I'm smart, but I'm a fool for women. They're the only reason I still fight in the Arena from time to time. I don't have a reputation to protect, since no one comes close to my skill level and everyone knows it. No, it's a lot more basic than that. It's money. Soft, glowing, golden coins, ringing with the clear sound that denotes purity as they fall from my fingers into the greedy grasp of my latest bit of fluff. They ask, and I can't refuse. Like I said, I'm a fool for them. I buy them trinkets, I buy them clothes and jewels; hell, I pay off the parents of the better-bred ones when they start asking too many questions.

Which means, of course, that every now and then I need to replenish the coffers, and the Arena offers the easiest money I know how to get. The risk is small, although any match could theoretically end in death. Of course, nobody's going to be stupid enough to bet on me losing, so the bookies and I worked out a deal. I allow one touch per match, but only the head bookie and I know when and where it's going to be. The audience bets on how much time will pass before I let my opponent's point brush across my skin, and where the touch will hit. It's a good system for everyone, especially me. That's because I have one of my servants place an appropriate wager just before the books are closed for the match. I'm careful to keep my winnings reasonable, so the bookies turn a blind eye to my manipulations. The women I fight get a good deal, since I hardly ever kill anymore. After all, if I killed every opponent I faced, soon I wouldn't have any. The system would break down, and the lovely stream of gold would end. All in all, it's an excellent system for everyone.

Then she came along. She was incredible -- like no woman I'd ever had before, and I've had so many I've lost count of the number. Oh, but she was different. Well-bred but not too well-bred, if you know what I mean, and she moved through the marketplace with the grace of a gazelle stepping through the tall grass. She had flashing dark eyes that made erotic promises over her veil, and when we finally spoke, she had a manner that mixed carnality with the demure in a way that kept me awake at night, sweating in the darkness. She was soft in all the right places, but she had sleek muscles like a cat when her robes came off. Not that I got to see her with her robes off for a good long time, of course. Gods, how she kept me dangling! This jewel here, that length of silk there, a cask of the best wine somewhere else... by the time she finally led me into her bedchamber, I was as well and truly hooked as any fish could be. I was also nearly broke.

Still, thoughts of money were far from my mind once she had me writhing like that hooked fish. It happened so quickly I was never sure exactly when I had lost control of the situation. Or if I'd ever had it, for that matter. At the time, I couldn't have cared less, since I was bound tightly to Cornelia's bedposts with her fingers inside me and her mouth clamped onto me. Nothing mattered, except that she not stop what she was doing! She didn't, thank the Gods, until I was limp and sweaty and hoarse and completely sated. So I thought, at least, until she started touching me again.

She started slowly this time, working three fingers deep into my soaking wet cunt, but soon I was mewling with pleasure as I felt myself stretched open by four fingers. It was almost too much, and I groaned as she tried to force the whole width of her palm into my straining body.

"No... Cornelia, wait!" I gasped, and she gave me a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry, Erika, I won't hurt you." She reached for a small bottle that stood beside the bed. I smiled in relief as she poured viscous, golden oil from it and spread a thick layer over her hand and wrist. It was rose-scented, and the sweet fragrance mixed agreeably with the earthier aroma of sex and sweat. I lifted my hips as far as the ropes tying me to her bed would let me, then, as all four of her fingers slipped back into my quivering sex. Ah, the pleasure that woman knew how to give! Patiently, she twisted and curled her fingers inside me until-- Gods, yes! Her whole hand was inside me, and I was crying out in ecstasy again.

When I was next aware of the world around me, Cornelia was rocking her fist back and forth in my belly and teasing my clit with her tongue. I wasn't sure I could survive another bout with her, but she gave me no choice. Neither did the growing pressure inside me, for that matter, and I was soon thrashing in my bonds and begging her not to stop. But she did stop, and raised her head to give me a sphinx-like smile. Her hand stayed inside me, though, and I tried to impale myself more deeply on it as I waited for her to bring her mouth back to me. Instead, she spoke.

"What will you give me if I keep going?"

"Anything! Any... thing!" I panted, still trying to bear down on her fist.

"You have a match tomorrow, don't you?" I did, and it was none too soon. Thanks to my pursuit of Cornelia, I had barely two sesterces to rub together. I nodded. "Aren't you worried that you'll be too tired to fight?" she asked curiously, doing something inside me that made me arch and cry out.

