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Fianna`s End

They were a strangely matched couple.

The first of the pair was Fianna, the Gladiatrix. Six foot of corded muscle, pride and confidence clear in her almond-brown eyes, her strong bronze-tanned body taut as a bowstring. Her fiery eyes were her best feature, many men said, although Fianna`s interest in male opinion was minimal. 

The second was Fauna, a cuddlesome bundle of sexy fun. A foot shorter than Fianna, but just twenty pounds lighter. Most men would not debate for long before settling on her best feature; massive pouting breasts, proudly upright, prominent rosebud nipples perked to attention, but Fianna preferred her sweetly rounded belly, the little conclavity of her belly button a frequent starting point for Fianna`s questing tongue.

Normally when they came together, kisses and caresses would lead quickly to a passionate encounter that could roll anywhere from between the nul-gee plates of a luxury victor`s suite to the uncushioned floor of Fauna`s own little used cell, but now Fauna was shaking with distress at the content of the single sheet of cheap hard copy paper in her hand.

?Oh, Fia! The Master of Games did this deliberately. What can we do now, oh please tell me what to do!?

Fianna had suspected that there would be some sort of an unpleasant surprise for her at these games, ever since she had met the Master of Games in a corridor and he had scampered past her as if afraid of a one-woman gladiator revolt. Still, Fauna, lovely and loveable as she undoubtably was, was not always the most level-headed of witnesses. Fianna had to see the evidence for herself.

?Show me the exact wording, Faun. We have to be certain that it isn`t a mistake.?

?Look here, it`s you and me! How could it be a mistake? Today, ten thirty. match two, the debut trial of a new novice. Fauna, gladius and shield against Gladiatrix Fianna, trident and net. I can read, Fianna. I wouldn`t be wrong about something like this.?

Fauna shook with emotion, a sight that would normally attract both male and female attention as her ample bosom heaved fetchingly inside her filmy silk tunic .

?The Master of Games only did it out of spite,? she continued. ?He knows that I only love you.?

Fauna put both hands on her generous hips and thrust out her chest, a pose that she considered martial, but that Fianna just considered sexily provocative.

?It must have been that last time that he used me, Fianna. I think that I might have  shouted out your name when he was shoving his beastly little string-bean up me. I`ve never told the beast that every time I go down on his disgusting little cock, I`m only thinking of you, but I`m sure that he knows. It`s my fault, I provoked him, and this is his revenge on us!

Fianna could only hug her lover soundlessly to her muscular form as Fauna`s lament finally wound down. ?Oh Fianna! I can`t fight! I couldn`t fight anyone and I certainly can`t fight against you! I`m a love slave not a fighting slave. What can we do??

Fianna`s tactical mind was already whirring through scenarios, but first she needed to persuade poor Fauna to face the unpalatable thought that she was going into the arena. Oh, the Master was a bastard. Fauna was right in one respect, she was only a love slave. She would look a total fool in the arena and there was every chance that the merciless mob would take it as an affront to them and make her pay for her lack of skill.

?There`s absolutely nothing that we can do now, poppet. You could`ve tried to wheedle and plead to get him to change his mind, if we`d known about this earlier, but it`s on the message boards now. You know that he won`t change the matches now, that he daren`t in case he is accused of match fixing. It`s all done and settled. You and I are going to have to fight this morning.?

Fauna`s big doe-like eyes looked up into her lover`s face, seeking help, pleadingly.

?No, I just can`t. I don`t even know how. Oh, Fia, I`ve never used a sword, don`t even know how to hold it. I`m a sex-slave not a gladiator. I want to kiss your body, to give it pleasure, not try to hurt it.?

?Do you trust me, Faun??

Numbly Fauna nodded.

?Then there`s only one chance for us to come safely out of this together, and that is for us to put on a really good show. If you can be the plucky underdog who shows courage and spunk, then when I put the trident to your neck, the crowd will shout to grant mercy. I will help as much as I can without it being obvious. All that you have to do is to just charge at me and try to hack lumps off me. I`ll try to make it look as if I`m truly hard-pressed.?

?What if I hurt you, darling.?

Only her lovable but dizzy Fauna could have come up with that one, Fianna thought, choking back a laugh. Fauna was already distraught, she mustn`t laugh at her at this critical juncture. Still, it was a crazy thought. Fianna, the champion gladiator versus Fauna, an exotic dancer and pleasure slave, and Fauna`s biggest worry was hurting her opponent.

