The first time

by Phillip Marlowe

Marteus, the Praetor of Rome, looked at the young woman in front of him. "Such a petite girl," he thought, "quite lovely." Her hair was a light blond that fell in ringlets to her waist. Pale blue eyes looked out of childlike features. It was hard to see her body. She was wearing a prison toga and chains. He thought them excessive, but she was, after all, a murderer. The evidence was clear.

"Adriel of Mediolanum, your claims of rape are not credible, in that by your own admission you are a
prostitute. You are guilty of murdering Arkevius of Rome during a robbery. You are sentenced to death. Take the prisoner away."

Adriel knew that she had been raped, if the praetor had only seen her face the night she was bought in. She was glad she had killed the pig, but she knew the death sentence meant she would be crucified. Her stomach sickened at the thought of hanging on a cross for days until her lungs ruptured.

"Praetor!" she shouted, "I am a citizen, and I wish to appeal my death sentence."

"I'm afraid there is no appeal."

"I can volunteer for the Games." Adriel replied.

Marteus looked at her incredulously. So small, she wouldn't last long in the arena. He knew that from
personal experience. But she was correct on the law; she had the right. He shrugged. "One death is as good as the other I suppose," he responded. "Take her to the Romanium Ludi on the outskirts of the city." He signed some papers and gave them to the guards who took her away.

"This works out perfectly, " he thought to himself.

Adriel was relieved. She had killed men and women before, more than once, it was easy. Now if she could do it 10 times, she would get her freedom.

She was bought to the ludi, for what little training she would receive. She spent a day learning some basic moves with a gladius from a man who hit her with a strap every time she displeased him. As she came out for her second day, the master called her to him.

"Adriel, over here."

She walked to him quickly. She didn't want to feel the strap again.

"Your fighting at the Coliseum tomorrow," he told her.

"I just got here! I hardly know how to hold the sword!" she protested.

The master cut her off. "You know enough to give a good show before you're killed." He turned and went looking for the rest of tomorrow's combatants.

The words rang in her ears. The reality of her choice became apparent to her. Killing a man from behind or knifing a slut in a bar fight was different than fighting a trained gladiator in the arena. At least a death in the arena would be less agonizing than hanging on the cross. She watched the master as he went to other men and women. Some of them had arrived only today. Others were seasoned warriors. She hoped she would get paired against one of the recent arrivals; that would give her a better chance.

She couldn't sleep that night. Visions of her death in the arena kept her awake. She tried to remember who the master had selected, how long they had been here, how they handled the sword. Every time she tried to envision killing one of them, her visions changed, and she would visualize them killing her. She could hear moaning and crying in the other cells. Some with fear, some with pleasure. She had seen several people pair off after the evening meal. She had thought about seducing a young man she had seen. He was very young, but she thought him very beautiful. He had blonde hair that fell to his shoulders outlining a boys face. He was bone thin, and she couldn't really tell what his body looked
like through his toga. But her anxiety got the best of her, and she retired alone. Now she wished that the young man was here. She fantasized that he was a virgin, and she was to be his first fuck. She
imagined him making love to her as her hand went to her sex. It took a while, but she finally came, moaning loudly as the pleasure washed over her body. She caressed herself, running her hands up and down her torso, gently pinching her nipples before returning her attention to her sex. The bliss helped her relax enough to get to sleep, even though she thought that it might have been her last orgasm.

The day's contestants were awakened early, fed the usual mush, and taken to the baths to clean off months of grime from jail cells and the school. They were given their attire for the arena. Everything seemed so large on Adriel's small frame. She put on a loincloth, a wide leather belt, and leather covering for her sword arm that tied tightly across her chest, pressing into her breasts. They gave her her tunic back, but that would come off before she would get into the arena. She was loaded
into a cart with the rest of the days contestants for the journey to the coliseum. Adriel looked over the
others, many of them new, just like her. They all feared that this would be their last day on earth, even the seasoned warriors. Adriel felt the fear in her belly, and she could see it on most of the faces in the cart. They all knew that most of them
would die today.

