Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing in regards to Harry Potter or the Spartacus TV series. All properties therein are those of their creators. I am only a writer working on my skills with worlds and characters that I love.
Chapter Two - "What is beneath your feet?" "Sacred ground."
It was night by the time Harry and Gannicus found themselves dumped in the cell beneath the Battiatus Ludus. It was held beneath a large villa on the edge of Capua. To their surprise, three Syrians were also present, seated against the other wall. "Well, new members." The shortest of the three noted, staring at the dirt and stone dust covered duo. "Welcome to the Ludus."
"Ludus?" The thinner man questioned.
"A training ground for gladiators." The Syrian answered simply. "Here we are forged into gods to please the crowd. It is harrowing though." He gestured to his fellows, "We started with eight. Now we are but three."
"Huff." Crixus barked, "Now we are five. My brother and I will be gladiators in truth. I am called Crixus. He is Harry."
"I am Asher. Your… brother? He does not speak for himself?"
"I do." Harry answered. "I just didn't feel like it yet. Gladiator's eh?"
With a smile, the wizard turned his head to look at his friend and brother of four years in hell, and with a force of conscious effort willed his words into the Gaulic language. "History speaks well of gladiators Crixus. They are supplied with wine, women, acclaim, and many even gain wealth or freedom. This could be our path to breaking our chains after all this time."
Answering in kind, Crixus added, "I too have heard these things. Hence my excitement. Fate finally shines on us, Harry."
Watching the interplay, Asher couldn't help noting it was a lot less amusing when others spoke in words he could not understand for once. "I recommend sleep. Training starts at dawn and you will want your rest."
The Syrian's words proved prophetic as the next day all of them were roused from their cell and bustled out to the sand of the training yard. They were made to line up for inspection at positions of attention. Each was naked save for the bare necessities of decency. The three Syrians all wore the common groin wraps of the men Harry had seen in the other cells next to his own, as did Crixus. Harry himself had elected to maintain his cloth waist skirt over his own wrap. Call him old fashioned but he didn't want to show his ass off to every man present. It was a simple thing of red wool, but it extended to his knees and offered some level of protection and covered his bits at the same time.
A whip cracked in the air and the opposite sides of the sands filled with big, burly, men of mean temperament and deadly purpose, and at their head was a weathered bald man with a deep-set scar on his face.
"All right then." He intoned into the still air, wrapping his whip back around his hand. "I see two new faces, so it is time to give voice to tradition and intent for all. Gladiators! What is beneath your feet?!"
"Sacred Ground, Doctore!" The crowd cheered back at him.
"Oenomaus, speak clear thought to these mongrels." The whip pointed to a certain black man standing head and shoulders above the others with an absolutely massive scar upon his chest.
He stepped forward and spoke in the deepest baritone Harry had ever heard. "This ground is watered with tears of blood. Your tears, your blood, your pathetic lives forged into something of worth. Listen! Learn! And perhaps you will live - as Gladiators!" The crowd cheered once more, putting a wide smile on the doctore's face.
"Honorable experience spoken well, my pupil." Another whip crack, this time against a board embedded in the ground, producing an accompanying thud for effect. "Now begin physical exercise. At noon we will have sparring!"
The event apparently finished, the gladiators moved off to do who knew what, and the newest slaves began their first hesitant steps into gladiatorial training. They jogged around the sandy ground for hours on end, lifted heavy beams and performed squats with them, or went on extended farmers walks. Endless pushups, countless crunches, lunges for days. It seemed gladiator's never skipped leg day. The sparring that followed was enough to crush any regular man into the dirt, so it was lucky they were not regular men.
For two months this continued, and by the end, Harry and Crixus, who had already been strong from their time as stone carters, had become chiseled and hardened. The former was lean, powerful, and quicker than ever. The latter, well, he was massive. This training had offered him the perfect chance to put his vast strength to the test and he'd reaped the results.
The sparring had also proven quite beneficial. Each man had tried out with various weapons and styles and had met with differing results. Crixus was naturally skilled with none, but by sheer force of stubborn will he'd made himself learn the sword and shield with enough ability to even impress the great (chronically drunk) Gannicus enough for a couple of tips.
Harry, meanwhile….
