<div style="text-align: right;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;">IC (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=153646.0)</span></div><br/><div align="center">(http://i674.photobucket.com/albums/vv103/Blonde_moment/Ludus1.jpg)</div><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><br/>The heat scorched, the suns persistent stretch causing the depths of the body to lag and complain. There seemed no air, no breeze to cool the occupants of the manor that over looked the deep gorge below. The rains had left, not gracing the city of Janiculum. The hills were parched, the earth brown and sparse. Set on the boundaries of Rome, yet still governed by so, it was a beautiful spot of nature. But for Geila, no such joy was found in her surroundings. In fact, she held sheer discontent for the place and for the nation that was Rome. She hated it, and no amount of luscious scenery would compensate for that. Geila did not see much of it though, only in rare moments outside or on route to markets did she see anything other than the place that owned her, other than the cliff side manor that belonged to her master and owner, the house of Augustus Magnus. Nothing would ever changer her feelings, Rome had ruined and altered her life forever.<br/><br/>She had not slept, the stifling heat causing her discomfort and to find little rest. But the day of a slave often started early, rising to tend to the needs of the Dominus and the house. The slaves quarters were in the bowels of the house, separated from the Gladiator's cages by a simple corridor. All those that served and were owned by Magnus slept beneath the house, the ones who really suffered from the deep heat of summer were now moving to serve the Dominus. The Gladiators trained on the sandy yard, sparring as ordered by the whip carrying Doctore. The majority of slaves cleaned inside, whilst Geila stood behind the Dominus, holding the jug of cool wine and watching over the balcony to the men below.<br/><br/>The Gladiators enthralled her. Men, put into competition to fight to the death. Their torture entertained the public crowds, they vied for blood and a gruesome death. Geila could never understand the brutality of it, how anyone could find it entertainment was beyond her. But Rome was not known for its manners, not at least back in her homelands. Conquered by the ever stretching grasp of Rome, it was all a distant memory to Geila that she locked away. Never speaking about it, never reminiscing, trying to block it out. She would never see it again, so why long for it? Her family were dead, everyone she knew sold on or slaughtered, so there really was no want to return. Instead now it was a life that belonged to the man before her. A life of sex, servitude and slavery.<br/><br/>Geila sighed and closed her eyes, rolling her head up towards the sky. Would they ever be blessed with rain? She was dressed in the very small attire gifted upon her. A red-brown in colour, it offered a large view of her body. Tied about her neck, two stretches of material covered her breasts, minimally, and plunged down to her hips. Her back and sides were bare completely, the sparseness of her attire pleased the men who visited the house. The small skirt of the dress had two big slits in the material, either side of her hips and were held together by knotted thin rope. It stopped shortly beneath her rear, her legs elongated by the shortness of it. About her feet were scratched, tatty and well worn sandals, so thin that often her feet ached and burned. Her blonde hair was piled atop her head and held in place by a strip of material, offering a clear view of her neck and shoulders, and the brand on her shoulder.<br/><br/>Opening her eyes she sighed and saw the empty cup, and Geila walked forwards and filled it, and as she did her eyes drifted down to the yard. There was something about them that excited her. At a previous party held by Magnus, Geila had been made to have sex with one for the entertainment of the men and women. The Gladiator had fucked her, pounded his cock into her and caused her to scream out in sheer pleasure. The next day she had been witness to his brutal death in the arena. But the power and strength of the Gladiators, their instinctive feral nature caused her body to thrill with excitement. Though she held no affection for the Games, for the competitors themselves, Geila held them in regard. Many times she had tended to their wounds and injuries, and had even been with some when they died. <br/><br/>The order for the end of training was given, and Geila stepped away from her thoughts and to the Dominus. She heard tale of another of his gatherings were to happen, which would no doubt mean more sexual performances. There were a few favourites that were often requested, and there was the Legatus, Sergius Gavius, who had a particular fondness for Geila. He liked to watch the other female slaves perform acts on her, see their tongues touch and tease. Like to have her on her knees taking him in her mouth. The General was not a pleasant man. He was not ugly, but he was brutal and powerful, and his hands were rough and strong. He had left bruises on her before from his rough ways. Tall, muscular, and with an army at his command, he was a man to be feared and obeyed. <br/><br/>But for now, Geila waited for her orders. There were none who needed tending, no one to keep an eye on and nurse. Her gaze flicked back over the Gladiators as they assembled and were to be taken back to their cages. Their skin soaked in sweat, the sun browning their ever sunkissed skin. She locked her jaw and kept her face still and impartial, void to the thoughts she had. Her arms were aching from holding the jug for so long, and she longed to stretch the muscles loose. She longed to expel the clothing from her body and allow it to breath, to feel water on her, to feel the cool shade of the manor. But for now she waited for Augustus Magnus to dismiss her or to do something, her eyes kept well below his shoulders as respect ordered so.<br/></span>