"No," I said, when I could speak again. "It's only Lycastra." She raised an eyebrow.

"But isn't Lycastra good? I've heard that she's ranked second among the swordswomen." I gave her a jaunty grin, and replied:

"Ah, but there's a big difference between first and second, sweetheart. Now, if you wouldn't mind...?" I gave her a significant look, and glanced down to where her arm disappeared inside my body. Gods! I could see the outline of her fist, deeper than I'd ever been taken before. I ground my hips again and moaned.

"Soon enough, soon enough" she crooned, still smiling. "You'll allow her one touch, won't you?" Beyond words now, I nodded. "Where will it be, this touch?" I shook my head, and managed to find a bit of coherence somewhere.

"Can't say. I'll tell the bookies tomorrow... ahh!!!" Her wicked, wicked tongue was on me again, and I was so very close-- again, she stopped!

"What will you give me?" Gods, she was persistent!

"Cornelia, in the name of Venus, what do you want?!"

"I want to choose the time and place of the touch, tomorrow. Only tomorrow, Erika. Give me that." Her head dipped to my clit for a moment, and I gave a hoarse scream.

"I can't, I ca-- oh, GODS! Yes, yes, all right! Please, Cornelia, please!" I flung my head back, fully expecting to pass out when I came, but Cornelia raised her head once more. "I agreed, woman! Finish me or let me go, and I'll do it myself!" I didn't want to be let go, however, and the little minx knew it.

"Oh, I'm just choosing my time and place, Erika. Hush, now; it will only take a moment. Let's see...." I followed her gaze, and saw again the outline of her fist in my belly. "I think... right here!" Her head dipped again, but this time her teeth fastened on my skin just over the outline, about halfway between my navel and my cunt. She sucked my flesh into her mouth in a savage love-bite, but the pain only added to my need. When she looked up and smiled at me again, there was a livid bruise marking her target.

"When?" I gasped urgently, burning up with desire.

"Three minutes into the match. Yes, precisely three minutes in. Do you swear on your honor?"

"Yes, yes... three minutes into the match, and on the spot you've marked. Now, please...!" I was out of control, flinging myself against my bonds, but the teasing was over. I remember an explosion of pleasure the likes of which I wouldn't have believed possible, and then darkness.

When I woke up, I had been untied and decently covered. Her servants were waiting with a bath, and then fresh clothes and a meal, but the mistress of the house was nowhere to be seen. When I asked after her, the major domo told me that she had been called away, and had left a note for me. He gave it to me and I opened it eagerly. "Until tomorrow, in the Arena" it read, and it was scented with rosewater. Tucking the note into the breast of my tunic, I set out for home, whistling.

The next morning found me in the Gladiator's Arena, anxious to get on with the match. We only fought in the Colisseum on feast days and such, or when the Emperor wanted to show me off to foreign dignitaries. Thus, the Arena was a lot less fancy. It was smaller, built of wood instead of marble, and the seats were a lot closer to the action. The audience members weren't in any danger, of course, since only professionals fought here. So, I arrived, and was soon warming up. I was a little stiff, it's true, but I'd fought better opponents that Lycastra while feeling worse than this. Not that she wasn't good, as Cornelia had mentioned, just that I was better. Much better. Jogging around the circumference as part of my warm up routine, I waved to the gathering crowds of spectators until I met the head bookie in the usual place, and passed him the information he was waiting for.

"Betting is very active today," he observed. "Very active. In fact, one--" I saw Cornelia enter the stands, and waved him off.

"I'll see you after the match, Rufio!" I called, and sprinted across the warm sand toward my new love. He shouted something after me, but I just waved my hand over my shoulder and kept going. I didn't reach Cornelia, though, since my opponent entered just as I arrived at the other side of the Arena. She was a slim, dark-haired Roman woman, and she raised a patrician brow at me as I came running across the sand.

"Why such haste, Erika?" Lycastra taunted. "You must be eager to lose." I laughed, and the on-lookers laughed with me. Even Lycastra grinned, and I clapped her on the shoulder.

"I'm eager indeed, Lycastra -- but not to lose! Come, the crowd's here, and the betting is about to close. Let's arm ourselves and fight!" She nodded, and we both left for our respective arming rooms, which in the Arena were no more than small tents set up on opposite sides of the sand. I stepped into mine and dropped my tunic so the trainer could oil my body. He whistled sharply as he saw the dark purple and red bruise on my belly.