** Flashback**
Dagan and Harry were circling each other in the center of the training sands with a crowd of Brothers of the order of gladiators cheering them on from the sidelines. With a wooden sword held low and shield locked ahead Harry advanced on the large Syrian and his big hammer. He took a couple of practice stabs, drawing the big man in, teasing him, making him angry, and when Dagan roared, wound his whole body behind a blow and swung with all his might at the shield hoping to crack it and his arm at the same time, the wizard smirked, waited till the last second, and then let go of the defensive tool entirely, its rounded edge supporting its stand on the ground just long enough to meet its purpose.
The blow landed, and without Harry present to steady it and offer even a measure of a counter weight, the Syrian found himself forced off balance by the momentum of his own weapon and motion. As he staggered, the Briton moved in on swift feet, sword flashing. As the crowd watched he swung cuts that, had the blade been real, would have removed limbs, severed arteries, and finally taken his head. A final swipe conked Dagan on the side of the head and laid him flat in the dirt, to the accompaniment of much cheering and delight from the others. They absolutely loved watching newbies wail on each other.
Harry should have kept his eyes on his opponent. He should have known such a bad tempered fool wouldn't take a public defeat like this lying down. Harry heard a roar of rage, turned, and found Dagan rushing him from the ground, latching on to his sword arm, and driving him into a wall to drive his other hand into his neck, squeezing with the powerful wrath of a shamed man.
Through the tumult of wagering gladiators in the background, Harry could hear Crixus screaming and trying to break through to aid him, but no one was letting him. "Play a trick now, shit fucker." Dagan hissed in his native tongue as he increased the pressure, "What can you do when I hold your sword arm!?"
"This!" the former boy who lived hissed before dropping his gladius into his other hand and kneeing the Syrian in the crotch (it was amazing how often that tactic proved effective) driving him back from the wall and providing space to move. It didn't free his right arm however, as the big man was holding tight to it regardless of the pain he felt.
'Well,' he thought to himself, 'all that does is keep him exactly where I can hit him.' and so he did. With the same dexterity of his right arm Harry began to rain down blows on the gasping form of his opponent. He smashed fingers, broke his nose, cracked ribs, and shattered an eardrum before the doctore cracked his whip to bring an end to the brawl. The men groaned en masse as each passed coins around to cover bets before moving off to their own training. The doctore didn't leave though. Instead he walked over to the strange Briton that had joined them all so late in the season.
"You fight well with your left hand, yet you train the right in the yard." He noted.
Harry shrugged. "I grew up fighting with my fists. When one gets too damaged you use the other. I'm used to both sides."
"Hm." The man moved off and came back with the wooden gladius he'd bludgeoned Dagan with along with another. "Take these both and go to Oenomaus. Tell him I sent you for dual training."
**Flashback End**
And so Harry had been trained to use two blades at once, much like the current champion of the house, Gannicus, and his predecessor Oenomaus. It was intense, grueling, often painful, and advanced him in skill and overall respect amongst the brothers in leagues and bounds. Especially with the intense pace he insisted upon from his instructor. (There's no need for a rest day, or time to recover from shattered ribs, when you can heal all wounds in a couple of days at most). The wizard had found the experience… enlightening. Oenomaus just might be the single most honorable man he had ever had the pleasure of meeting, and he was also entirely devoted to the house that owned him; believing wholeheartedly that without it he would never have amounted to anything more than a thief on the street. In this house he had an honored position as the greatest gladiator in the ludus, wounded or not. He had a wife that came to see him weekly, and his view of the world was… unique to say the least. He saw no problem with living in bondage, nor dying in it. To him, falling upon the sands to the applause of thousands was the perfect end to a glorious life.
Harry had taken that information in stride and reminded himself, not for the first time, that people's values were different in this time. And that those that had lived their lives in chains often had different desires and end goals. His own were not so crazy in his opinion. He wanted freedom in the long run, and was willing to become the best gladiator he could to get it. Other than that, well, the way the men crowed about rewards of women and wine… At nineteen Harry had still yet to touch a woman (not much chance when enslaved) and he was keenly aware of that lack in his 'education'. He only hoped the other men never found out. Needless to say, he wanted freedom, wealth, and women in equal measure. Not necessarily in that order. It was a good thing his upbringing had made him patient.
