Extract -The Gladiatrix

 

"Next time, fucking look what you're doing, you useless turds!" the weasel snapped. Reaching down, he grabbed a hank of Avila's hair, pulling her part way from the ground. "Now, you stupid barbarian cunt, fucking behave yourself otherwise I'll let these two turds break every bone in your body. And, I want you looking your best for tomorrow otherwise I'm going to lose money." Turning back to his men, he snapped, "If you can't control this German whore, put her in a cage."

"Yes, boss," the intact one uttered.

The chain attaching her neck collar to the coffle chain was struck free. Bundled over to a line of metal cages, each about a three-foot cube, she was forced to squat in one. The door was closed and locked. It was so cramped she could hardly move, could not sit down with her legs out, nor stretch.

When it came time for her to be fed, the guard took a chunk of bread from out of a basket, proceeding to urinating over it, soaking it. As for the cupful of water, she was given, he peed into that too. She was so hungry and thirsty that she fought back her repulsion, as she ate and drank.

It was near impossible for her to sleep during the night, her legs in agony, her spine curved. Next morning, she was fed and watered as before, her repast making her heave but she did not regurgitate.

Dragged from the cage by two different guards, they held her upright, as her legs got use to being unbent. A slave arrived with a large pot, he using a sponge to smear her body with a thin coating of olive oil mixed with water. Believing she had an opportunity to escape, if she was quick, she lashed out with her cuffed fists.

"Get that fucking cunt under control!" the weasel screamed, he standing in the middle of his yard. "Move! Get them to the market!"

Two guards still holding her, she and the other captives were marched a few hundred yards to another stockade. The rest of the females were detached from their respective coffle chains, and small groups put into separate pens. Avila alone was shoved into a cage - it thankfully big enough for her to stand upright and prowl around like a captured animal, a guard standing a few feet from the door.

People started to arrive, some in fine garments, others not so well dressed. Clearly, many were timewasters merely satisfying their curiosity to look at captives whilst others were potential buyers, examining the merchandise that was to be auctioned. Most stopped at her cage, calling out to Avila to turn around, bend over or lewdly display herself. Ignoring every instruction and request, she simply snarled at them, spitting, or trying to rip the cage apart so as to get at them and kill one or two. The guard warned many gawkers not to get too close, that the inmate was dangerous.

"Why is this one in a cage? Where is she from?" a man said, he accompanied by the weasel and Sergeant Nobo.

"Dominus, she is a German she-cat. She's quite uncontrollable and has already tried to kill one of my guards and a slave. Evidently, she was an extreme handful upon the ship that brought her to Neapolis too. She is really only fit to be ripped apart by wild bulls in the arena for the crowds amusement," the weasel advised.