"Who the hell were you with last night, Erika? A wildcat?" he exclaimed. I just smiled, and turned so that he could oil my back. When he had finished, I picked up my gladius and started warming up my arms and shoulders. Still shaking his head, the trainer left. I tried to stretch last night's languor from my muscles, then headed out into the sun again. I wanted to see my Cornelia, if only from a distance. My eyes narrowed against the glare, I searched the stands for her delicate form. I found her at last and gave her an extravagant bow, flourishing my sword dramatically. She seemed amused, and sent me another of her inscrutable smiles.

Then Lycastra stepped out of her arming tent, naked and oiled as I was, and I brought my attention to the match. We started off slowly, each of us testing her opponent with short swings and tentative lunges. But the crowd was restive and we began to hear catcalls, so we stepped up the pace. Lycastra was fighting with her weapon of choice, a curved, three-foot cavalry spatha. I fought with a shorter, heavier gladius, partly because I knew the crowd loved the extra drama of the apparent mismatch. What they didn't know, however, was that an experienced swordswoman could turn many a so-called disadvantage to her own favor, so that's just what I proceeded to show them. Feinting at her belly and legs, I drew Lycastra into trying an overhand blow. Then, as soon I saw that she'd committed to the move, I darted beneath her guard and struck her sword a heavy blow near the hilt, driving her blade up over her head and very nearly disarming her. She kept her grip, but it was too late. The edge of my gladius ghosted across her throat, and the judge's horn sounded.

"Point for Erika!" he cried, and the crowd cheered me. I bowed to them, then kissed my fingers in Cornelia's direction. Her smile had grown a bit strained, so I grinned at her to show her that I'd been in no real danger. She seemed to be reassured, and I turned back to the match. Lycastra nodded to me, her features intent. We circled each other again, and I stole a look at the sand-clock. One minute. Just then, Lycastra attacked, her long blade whistling down toward my shoulder. I danced aside, using my heavier blade to redirect her strike away from my body.

"Too slow, Lycastra!" I mocked her. "Getting soft in your old age?"

She merely growled and attacked again, this time leading with her point. Here again, I used the length of her sword against her, since it was relatively easy to beat her tip aside with the forte of my gladius. Relatively easy if your timing is superb, of course, but mine was. I checked the clock again. Nearly two minutes; time to score another touch on my opponent. I gave her a high opening again, but she wasn't buying it, so I decided to try the old "trip yourself" trick. Charging forward with my sword whirling in a flurry of blows, I pretended to trip on something in the sand and fall. Lycastra's eyes lit up, and she dashed forward to strike. It was a bad move. I'd twisted my "fall" into a controlled dive, and the horn sounded again as I knelt in the sand at her feet, the tip of my blade pressed against her belly. My short blade had given me the advantage again. Lycastra swore, teetering on her toes as her momentum nearly impaled her on the sword, and the crowd screamed my name in approbation at the flashy move. I kept her there a moment longer, while others in the crowd bayed for her blood, then sprang back.

"Second point to Erika!" came the judge's bellow, and once more I turned to look for Cornelia. Ah, my sensitive lover! She was deathly pale, leaning forward and gripping the edge of the wall that separated the seats from the Arena proper. Clearly, the strain was too much for her, and I would have to insist that she no longer watch my matches. Poor dear, she could not know that Lycastra had been the endangered one, not I!

We resumed, and the sand-clock showed two and a half minutes. Time to set up the touch. Lycastra's expression was grim, and I knew she'd gotten a scare from our previous exchange. I was betting she would be anxious to make me pay for it, and that my own belly would now be a particularly attractive target for her. So, I would let the crowd see why Lycastra had chosen her spatha, since by now they must be wondering. I would draw her into another exchange, and try to duck under her guard again. This time, however, I was confident that Lycastra would be ready. Her point would drop to my belly, knowing that my shorter gladius could not reach her, and she'd do her best to impale me. The second I felt her steel touch my skin, I would dive to the side. Lycastra would have her touch, Cornelia would have her bargain, and I would have the gold and Cornelia. Perfect.