Crixus was another story entirely. As long as Harry had known him he'd been desperate to prove himself as a warrior and as a man. He saw his enslavement and forced labor as a slight on his manhood and abilities. Now, however, he was being asked to give his all everyday, to excel, to become a man above others for the screaming adulation of a crowd. Harry was working his ass off to break his chains, but Crixus was doing the same to become the new champion of Capua. He trained to win.
It wasn't all peaches and rainbows however. The other men hazed them relentlessly. Pissing in their food, dousing their sleeping matts in flour, hiding the training weapons in increasingly out of the way places and sending them questing after them. Harry and Crixus took it in stride. The former because he didn't really care, and the latter because he'd heard of such behavior from his father and his fellow soldiers before he'd been sold. Dealing with the craziness was just part of earning one's place in any brotherhood.
Asher and the Syrians didn't handle it with the same level of grace. They screamed in outrage, outright attacked a few members of the brotherhood, and complained incessantly about their treatment. It could only end badly.
A fact that Crixus made note of while they were sparring. "They put foul word to fouler mood, brother. Can not they see the disdain they cause in the others?"
Harry ducked a swipe of his sword, moved in close and attempted to shoulder check him, only to be met with a round shield that pushed him back several steps. "I think their opinions of themselves are too high to care. Especially with Asher. He likes to brag about martial abilities that I have not yet seen."
"Skill and merit beat out empty words every time, Harry." Crixus noted before their blades crossed once more. Both were aware of the dominus and his wife above, watching the progress of the men. "Let us show them ours. With luck we'll impress, and favored placement can mean favored rise."
Harry grinned at those words. Their goals might not be as equal as they had once been, but in the end, they needed to reach the same place to get them, and neither was in any major hurry to get there without the other at their side. "Yes, let's."
As the men continued their physical acts, up above Gaia was standing beside her greatest friend, Lucretia, and fanning her flushed face. She had run into her friend in the marketplace and asked for a place to stay for a while. A request that was easily acquiesced to. Beside them, Battiatus was speaking with an accounts slave about the current budget for grain. He took such a technical interest in his ludus, and it was quite surprising to see. Far different from the mousey young man she'd known all those years ago.
Turning her gaze back to the sweaty, muscled, and writhing men on the floor below, her eyes became locked on one warrior in particular. His body was tall, toned, and had a nice dusting of hair on the chest where all the rest shaved themselves bare. His long hair was black as night and braided long down his back (Harry hadn't seen much point in cutting it over the course of his captivity) and his beard, while unkempt, fit his face nicely. He was swinging around two swords as if he were born to the art.
A fresh and very familiar heat began to build in her core at the sight, far removed from the temperature of the day. Gripping her friend's arm tightly she steered the slightly taller female further from the woman's husband's side, following the railing of the balcony without losing sight of her target.
"Lucretia, dear, I might have a favor to ask of you."
The other woman laughed merrily at those words. "Another one, Gaia? Ah, well, what is one more for my greatest and oldest friend? What would you have of me?"
Smirking saucily, she responded, "Do you remember a few days ago when I posed the question of if you had ever considered taking a gladiator to your bed?"
The redhead gasped at the implication of her words and covered her mouth to hide her shock. "Gaia!" She checked her tone and continued more softly, "Gaia. You cannot be serious?"
"Whyever not, Lucy?" She leaned in close, "It's all the rage in Rome. Why, I've heard tell of noble ladies spending over a hundred denari for just one night with a champion of the coliseum."
"I just do not understand why you would debase yourself so. They are slaves."
"Just look at them, Lucy?" Gaia took a firm hold of her friend's chin and turned her to look at the exercising men. "They are muscled, powerful, slick, men just bursting with energy. Who wouldn't desire such fun between their legs?"
Lucretia said nothing for several seconds, simply watching the view for a while before asking, "For you, I could arrange something. Who would you like in your chambers tonight? Gannicus? He is our champion."
Gaia waved that suggestion off. "No, perhaps later, but he is not the one that currently has my eye."
"Then who?"
"Do you see that Briton with the two swords?"
"He's not even a full gladiator yet. He does not bear the mark."