The gladiators were marched into the bowels of the coliseum, to an anteroom just off of the entrance to the arena. The arena master directed them to sit on a rough wooden bench. He called out two names, and two men rose. They removed their tunics and were given swords and bucklers. Adriel watched the men as they walked to the passageway. One was an older, dark man who had the look of a seasoned fighter, and the scars to prove it. The other was the boy she had thought about the night
before, blonde hair pulled into aponytail. She had been right; he was so thin you could see his ribs across his hairless chest. She wished she had seduced him when she had the chance. They could have shared their final fuck, maybe even his first. The crowd roared as they walked into the arena. There was an opening in the anteroom where the waiting gladiators could watch the competitions. In the distance, Adriel she could see the two men as they circled each other, looking for an opening.

"I'll bet on the dark one."

Adriel looked at the woman at her side. It was unusual for another gladiator to offer friendship to another; after all, you may have to kill that person. She looked back at the two men
in the arena. The girl was right. The dark one was getting the upper hand.

"Your right."

"I've seen him before. He'll make short work of this boy."

"You seem calm," Adriel asked, "How do you stay so calm."

"You new?"

"Yes."

"Just accept the fact that this is where you're eventually going to die and how you'll be killed, and
concentrate on killing your opponent. Don't think about dying. Everyone who I met who was worried about dying was killed their first time."

That was cold comfort to Adriel. All she thought about was dying. She was surprised that the girl told her so sardonically. She stared blankly at her.

"Don't look so surprised. I've killed plenty of people in the arena, and almost been killed myself. It
becomes easy to face death when you don't worry about it. Besides," she smiled broadly, "you'll be
surprised how much you'll be aroused when you kill your opponent. In fact, I could swear that I've seen my victims come as I've killed them. Can't be sure until I get killed though." She giggled as she turned her attention back to the fight in the arena.

Suddenly the crowd roared. Adriel turned back just in time to see the dark man pull his blade from the body of the young man. He screamed and dropped his sword and buckler, blood spewing from his gut as he fell back, hands to his wound. He rolled about in the sand, fighting against the pain. The crowd screamed forthe dark haired man to finish him. The consul gave the signal, and his death was assured. The dark man went to him and put his foot on his chest. The boy grabbed the gladiator's  leg. The dark man pressed his sword against the boy's throat. A quick shove and it was over. Blood splattered as the sword sliced his throat open; his body quickly went limp.

"You see," the girl said, "he didn't suffer much. It's best that you don't make your victims suffer. It angers the others and makes them forget their fear."

Adriel envisioned herself being killed, just like that man. The victor marched down the passageway,
drenched with sweat and splattered with his opponent's blood. Attendants went to the arena and took the bloody corpse by the feet, dragging it by the opening for all to see. Adriel watched with great anxiety, knowing that the next loser might be her.

The girl went on. "He didn't die well though. Those who don't die well are stabbed in the throat; like
killing a goat. Warriors are finished with a sword through the heart. That's how I want to die."

The girl ignored the body being dragged by the opening. She nudged Adriel. "I hope you don't have to
fight that one." She nodded toward a woman at the front of the room speaking with the arena master. Adriel had noticed her at the school. She seemed to have special privileges. She
had private quarters, and ate the food that the trainers ate. She hadn't been on the cart with the rest of
them that morning. "Her name is Elora, and she's Praetor Marteus's mistress," she whispered, "They give her matches against the new gladiators. Don't get me wrong; she's good. She killed a lot of men and women to get to where she is today. She fucks him the night before a match and the night after. The tale is that she gets so turned on by killing; she almost fucks the praetor to death after she kills someone. He arranges her matches so that she gets easy kills and doesn't take too many risks." That explained to Adriel why she hadn't seen her on the cart. "She even gets a private waiting room down here. Wouldn't want to have to mix with the rabble."

"Jira!" the arena master shouted. The girl got up and turned to Adriel.

"My turn now."

"Good luck," spoke Adriel, unsure of what to say to someone who might be killed shortly.

