Author's thought: "Actually, I'm not too fond of this chapter, but since it's already written, I'm uploading it."
The summons came as dusk began to fall, when the shadows within the ludus stretched long and swallowed the last vestiges of light. Lucretia wanted him in the villa.
Ulysses stepped into the Domina's private lounging room. The sweet scent of wine and lily perfume greeted him, a sharp contrast to the smell of iron and sweat he had just left. The room was more crowded than usual.
Lucretia reclined on her sofa like a satisfied cat. Around her sat women whose faces were becoming increasingly familiar to Ulysses. There was Licinia, whose eyes immediately gleamed with hunger upon seeing him. There was Domitia, who watched him with cold, analytical curiosity. And beside Lucretia, with the haughtiest posture of all, was Ilithyia. Her beautiful, pale face showed an arrogant boredom, but her icy blue eyes burned with the potential for cruelty.
Soon after Ulysses entered, the door opened again. Naevia and Mira were ushered in by a guard. Naevia lowered her head, her body trembling slightly. Mira walked with a straight back and an expressionless face, but Ulysses's Basic Psychology could detect the tension in her jawline.
Ilithyia chuckled, a sound like breaking glass. "What kind of show have you prepared for us tonight, Lucretia?"
Lucretia smiled at her guests, then her cold gaze fell upon the three slaves standing in the center of the room.
"My friends are feeling a bit bored," she said, her voice soft yet deadly. "Entertain us."
A momentary silence.
"The three of you," Lucretia continued, her smile widening as she saw the confusion on their faces. "Now."
The command hung in the air. An absolute, undeniable order. Ulysses felt his blood run cold. He saw utter panic in Naevia's eyes, a small, barely audible whimper escaping her lips. He saw Mira close her eyes for a split second, the only sign that the command had pierced her steel mask.
They were puppets. And the Dominas were an audience hungry for drama.
Ilithyia leaned forward, a cruel smile now playing on her lips. Licinia licked her own lips.
In that frozen moment, Ulysses moved. Not towards one of the women, but he took one small step forward, positioning himself slightly in front of Naevia and Mira. A subtle movement that instinctively placed him as a shield, receiving the brunt of the Dominas' gaze.
His eyes met Mira's. He saw a flash of understanding there. Then he turned to the trembling Naevia. He gave a very small, almost imperceptible nod, a gesture invisible to anyone but those desperately looking for it.
The message was silent, yet clear. I am with you. We face this together. We will endure.
He then turned, untied the crimson fabric at his waist, and knelt on the expensive rug. The show was about to begin.
Ulysses rose from his kneeling position. The Dominas' gazes felt like whips on his back. He ignored the trembling Naevia and approached Mira. A deliberate choice. Mira was more stoic, her defenses higher. If he could respectfully breach that wall, perhaps there was hope to get through this night without completely breaking them.
He stood before Mira, who stared back at him with empty eyes, ready to receive commands. Ulysses did not touch her. He just looked at her, trying to convey a message through his gaze. I will not hurt you more than necessary.
He heard an impatient clicking of tongues from the sofa. Ilithyia.
Slowly, Ulysses reached out and touched Mira's chin, lifting her face slightly. He leaned down and gave her a very gentle kiss on her forehead. A gesture utterly out of place amidst this spectacle of depravity.
Mira flinched in surprise. Her empty eyes now showed a flicker of confusion.
Ulysses then led her to the center of the rug, laying her down slowly. He knelt between her open thighs. He could see Licinia on the sofa leaning forward, her eyes fixed.
His mouth began to work. He was not rough. He licked her with the devotion of a worshipper, his tongue tracing every fold of her vagina patiently and gently. He heard Mira's sharp, suppressed gasp. The woman's body, which had been stiff as a board, began to show tiny tremors.
"She seems to be enjoying it," Domitia whispered to Lucretia.
Ulysses continued, sucking Mira's clitoris until the woman arched her back, a low, husky moan escaping her constricted throat. He felt the muscles in Mira's thighs clench.
He brought Mira to the brink of her orgasm with only his mouth. The woman's body convulsed violently beneath him, a total contradiction to her face, which still tried desperately to remain stoic. A single tear flowed from the corner of her tightly closed eye.
Ulysses lifted his head. He gave neither Mira nor their audience time to recover. He immediately positioned himself. His hard penis pressed against Mira's soaking wet entrance. He entered with one deep, smooth thrust.