Fianna ruffled Fauna`s hair.

?Don`t worry about that you silly sweetmeat. You won`t touch me except if I have to let you.?

Fianna re-ran Fauna`s words. Perhaps there was a word of wisdom in there. What would the mob think of little Fauna if she did manage to blood the gladiator sent to make an exhibition of her? Perhaps the sudden excitement of seeing a route through this dilemma made Fianna less sensitive to Fauna`s feelings, but she launched abruptly into her solution with little thought about its impact on less hardened ears.

?I am much more worried about how to make it look as if you might be a real fighter. I think that I will need to accidentally back into some of your strokes and you have to understand that I am going to have to cut you a couple of times. The crowd will be in a much more forgiving mood if there is plenty of blood on both our chests and bellies when you finally go down.?

Fauna shivered, unwilling to listen to words of blood and horror.

?Oh Fia, I`m afraid! Please don`t talk any more about blood. Give me a cuddle and kiss me instead.?

*

The announcer roared out statistics over the cheers of the capacity crowd, his words projected to every ear by the virtual speakers throughout the arena, with further detail available on the arena`s local net to everyone with even the cheapest and crudest computer implant link.

?Fianna, twelve fights, twelve wins, five kills.?

Fianna thrust her trident into the air. She had chosen the most minimal outfit possible, a single left-hand chain-mail gauntlet, thong-narrow black briefs and a twist of black silk about her chest. The more it looked like an exhibition match the less the crowd would expect the participants` life-blood.

?Fauna, novice.?

Numbly obedient to Fianna`s advice, Fauna was nude except for greaves and her shield. She looked like a frightened doe, ready to flee, not like a gladiatrix ready to fight for her life.

?Commence.?

Fauna swung her sword wildly in front of her.

Fianna prayed that none of the audience could see that Fauna`s eyes were tightly shut as the practised gladiatrix slid forward, trident at hip height, and stabbed viciously, deliberately ignoring a clean shot at Fauna`s bare belly, where  she was clumsily holding her shield too high as if to hide her face. Instead, she sent the trident stabbing right at the top edge of that shield. It hit and passed over, just inches above Fauna`s head.

Fauna looked reproachfully at her, but there was no time now for explanation. The mob had to see fast action and preferably some blood, even in an exhibition match right in the early warm-up section of the games.

Fauna swung her sword as if it were the fan in her famous fan-dance, a wide and slow curve that left her so open to so many counterstrokes. Instead, Fianna stepped forward and then ducked to make it look as if Fauna`s wild waving had forced her to evade. It was difficult to make such a rubbish performance look even half decent, but Fauna`s life depended on it. It was time for the audience to see blood.

Fianna`s professional instincts almost rebelled as she performed one of the worst net-flicks that she had ever delivered, and then in recovering her net, deliberately swung herself into the path of Fauna`s blade. She took most of the force of the sword blow on her trident, but then guided the gladius past her defence to allow it to cut a long shallow slash along her lean thigh. 

Fianna felt only elation as blood poured from a showy but superficial cut just below her hip. She had worked enough crowds to feel their moods and this one was going just as she had hoped. Cruelly amused that the professional had been cut by the hapless novice, they were right behind little Fauna now.

Fauna opened her eyes at the sudden outcry from the crowd, saw the blood flowing and looked in dismay at her sword.

?No, she cried, flinging the sword from her. ?Oh nooo! Fianna, I`ve cut you. I`ve hurt you. Oh, I`m sorry, I`m sorry!?

Fianna froze to the spot. She could feel the sudden change in the audience from amusement to malice. One thing that they despised above all others was cowardice, and one thing they hated was any attempt to take away their prerogative to dispense mercy or death. Fauna`s action looked like both and the mob were seething mad.

An inflexible gladiator was only too often a dead one, and Fianna was still very much alive. Her entire game plan changed in an instant.

There would be bitter regret at what she had to do now, but that regret was for later. Now, it was time to face up to the icy certainty that it was only death that would assuage that mob.