"Shai!" the master shouted another name.

She looked at Adriel and smiled, almost affectionately.

"I like you."

Adriel smiled back, appreciative of the friendly gesture.

"If we meet," she giggled, "I'll kill you quick." She pulled her tunic over her head. She was a little plump, surprising for a gladiator, Adriel thought. She had on the same attire as Adriel. Her breasts were more fullthough, and the strap pressed deeply into them. She wore nipple rings, and an unintelligible tattoo on one breast. She had long brown hair that she wore to her shoulders, with bangs
that almost covered her eyes. She shook her head to get the hair out of her eyes and adjusted her chest
strap. "It keeps my tits from bouncing too much," she explained, looking back at Adriel, still smiling.
Adriel eyes drifted to the girl's belly. A deep scar ran a crooked course from her navel toward her ribs.
Adriel was surprised that someone could survive such a wound.

"Like it?" the girl almost laughed. "That's what happens when you don't concentrate on killing. I gutted the woman who did this to me. I almost died myself."

"Jira and Shai … hurry up!" the arena master shouted.

"Hang on to this for me," Jira asked as she threw the tunic to Adriel. "I'll be back for it before long." Shewinked as she turned away.

Jira hurried to the doorway. The other girl was there, a barbarian woman. Adriel thought she was new too, but couldn't be sure. Many of the barbarians were prisoners of war who knew
how to fight. Coal black hair and eyes, very thin. She wore a different sleeve. Hers had a metal plate at
the shoulder. She had straps over her shoulders and around her chest that were connected to a ring between her breasts, with another strap to her belt. The chest strap pushed her breasts up, so that they stood proudly from her chest. The master gave Jira a buckler and a sword. Shai was given a fishnet and a trident. The girls marched into the arena knowing one of them would be dead in a few minutes.

Adriel moved to the opening to watch the contest. Both girls saluted the emperor and turned to face each other.

Jira sized up her opponent. The barbarians were tough, devious fighters, not above stabbing their opponents in the back. They were generally given tridents and nets because the masters
wanted them dead quickly, and the lack of armor and shield made them good candidates for a short life in the arena. Jira felt lucky to meet this woman. Not only didn't she have a shield, but she was new to the arena. Jira felt her chances to be good.

The trumpets sounded and the girls went into their battle stance. Shai held the head of her weapon far in front of her, keeping Jira at bay. Every time Jira tried to move in, the barbarian would shove the tines of the trident into her face. Jira quickly moved away from her adversary's weapon, using her buckler to block herblows. Shai moved forward and thrust hard into Jira's shield, pushing her back.

Jira felt the sand squish under her feet as she stepped into the blood slick left by the first pair. Her feet slid as she fell backwards. She quickly rolled out of the way as Shai thrust the trident into the soil where Jira had just been. Jira backed off. "I just got lucky," she thought. The crowd roared as she fell, and quieted just as quickly as she recovered. Shai cursed under her breath. She had almost had this Roman bitch. She thrust again with the trident toward the sword. Jira parried the thrust as Shai threw her net toward the buckler.

Jira saw the net drape across her shield arm, entangling her buckler. She slashed at it with her sword but it was too late. Shai pulled hard on the net and jerked the buckler from Jira's hand, thrusting with the trident.Jira scrambled back and watched helplessly as her buckler flew to the ground.

Jira got into position quickly. Shai had put herself between her and the buckler. She would have to use her sword to parry the Trident, a risky proposition. Jira decided to be the aggressor, and moved toward her opponent. Shai threw the net again. Jira stepped back until it hit the ground before her and charged quickly forward, sword at the ready. She got inside the head of the trident and thrust toward Shai's chest. Shai swung her weapon as she dove away from the sword. The shaft of the trident caught Jira behind the ear. She saw a bright flash as she sprawled forward, stunned from the blow.