The socialite shrugged lightly. "What do I care about that? He's a perfect physical specimen, he's handsome, and in all my life I've never sampled a Briton man. It would be a new and fresh experience."
Lucretia eyed her friend shrewdly, and took note of the hungry desire plain in her eyes for all to see as she began to lick her lips with expectation. She sighed, knowing from experience that the other woman was not going to let this go after focusing so deeply on it. "Very well. I'll instruct Mellita to have him cleaned and presented to you this evening."
"Oh! Lucretia you are truly the bestest of friends." Gaia was nearly hopping in place with excitement, causing the other woman to smile fondly. This was exactly why she loved Gaia so, just by being here she was releasing so much positivity and energy, more than she ever could on her own. She felt that she truly did brighten up her home, as well as her life.
Later That Night
Harry was just finishing his evening meal when his respite was interrupted by the creaking of his cell door. A beautiful woman with tanned skin and coal dark hair was waiting there with two guards by her side. He recognized Mellita, Oenomaus' wife, readily enough from her weekly visits.
He was quick to bow, pulling Crixus down with him. It wouldn't do to let the domina's personal body slave feel slighted by men lower than the rest in this pit. She could make things difficult for them if she so desired. The Syrians, notably, made no similar show of deference.
It seemed as though such an act was not necessary however, as the woman merely chuckled at the sight and waved off the bows. "There is no need for that. Harry, my husband speaks well of you. A tall feat for one yet to bear the mark. I am Mellita."
"I know, my lady. I have seen you visit your husband. May I ask what brings you to me?"
"You may." She waved a hand and the guards cleared to the side, making free a path to the upper stairs. "Your presence has been requested by the domina's dear friend. You will come with me to be prepared."
"Prepared?"
"To service her."
Harry blinked at her nonchalant delivery of that line. "By 'service' her, you mean?"
Mellita sighed at his apparent ignorance. "Mistress Gaia has a physical craving, and she desires you to fill it. In simple terms, you are expected to fuck her."
The Briton blinked once more before nodding stupidly and getting up off the ground. He was stopped suddenly by Crixus' arm on his own. "Brother, you cannot be okay with this."
"Why not? Crixus, I am nearly twenty years old and have never touched a woman. Now I'm literally being told to do so. Is it a little demeaning to be ordered to, yeah, a bit, but I'm not exactly hating it."
The larger man thought this over for a second before nodding his understanding and letting him go. "If you are sure."
The door was clanged shut and locked behind Harry as he left, and he was quickly pulled along the stairs to the upper level by the guards with Mellita following close behind. He was led to a bathing room wherein the guards left and a pair of female house slaves promptly stripped and scrubbed him raw. Harry did his best not to blush as the women ran scented wet cloths over his more intimate bits. Then a fresh cloth wrap was placed around his waist and the girls went to work on his hair and beard. The hair was unbraided, washed clean, and plaited back into a manageable fashion. As for his beard…. They trimmed it until the black scruff more neatly hugged his jawline in a fashionable way. Though there were no mirrors present, when the work was done the wizard took a look at his reflection in the water and had to admit, he looked pretty good.
The house slaves left the now dried and groomed gladiator-in-training alone with Mellita then and he asked, "What now?"
The personal slave to the domina grinned impishly at how eager the recruit sounded. "Patience, Harry. This is not a regular service offered at this ludus, so things are still being put in place. Right now the halls are being cleared to Mistress Gaia's rooms, and once they are I will bring you to them. Then it will just be you and her for as long as she desires you."
It took ten minutes for a tap to come on the door announcing the way was clear of witnesses, and Mellita had used that time to inform Harry (under a light mental push) about some of the particulars of the Brotherhood test. But the sound came, the questioning ended, and the wizard was sent alone down the hall to a rather large set of wooden doors at the end. A room clearly overlooking the vast ravine at the edge of the building itself.
Now that it came to it, Harry couldn't deny to himself how nervous he was. So he gave himself a couple slaps on the cheeks, did a few push ups to make his muscles pop, and jerkily knocked on the door. "Come in, gladiator." Her voice was honey sweet and he shuddered in place as he followed the order. Sweeping inside and closing the portal softly behind him before turning to view the source.