I set the move up, and Lycastra was in just the right position. As the last grain of sand began to drop, I lunged. Even as I flung myself into the attack, I knew that something was terribly wrong, but it was too late. Standing in the Arena, the crowd's incredulous screams ringing in my ears and Lycastra's blade buried in my belly, I realized what it had been. Lycastra had moved before I had. She had known exactly what I was going to do! The horn must have sounded, and the judge must have awarded the death-point, but I heard none of it. I stood frozen, then began to tremble as the pain hit me. I felt the tears in my skin where her sword had entered and then exited my body, neatly bisecting Cornelia's love-bite, and then my bowels began to burn. Blood was trickling down my belly and my lower back, and I could feel a deep chill taking over the rest of me. I groaned, then suddenly collapsed against Lycastra and caught her around the shoulders with my left arm.

"Auuuughh... Gods, it hurts!" I gasped, then gazed into my opponent's knowing eyes. "How... ugh... how did you... know?" For there was no question in my mind. Lycastra had to have known. She leaned forward and whispered one word into my ear.

"Cornelia."

"NO!" I cried out, my heart refusing to believe what my mind knew had to be true. "No, not.... AAAHH!" Lycastra had jerked her blade mostly out of my belly, drawing her arm back so that only the last foot of steel was still inside me.

"Yes, Cornelia!" she hissed. "Yes, Cornelia. My lover of the last five years, Cornelia. Did you even ask if she had a lover before you pressed your revolting attentions on her, you barbarian pig?" With that, she slammed her spatha back in, all the way through me, so hard that its hilt bruised my flesh and doubled me over her arm. Hanging there, my guts ripped and bleeding, it occurred to me to chuckle at the idea that I could possibly have taken adantage of Cornelia. But the pain was too intense, and all I could do was hang there draped over Lycastra's sword-arm, knowing that the most I could hope for now was a quick death.

This is where you came in, isn't it? I bet (old habits are hard to break) that you think the story's over, don't you? Oh, but I had one more chapter to write, even if I would have to do it in my own blood.

I hung there for an interminable moment, trying not to scream. Then Lycastra made a disgusted sound and pushed me away from her, yanking her sword out of my ravaged belly as she did. I fell to the sand, clutching my wound with one hand and my gladius with the other. As I said, old habits are hard to break. My hand seemed to sink into the wound, though, and I looked down to see that my murderer -- for that's what she was -- had slashed my belly open as she withdrew her blade. In my agony, I hadn't felt myself being half-gutted. I felt it now, though, and began to writhe in the hot sand. Over my choked screams, I heard a too-familiar voice cry out, and forced myself to look to my left.

"Oh, brava, Lycastra! Brava!" Cornelia shouted, leaning over the edge of the wall and waving her scarf frantically. She was grinning wildly, and I realized that her earlier anxiety had not been for me, but for her lover. But what did they hope to gain? Or had Cornelia been found out in our affair, and told Lycastra that I had raped her? Well, I would fix that. Stifling my own cries, I beckoned to Lycastra. When she bent close to hear me, keeping a wary eye on the blade I still held, I forced the words out.

"She... wanted me, Lycastra. Don't... AAHH! Don't believe the bitch if she told you...." I stopped, for Lycastra was sneering at me.

"You think with your cunt, Erika, and everyone knows it. Cornelia planned this from start to finish, and thanks to your bestial lusts, it worked perfectly. I'll have your title, and the money we've made today will keep us for the rest of our lives."

"What?" I gasped, and shook my head weakly. "No... no way... odds... weren't that high... not for the belly...." Lycastra sneered again.

"A fool to the end, I see. She bet on the kill!" Her voice dropped to a seductive murmur. "Tell me, Erika, did I feel as good inside you as she did?" With a harsh laugh, she stood and turned to walk over to her co-conspirator, my true murderer. It all made sense, now. What Rufio had tried to tell me, the unusual excitement of the crowd... of course. The odds must have been astronomical. But wait... Lycastra had said that "she," meaning Cornelia, had placed the fatal bet. That meant only Cornelia could collect, and as the cold, clear calm that comes over me in mortal danger descended on my mind, I knew I could not allow that to happen.

My brain calculated force and trajectory automatically as my body lay quivering on the sand. Even the pain seemed distant as my whole being focused on one task, and my eyes locked onto my target. With an explosive groan, I whipped my sword-arm across my body, and my gladius flew from my hand like an arrow. Everything dropped into slow motion: the flare of agony in my belly as something else tore; people turning to shout warnings to Lycastra, far too late; Lycastra ducking as the blade flew past her ear, clipping off a few strands of hair; and at last the thunk of the gladius as it plunged through Cornelia's belly and into the wood behind her.