Jira found herself face down, her sword no longer in her hand. It took her a second to realize where she was. She began to panic. "Where's my sword?" she thought through the haze, "where's the barbarian?" She saw the sword just in front of her. She got to her knees and reached for it
when she felt the sharp tines of the trident penetrate the small of her back. The first agony shot through her like fire. Jira shouted as she tried to pull away from the pain in her back, her face contorted in anguish. Her efforts were in vain as Shai forced the barbed points in.

Shai pressed the trident in her victim, holding her in place as Jira tried  to free herself. Shai hated the Romans. Agonizing this woman, even if she was a slave such as she was a pleasure. She jerked the weapon from Jira's body. Jira fell forward, crying out again as the barbed tines tore through her back. She desperately tried to crawl to her sword as Shai moved in for the kill.

Shai quickly moved around her and kicked the sword away. "I'm dead," Jira thought. She looked up at
Shai, standing over her with the trident. She could see the tines covered with her blood. Shai stepped
around her; Jira watched, wondering where the next stab wound would be. Shai kicked her in the ribs, and she flipped on her back. Her breasts heaved as she struggled to breathe, fighting through the pain to taste air for the last time. She looked up for a final glimpse of the sun, the clouds, and the blue of the sky. She didn't watch as Shai moved over her. It didn't matter. She was going to be killed.

Shai thrust the trident into her belly, the middle time just above her navel. Jira doubled up around the
trident as a new sensation of pain overwhelmed her as the tines ripped into her. She grabbed the shaft of the weapon as Shai pushed it in farther. Jira groaned again, as the taste of
blood from her belly now filled her mouth.

Jira released the weapon and laid back, her strength gone, awaiting her death. Shai looked her in the eyes; she enjoyed the agony that she was putting this woman through. She leaned on  the trident, watching Jira grimace as blood flowed from her mouth, mixing with her tears and staining the sand beneath her. Shai jerked the trident free. It was time to kill this Roman whore.

The barbs tore out of Jira's belly, lifting her from the sand. She began to writhe in her final agony, and in her final pleasure as her clitoris began to throb. She smiled slightly; what she had thought was true. She moaned as the orgasm began to build, enjoying her last earthly pleasure. Her nipples, already stiff from the excitement of combat, thickened around her nipple rings. Sweat poured from her skin, mixing with the bloody mess that her belly had become.

Shai looked to the counsol, holding her bloody trident over her head. The crowd called for death, and the consul agreed. Shai looked into Jira's eyes again as she placed the tines of the trident against her chest, pricking her skin; giving her a moment to think about what was coming.

"I'll see you in hell," mouthed Jira, still smiling and spitting blood as she cursed her killer.

Shai returned the smile and leaned on the trident. Shai could hear Jira's breastbone splitting as the center tine of the trident went inside her, the others piercing her breasts before breaking through her ribs. Shai leaned on her weapon, penetrating deep inside her. Jira threw her head back and arche into the spikes as they shattered her ribs and sliced her lungs. She opened her mouth wide, vainly fighting to get another taste of the sweet air into her before she died. The peak of the orgasm that hit her as the trident did its lethal work tempered the agony of her death. Shai put her foot on Jira's rib cage, and jerked the weapon from her chest, sending a final shock of pain through her. Jira heaved a loud sigh and went limp, her last breath a gurgle through the blood that filled her chest. Shai raised her bloody trident over her head in victory as the attendants grabbed Jira by her arms, and dragged her to be stripped of her outfit, and thrown naked into a mass grave.

Adriel watched intently as this woman she barely knew died in agony before her eyes. Jira's head rolled toward her as she was drug from the arena. She could see her dead eyes staring at her. She looked back at Shai, celebrating her victory, waving the bloody trident over her head. She got up and angrily pulled her tunic over her head as she walked toward the arena master.

"Where do you think your going?" he asked.

"I'm going to kill that bitch!"

"I've got other plans for you. Go sit down!" he shouted.

Adriel grabbed a sword from the table and put it to his throat. The guards moved to grab her.

"Touch me and I'll take his head right here!"

The guards pulled back. They knew that killing a gladiator would only spoil the show, and besides, the
arena master wasn't worth risking death. Adriel poked him with the sword. "I want the barbarian woman."