His breath froze in his throat. On one side of the room stood a large bed with four posters holding back silk hangings. On the other side was an open balcony and standing before it, the wind gently ruffling her hair, was the domina's friend, Gaia. She was leaned provocatively against a railing with a thin silk robe draped over her shoulders and held loosely at the waist by a light sash. The wind pulled its edges in pleasing directions that revealed very clearly that she was completely naked underneath it.
*** Bit of a Lemon ***
She seemed pleased by his slack-jawed look as she sashayed over to his side, running her fingers up and down his bare chest. "Do you like what you see in me, gladiator?" Her eyes dipped low and her grin turned wide as a cheshire. "That tented wrap tells me well enough." The hand on his chest dipped lower and gripped him firmly, earning a pleased gasp from his lips as his body began to shiver.
"My, my, that is quite the reaction." A sudden gleam entered the woman's eyes as she whispered, "Are you a maiden?"
Harry's silence answered the question well enough and as she giggled with delight he said, "I am sorry, mistress. I'm supposed to please you, but I…"
"You don't know how." Gaia finished for him, giving his length another squeeze. "Do you realize how delicious that is?" Her hand released him before she started to circle his stationary form, pulling his wrap free with her as she did. "You are a blank slate. Free as a bird from the selfish impulses of more experienced lovers." The cloth covering fell to the ground and Harry felt his nude form chilled in the breeze. It warmed right up when an equally nude Gaia melded herself to his back and began to stroke him at a medium pace.
"Just imagine it. I'll teach you all the ways of physical love. How to use your hands," her grip tightened and the pace increased, "your tongue," even faster, "your cock!" Harry tried to last, he really did, to give the best showing he could to this woman, but no one had ever touched him like this and it was all so overwhelming. With Gaia holding him upright he convulsed in her hands and gasped for air as she breathed deeply into his ear, cooing praise all the while.
It took a few moments for the former boy-who-lived to come down from that high, but when he did he actually felt guilty. Yes he was a slave, but he'd just been given pleasure without giving any back. It didn't seem fair.
Luckily that was about to be rectified. "Come, gladiator, what is your name?" She led him over to the bed before laying down upon it and dragging him down beside her.
"I-I am called, Harry." He hated how much his voice was quivering. But this woman was just so…. beautiful, mature, alluring, and she was lying on this bed with him of all people.
"Harry." His name practically purred off of her tongue. "A lovely name. Unique. Appropriate." She took his hand, separated two fingers from the rest and guided them inside her, groaning as she did. "It's my turn now."
The wizard marveled at how wet and tight Gaia's core was to the touch of his fingers. "I don't know what to-"
"Just start slow, and listen to what I tell you. Feel how my body responds to what you do."
Harry did so, and gently began to follow her words to the letter.
"Move in and out, curl your fingers a bit… yes, just like that, perfect." Gaia's body began to twitch and writhe to his ministrations as he began to pick up his own pace. "Ooh, that feels wonderful. Now you feel that little nub there, yes, that's right, are you sure you've never done this before?" Listening to the way her panting deepened when he touched that spot, Harry acted on instinct and applied more pressure before taking a liberty that had been on his mind since this entire thing began, launching in for a kiss, sealing her lips, moans, and cries with his his own mouth as she shuddered beneath him with bliss.
Her release was longer than his own, and took just as long to come down from, but when she did, her smile was downright angelic. "That was perfect, Harry." Her hand came up to cup his face. "Yes, I think I'm going to have a lot of fun educating you on the fine art of pleasure."
"Ah… me too." Harry smiled.
"Good. You will return to me every night hence. I will have Lucretia's girl, Mellita, ready to retrieve you after the evening meals."
*** Lemon End ***
It felt weird to be so happy to be ordered about, but Harry couldn't deny he rather liked this particular directive. It would be a cold day in hell before the wizard turned down sex with a beautiful woman. "So… what now?"
Gaia smirked at her new boytoy's expectant gaze and replied, "Now we cuddle, and in a little while you'll return below. Your exertions with me cannot take away from your training for the test after all." She ran her fingers lightly over his smooth, unbranded, right forearm. "It would be a shame to lose someone with such potential to a lack of practice after all."
"Hmhmhm." The gladiator trainee chuckled, "I'll try not to disappoint you then."