Mira gasped again, this time deeper.
Ulysses began to move at a slow, controlled tempo. He looked at Mira's face, trying to find a crack in her mask. His hand cupped the woman's cheek, his thumb wiping away the earlier tear trace.
"See," Ilithyia's voice sounded again, her tone full of mockery. "This gladiator thinks he is making love."
Cold laughter from the other women followed.
The words seemed to be a trigger. Something within Ulysses shifted. His tenderness vanished, replaced by a faster, more demanding rhythm. His thrusts were now deeper, stronger. He gripped Mira's hips, controlling her completely, each thrust piercing deep.
Mira's moans were now no longer suppressed. "Ah... ngh... yes..."
Ulysses flipped Mira into a doggy style position. He thrust into her from behind with new force. The sound of sweat-slicked skin slapping echoed clearly in the silent room. PLAP. PLAP. PLAP. His hips pounded against Mira's buttocks repeatedly. He could hear Mira's ragged, broken breathing now.
He felt Mira's second orgasm coming, stronger than the first. Her throbbing vagina gripped his manhood tightly. Mira's defenses had completely shattered. Her body had taken over entirely.
Ulysses pulled himself away from Mira, leaving the woman trembling on the rug. He did not allow himself to stop. The Dominas' gazes felt hot on his back. He turned and approached Naevia.
The girl was curled up, her face wet with tears, her body trembling violently. She was like a bird with a broken wing.
Ulysses knelt before her. He did not immediately touch her. "Look at me, Naevia," he whispered, his voice very low, barely audible to the audience. "Only me. Look at me."
Naevia's fear-filled eyes slowly lifted to meet his.
"How sweet," Ilithyia's voice mocked from the sofa. "He's trying to comfort her."
Ulysses ignored her. He reached out, wiping tears from Naevia's cheek with his thumb. "I won't hurt you," he whispered again.
He lowered his head and kissed her. The kiss was as soft as a feather, a silent promise. He could feel Naevia's trembling body slowly begin to subside slightly under his touch. He laid Naevia down very carefully, as if the girl were made of porcelain.
He removed Naevia's remaining clothes. He did everything slowly. Every touch was a question. He gently sucked her small breasts, drawing her nipples until they hardened. Naevia's hands, which had been covering her face, now lowered and gripped Ulysses's arms.
He moved down. His tongue traced Naevia's flat stomach, then lower still. Naevia gasped as she felt the wet, warm touch on her vagina. He began to lick her at a slow, patient tempo, trying to transform the girl's fear into another sensation.
Naevia's sobs slowly turned into suppressed gasps. Her body began to respond against her will.
"See how she writhes," Licinia said with a fascinated voice. "Like a little serpent dancing."
Ulysses brought Naevia to her first orgasm gently. The girl's body tensed, a small shriek escaping her lips, followed by deeper sobs. It was a release of both fear and pleasure.
He then positioned himself above Naevia, supporting his weight with his arms so as not to crush the girl. "It's okay," he whispered again, looking directly into Naevia's eyes.
He entered Naevia very slowly, inch by inch, allowing the girl's body to get used to him. Her vagina felt very tight and hot. He began to move, his thrusts slow, deep, and strangely gentle. He was not just taking, he was trying to give.
He kept his gaze on Naevia's eyes, making their gaze the only anchor in this sea of humiliation. Tears continued to flow down Naevia's cheeks, but now there was something else in her eyes. An understanding. A tragic connection.
She gripped Ulysses's shoulders as his thrusts became slightly faster. Her breath hitched. She couldn't hold it anymore. Her second orgasm came with a heart-wrenching sob, her body convulsing beneath Ulysses. She turned her face away as it happened, as if ashamed of her body's own betrayal.
Ulysses pulled away from Naevia, leaving the girl softly sobbing on the carpet. He was not given time to pause.
"Quite beautiful," Lucretia's voice sounded, cold and commanding. "Now, I wish to see them together. Entertain us, Ulysses."
Ulysses looked at Mira. The woman looked back at him, her eyes resigned yet watchful. He extended his hand. Mira took it. Ulysses pulled Mira closer, then led her towards Naevia, who was still weeping.
He positioned Mira kneeling behind Naevia, then pushed Naevia to lean against Mira's body. He forced Mira's hand to caress Naevia's hair, a false gesture of tenderness amidst this situation.