"All right," he stuttered, "but you'll have to fight twice today."

"Good!" She pulled the sword back from the man's throat. Grabbing a buckler, she stepped into the hot sun. It felt good on her bare skin, and the air was fresh and pure, unlike the stale air of the antechamber.

Shai looked at her with derision. "This little whore thinks she can best me," she thought. Her childlike
features, her small breasts made Shai think that the Romans had sent a child to kill her. She went over and picked up her net.

Adriel examined her as she moved toward her. Her fear now replaced by rage. Now she would concentrate on killing this barbarian, and not her own death. They were both covered with sweat as they approached the center of the arena: Shai from the exertion of combat, and Adriel from the stifling heat of the anteroom and the anticipation of the clash. Adriel had noticed the erect nipples of the gladiatrixes during their match. She wasn't surprised to find her own nipples stiff. She could also feel her sex moisten and throb gently. She admitted to herself that without fear, the thought of killing this woman was a very exciting. Shai's body glistened in the sun. "She's very beautiful," she thought. She imagined killing her with the same excitement that she felt when she seduced a new lover. Shai's black hair was drenched in sweat; she shoved it back from her face. Her almond shaped eyes were wide with anticipation of the fight to come.

Adriel pushed her blond ringlets from her face and went into her combat stance. Shai did the same, again keeping Adriel at bay  with the trident. Adriel could see the points coated in Jira's blood. Adriel circled away as Shai threw the net toward her. It fell harmlessly to the ground as Shai thrust toward her. Adriel blocked the blow with her buckler and slashed toward her opponents weapon arm. The sword split the leather cover and drew blood. Shai jerked back and reset herself. The leather had done its job. The wound was painful, but minor. She threw the net again, this time low. It caught Adriel on her ankle, and Shai wasted no time in jerking her off of her feet as she again moved in for the kill.

Adriel scrambled up, using her buckler to block the trident. Shai pulled back as Adriel thrust at the
barbarian's belly. She barely missed, cursing as she scrambled to her feet. Shai charged again, and Adriel again blocked the head of her weapon; as she did Shai tossed the net over her sword arm and jerked it pulling the sword from Adriel's hand.

Adriel backed off, weaponless. She tried to move toward the sword, but Shai blocked her path. She kept the buckler in front of her and kept moving, looking for an opening to get to the sword. Shai was sure that she would get her second kill today. Soon her weapon would be in this woman's chest, the sooner the better, as she was starting to tire. She was thirsty from the hot sun and the trident seemed to weigh a ton. It became harder to keep it in position and keep up with the girl.

Adriel kept moving. She could tell that the trident blows were becoming weaker as the fight drug on. The crowd jeered. Adriel didn't care. She was just trying to survive. Shai was becoming frustrated. She threw her net aside, and lifted the trident over her head as though she were going to throw it. She charged Adriel, screaming at the top of her lungs. She thrust down at Adriel, who ducked and caught the shaft of the trident, pulling the barbarian past her. Shai and the trident went flying. She slammed to the arena floor, briefly stunned, she turned back to see Adriel picking up her sword. She grabbed her trident and prepared to fight again. Adriel charged and ducked a clumsy thrust from the barbarian. Shai had pulled herself off balance and she continued forward after her thrust, impaling herself as Adriel's sword entered her abdomen.

The trident dropped as Shai grabbed Adriel's arm as it held the sword that was in her belly. The crowd was delighted to see bloody steel sticking from the barbarian's back. Shai's face was distorted in agony as she threw her head back and tried to pull back and pull the sword from her belly. Adriel grabbed the leather straps that crisscrossed her chest and held her as she twisted the sword, opening the wound. Blood poured from Shai's wound as Adriel finally pulled the weapon from her. The sword was covered with blood, as was her hand. Shai dropped to the ground, curled up in a fetal position, both hands grasping her wound. A bloody puddle was forming in the sand in front of her.