Our screams rang out in concert, then, as Cornelia fell back against her seat and my follow-through pulled me onto my side, lying half-curled around my wounded belly. After a moment of shocked silence, the crowd noise rose to yet another astonished crescendo.

"Impossible!" I heard, and "Mars himself couldn't have made that throw!" The sweetest sound, though, was Lycastra's bellow of grief. I heard it clearly, despite the noise, and curled my lips back from my teeth as she vaulted the wall and tried to catch her lover in her arms. Cornelia was pinned fast, though, and kept screaming as she scrabbled at the hilt of the sword that impaled her. Lycastra turned to give me a murderous look -- as if that could matter to me now -- and snatched a dagger from a nearby spectator. I watched in satisfaction as she bent to whisper something in Cornelia's ear, then drove the dagger into her heart. She stepped back, the knife dropping from her bloody fingers, and Cornelia slumped forward in death. There is no mistaking the absolute stillness of a corpse, but I looked twice just to be sure. Yes, it looked like she was-- Lycastra had returned.

She kicked me over onto my back, and I groaned as a long loop of bowels slipped from my grasp and spilled out across the sand. I tipped my head back in the gladiator's traditional surrender and closed my eyes as I waited for my throat to be slashed. The crowd grew quiet, waiting for her to finish me, so I was able to hear the sand crunch as, instead of stepping to my head, Lycastra knelt between my parted thighs. Then I heard her venomous whisper.

"Oh, no. It's not going to be that easy for you, Erika. Not after what you did to my beloved Cornelia!" I bared my teeth at the sound of that now-hated name, and painfully raised my head to look at her. I flinched from the sight of the terrible wound in my belly, then my eyes widened as Lycastra pointed her sword at me and drove it forward.

"AAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Arching and thrashing helplessly, I gave a protracted howl of agony as her blade plunged through my cunt and destroyed my womb. Blood flowed over my thighs, and I clutched my slashed belly uselessly as cold metal ripped into my bowels from the inside. Its progress slowed as it hit the packed mass of my intestines, but did not stop. Then the last traces of my strength left me, and convulsing weakly, I fell back onto the bloody sand. My shrieks died away to moans, and I could hear Lycastra grunting as she shoved her blade deeper into my entrails. It takes more muscle to impale someone like this than you'd think, and she has a lighter build than mine. She was determined, though, and soon blood spurted from my mouth as the sword was shoved between my lungs. Suddenly, I was drowning in blood. I coughed it, it sprayed from my lips as I tried to breathe, and I could feel it filling my damaged lungs. I was fully impaled. Lycastra's weapon had only to be nudged a bit deeper to destroy my heart, and I could feel the steel inside me shift as she tightened her grip on its hilt. Darkness obscured my vision, and even my moans had been reduced to breathy little choking gasps.

"Wait..." I choked out, struggling to turn my head to the side. "Ahhhhhh...!"

"What?" asked Lycastra, breathing heavily from her rage and her exertions.

"I just... want..." I paused to cough, "one... more... look...."

"Why? You killed her!" Lycastra snarled, and tried to twist her sword in my body. It was too deeply embedded. Still, I writhed for her obligingly as its edges sliced me anew.

"UUUUUNNNNGHHHH!! No... wait...." I started coughing again, and Lycastra stopped until I could speak. I blinked to clear my vision, and managed to turn my head to the left. There she was, the traitorous bitch, still slumped against the back of her seat. A couple of men were half-heartedly trying to pull my blade out of her belly, but it was jammed between the wooden slats. She was pinned like a butterfly -- a very dead butterfly. The silken robes I'd purchased for her were soaked with blood from the waist down, and marked at the breast where Lycastra's dagger had given her the coupe-de-grace. "I just... want..." My voice was fading, and my killer bent down to hear me.

"What do you want?" she asked, almost civilly.

"To... make sure... that... the bitch is... dead!" I groaned, and gave her a blood-stained grin of victory. Lycastra reared back, fury coming over her features like a black cloud.

"Scream for me one more time, cunt!" she spat, and finally rammed her sword the last handspan deeper into my body. I felt crushing pain as the steel tore my heart in two, and I screamed for her. I could afford it, after all.