dramatically enhanced vaginas. I had to admit, even from a distance our cunts would look fantastic. That was the nature of what they had done to improve our already gorgeous female organs.
What would be expected of us once we entered the arena pit was a mystery. The first clue was disheartening, to say the least. Four men entered the room carrying a variety of weapons, including spears, tridents, nets, swords and a hacking blade. As they started distributing them, I realized we were going to have to stage a nude fight with these sharp weapons, and without any kind of rehearsal!
THE END OF CHAPTER ONE