Adriel didn't wait for the signal from the crowd. She walked to the wounded woman and pushed her on her back with her foot. Shai grunted loudly, squinting her eyes shut, hoping that the agony would end soon. Adriel placed the point of the sword against the barbarian's left breast, just inside the chest strap, the blade turned sideways to get between the ribs, and thrust. The sword cut easily through the breast and nicked a rib as it went through a gap between them, and into her heart. Shai grunted as the blade split her breast. She tried to scream as the sword went deeper, and split her heart in half. Her scream was silent though; her agony was too great. She shuddered a few times, and then died quickly. Her
hands fell limply as Adriel pulled her sword free. Adriel gazed at her dead adversary as waves of pleasure flowed through her body. Jira had been right. It was very exciting to kill another woman. The
attendants came and removed the barbarian from the arena. She would lie naked with Jira for eternity.

The crowd cheered Adriel's victory. She turned to leave the arena. The master stopped her at the gate.

"You fight again."

She remembered, and went back to the middle. From the opening came Elora. So this was the special plan the arena master had for her. Adriel remembered that new girls were set up for easy kills for Elora, her reward for being the praetor's lover.

She could see her naked body now. She was a big woman, very muscular. Round shoulders leading to a muscular chest, topped with two firm breasts. Her stomach looked like a washboard. Her whole body seemed to ripple as she walked. She had a strong, almost masculine face. Her skin was deeply tanned from daily practice in the sun. Her biceps swelled as she swung her sword.

This time they both saluted the consul, the praetor sitting next to him, smiling at his lover. He had promised Adriel to her last night. "She'll be an easy kill," he had told her. Elora returned his smile, the memory of last night fresh in her mind. He was a wonderful lover, and his help had kept her alive for a long time. She loved the arena. Killing was the greatest excitement she had ever known. She almost felt sorry for Adriel. In a few minutes she would be dead, and as her body rotted in the mass grave, she would be enjoying a night of passion.

The trumpets blared again. Adriel got into her fighting stance. Elora struck at her quickly, with ferocity. Adriel could barely block her blows with her buckler. Every time she raised her sword to parry, Elora shoved her buckler back her face. Adriel retreated and moved away from her sword arm. The woman moved to her again.

"I can kill you quick; one stroke and it will be over," Elora spoke to Adriel.

"You're the second one to make me that offer today," Adriel replied defiantly. "The first is dead."

'It's your choice."

"That really scared her, " Adriel thought to herself.

Elora struck again, again driving Adriel's buckler back into her, keeping her off balance. Adriel slashed
back with little effect. She backed off as quickly as she could. Elora kept up with her though. Adriel was tiring. Sweat soaked hair fell into her eyes as she struggled to keep the sword at bay. Elora slashed down hard on the top of Adriel's buckler and knocked it down, exposing Adriel.

Elora quickly thrust toward Adriel's chest. Adriel pulled the buckler back up as quickly as she could, but she couldn't get out of the way. Burning pain instantly swept through her as the blade went into her just under her collarbone. She retreated frantically. The sword ripped her as she fell back and the blade tore from her.

Elora thought about moving in and killing her right then, but she let her go. She had watched people die from lesser wounds than that. There would be time. Besides, this one didn't want a quick death.

Adriel backed away, surprised that she was still alive. Blood streamed down her chest. She had never been stabbed before. She wasn't sure what all the sensations were, but she understood pain. She tried to raise the buckler, but it felt like it weighed a ton. Every time she tried, a jolt of pain went through her again. The wound began to throb. Each throb felt like she was being stabbed again. She kept away from Elora. She fought to stay conscious. She dropped the buckler; it was of no use now.

Elora moved to her again. Adriel swung her sword with what strength she had left and parried Elora's
attack, turning away from her. Elora hit her with the buckler as she turned. Her head was spinning as she almost fainted again. She ran clear of the galdiatrix, holding her arm hanging limply at her side.

"I offered you a quick death," Elora reminded her as she moved slowly toward her wounded opponent.

"I'm not dead yet."