"Yes... like that," Licinia hissed from the sofa. "The slaves comforting each other."
Ulysses approached from behind Mira. He moistened his re-hardened penis with his saliva, then without warning, he thrust into Mira's vagina.
Mira hissed sharply, her body stiffening, pushing Naevia in front of her. Ulysses began to move, his thrusts strong and deep. He gripped Mira's hips, controlling the rhythm. With his free hand, he reached for Mira's chin, forcing her to lean forward and kiss Naevia's trembling shoulder.
In front of him, Naevia could only submit, feeling the vibrations of Mira's body against her back with each of Ulysses's thrusts. It was a layered spectacle of dominance and surrender.
Ulysses sped up his tempo. Sweat slicked his back. He could hear his own heavy breathing, mingled with Mira's gasps and Naevia's sobs. He glanced towards the Dominas. Ilithyia smiled faintly, her icy blue eyes looking satisfied. Lucretia merely observed, her face unreadable.
He pulled away from Mira. He flipped Mira onto her back, then pulled Naevia to lie beside her. He knelt between the two women. One hand massaged Mira's breast, while the other caressed Naevia's inner thigh.
He kissed Mira deeply, his tongue dancing with hers, while his hand continued to play with Naevia's clitoris. He could feel both women responding, their bodies writhing uncontrollably.
He refocused himself on Mira. He lifted Mira's leg onto his shoulder, positioning himself for the deepest possible penetration. He looked into Mira's eyes as he began to pound in and out. In that gaze, he saw something. No longer just resignation. There was another flicker. An acknowledgment of power. A shared understanding.
He felt his climax approaching. Passion and suppressed rage, guilt over Sura, the humiliation of this night, all merged into one powerful thrust of release. With a low growl escaping his chest, he spilled all his desire deep within Mira's body. His body convulsed for a moment before collapsing between the two women, his breath ragged.
Ulysses pulled himself away, his body feeling heavy and empty. He lay for a moment between the two women, on the carpet now wet with their sweat and bodily fluids. In the room, only the sound of three pairs of lungs working hard to draw breath could be heard.
The silence was broken by the sound of applause.
Not the enthusiastic applause of the arena. This was polite, cold, measured applause. Ulysses lifted his head. He saw the Dominas clapping idly, as if they had just finished a rather entertaining theatrical performance.
"Quite a brutal entertainment," Ilithyia commented, picking up her wine goblet. "Though I would have preferred a little more blood."
"You are indeed hard to please, Ilithyia," Lucretia replied with a faint smile. Her gaze then fell upon the three slaves lying on the floor. Her expression shifted to one of faint disgust, as if seeing dirty plates after a feast.
With a dismissive wave of her hand, she said, "Enough. You may leave."
The command was a cold knife's cut. The show was over. The actors were no longer needed.
Ulysses rose first. His body ached, but not the pain of training. He extended his hand, first to Mira. The woman took it, her eyes avoiding Ulysses's gaze, and stood with movements that still showed remnants of her stoicism.
Then, Ulysses turned to Naevia. The girl was still curled up, her silent sobs shaking her body. Ulysses and Mira together helped her to stand. The three of them, in shattered silence, picked up their torn clothes and put them back on.
They walked out of the room without looking back, leaving behind the laughter of the Dominas who had resumed their conversation as if nothing had happened.
In the dimly lit corridor, they stopped. No one knew where to go or what to do. Three strangers who had just been forced to share the deepest intimacy.
Naevia was still sobbing. Without thinking, Mira reached out and placed a hand on Naevia's shoulder, a surprising gesture of protection. Ulysses simply stood there, watching them. He saw the broken Naevia and Mira trying to stay strong for both of them.
Ulysses's and Mira's eyes met. In that gaze, a new understanding formed. A silent acknowledgment of the suffering they had just endured together. They were victims. They were survivors.
A cold blue panel glowed before Ulysses's eyes, a cruel interruption in that fragile moment.
{Intimate relations complete. Target: Slave (Category 2) x2.} {Life Essence obtained: +20}
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{Name: Ulysses (Thomas Vance)}
{Title: Champion of The Pit}
{Stored Essence: 33}
{Active Legacies: [Talent] Rapid Adaptation, [Knowledge] Basic Psychology (Tier 1)}