Elora admired her. Most of the new girls were slaves who could not comprehend the meaning of the arena. They were easy. Many of them just stood there as she had stabbed them to
death. This one was tough. "You'll die a warriors death," she told Adriel.

Adriel knew what that meant, a blade in the heart rather than the throat. She held her arm tightly against her side. Rivers of blood flowed down her chest and over her breast. She thought to herself, "I'll probably bleed to death first."

Elora moved in. She charged quickly, sword extended, looking to knock Adriel to the ground, and finish her there. Adriel backed away, this time away from the buckler. Elora's thrust went by her and she quickly slashed backhanded. The tip of the sword caught Adriel on her shoulder blade.

The chest wound hurt so much that she didn't even notice the scratch on her back. Adriel wondered if she shouldn't just give up. She knew she was going to die. Why not end it.

Elora moved in again. Adriel moved out of instinct. She ducked away from the sword again. Elora was
waiting with the buckler and hit her again. Adriel got her sword in between her chest and the buckler. It provided some cushion. Elora kept coming, slashing across her body. Adriel was tiring; she could barely keep her sword up.

"Time to end it," Elora thought. She pulled the buckler in front of her and ran hard toward Adriel. Adriel couldn't get away fast enough, and she found herself face to face with Elora, sword arm pinned to her chest by the woman's buckler. She tripped on her own feet and slipped. Her sword was free, but all she could see was the buckler coming toward her.

"One last chance," Adriel thought. She rolled into Elora as she charged. The two women fell together on the sand. Adriel remembered seeing a blade pass by her head and stick in the sand just before she passed out.

Adriel felt a buzz in her head. She opened her eyes. She could see the sky above her. "I must be dead," she thought. The cheering of the crowd and the resurgence of pain in her chest told her that wasn't true. She had no sword. She rolled to her side, and used he good arm to push herself up. There was Elora, on the sand behind her, curled up with her back to Adriel.

Adriel crawled to her. She grabbed her arm and pulled her over. Elora moaned as Adriel pulled her on her back. Adriel had found her sword; sticking out of her abdomen, just beneath her rib cage.

She had won. Adriel got to her feet and looked down on the defeated woman. Elora looked up at Adriel in amazement.

"This little slave waif has killed me," she thought. Elora could feel her death orgasm building inside of her. She had seen it in the eyes of others before. She knew that someday, she would feel it. She moaned as the pleasure intensified.

Adriel reached down and pulled the sword from Elora muscular belly. Elora cried out as the blade was
pulled from her. What had been a trickle of blood was now a stream as the sword was removed. Elora put her hand over the gash to stop the bleeding. She didn't want this wound to kill her.

Elora could taste blood in her mouth. She was bleeding inside. She wouldn't last much longer. She looked up at Adriel. "Give me a warriors death," she asked.

Adriel looked to the consol. She could see a look of horror on the face of the praetor as the consol gave the signal.

"Now Marteus," she thought, "your lover dies."

Adriel turned to her. She put the point of the sword against her chest, between her breasts, just up against the left one. "A quick death for you," she told Elora, "the death of a warrior," then she thrust with what little strength she had left. The blade stopped for a moment on the woman's ribs; Adriel could hear them crack before the blade began to slide easily, deep inside her chest. Elora lifted her head to look at the blade that was killing her. Her head dropped back to the sand as Adriel pushed the
sword until she felt the blade hit bone in the back. Elora felt her orgasm peak as the blade sliced her
heart in two. She moaned loudly and arched back as Adriel pulled the sword out. Blood spurted from the wound and covered her breasts. She shuddered for a few moments, and then she was dead. Her head rolled to the side, eyes wide open, blood dripping from her mouth.

Adriel waved the sword over her head, drinking in the adulation of the crowd. She was so cold. She looked up at the sun, bright and hot, and wondered why. She grimaced as pain shot through her again. She dropped the sword and put her hand to her wound; her world began to spin, and she  collapsed to the sand. She rolled on her back. She had never seen the sky so clear, so inviting. "Yes," she  thought, "this is better that being crucified."