In seconds, not even a clean death would suffice to calm them, but now, if she acted fast and decisively and so heartrendingly cruelly against her own wishes, perhaps there was a chance to kill Fauna painlessly and to still live, but if so, it would have to be quick. Any hopes of getting general acclaim for mercy from this crowd had just gone straight up the shitter. Now it was about getting away with giving Fauna a swift death.

She picked up the gladius and held it out to Fauna.

?Faun, my love, listen to me! You must get hold of this and fight now. Please, Faun. Attack me now. I can`t save your life but I can cut you down quickly. Please pick up the sword. If you don`t do what I say then they will crucify you!?

Fauna wasn`t even listening. She was horrified and mesmerised by what she thought that she had done. She just backed away, crying, shaking her head. ?I hurt you, Fia. Oh, no, I cut your lovely thigh with that horrid, beastly thing.?

?Kill, her, kill her,? the mob started a rhythmic chant, then what Fianna had most feared, their cries began to change to more gruesome suggestions. ?Crucify the coward, burn her on the cross, nail her low and let the beasts have her!?

The Master of Games eyed the crowd with annoyance. He had certainly wanted to teach the two lesbian sluts a lesson, but had hoped that at the end he could have saved Fauna and perhaps have reaped some reward in the shape of extra effort and passion in their next encounter. But he feared that the cute little thing had had her final blond moment. His balls were on the line now if the mob didn`t get Fauna on a particularly painful platter.

He signalled for his own image to be included in the tri-D feed to the arena and then slowly, symbolically, pointed his power staff towards the great Board of Fates. The glowing cursor slid down the tall board, down from the capering symbol for freedom, down from the sign of mercy, past the straight sword of swift death, straight to the last symbol, the stylised image of cross and flame, the symbol for death by torture.

Fianna saw where the cursor had settled. Thankfully, Fauna`s back was to the board and she was still bemoaning the trivial wound that she had inflicted. She didn`t know what was coming and, Fianna determined with full knowledge of the consequences of her decision, her soft, helpless Fauna must never know.

?Fauna, my silly, beloved, Faun,? Fianna sighed. ?You hardly touched me with your silly swings, and now you have done what twelve trained gladiators couldn`t do. You have just killed me.?

The Master`s thugs, his handlers of the dead and doomed, were entering the arena to seize the sobbing Fauna as Fianna leaned towards her. ?Everything will be all right, my love. Come here my poppet. Come here and kiss me, and I promise you that I will make everything all right.?

Fauna moved trustingly into Fianna`s arms and her doe-like eyes suddenly widened in shock. The warrior squeezed her lover to her and kissed ruby lips that were suddenly flecked with blood, looked into soft blue eyes that were suddenly filming over with death. Fianna leaned in hard, ensuring that the gladius was deep into Fauna, right through her heart. Fauna`s eyes closed and her limp body collapsed to the sand.

The crowd were baying like maddened wolves whose pray had suddenly vanished. The Master of Games looked at the near riot in both anger and terror.

?Get that slut to surgery now!? the Master commanded into his implant microphone, deliberately switching to a commonly used open channel. ?I want her saved for her crucifixion, whatever it costs. Use transplants if necessary, but bring her back.?

He noted that his transmission had been picked up by dozens of the Games enthusiasts who had blogged it onwards in a widening circle. That was fine by him, he wanted the mob to know that he was acting, immediately and regardless of cost. He didn`t want their unpredictable malice to rebound on him.

?Stand aside, Fianna,? the leader of the thug squad commanded. ?you are already in a world of hurt, but if we can still save her then your own death may be a fraction easier.?

Fianna grinned at the four thugs who were advancing on her, and with a wolfish smile, she returned the sword to the guard position. ?You know what, Ozzie, I`ve always wanted to off you, you loud-mouthed shit bag,? she informed their leader calmly. ?And now I have absolutely nothing to lose!?

With a swift crouching movement she seized up the trident and, using the upthrust of her strong legs to generate extra force to her throw she flung the heavy device left-handed, straight at the leader of the Master`s men.

He went head over heels backwards, the three blades had passed right through him and were protruding from his back by a hands-breadth.

?If you want my Fauna, then you will have to come and take her, you slugs!?

Fianna was sure that she could hold them off for the few minutes needed to guarantee irrevocable brain death. It would cost her own life, but there would be no surgeons bringing Fauna back to complete the Master`s sentence, no crucifixion for her lover.

The mob was seething, yelling advice, breaking into factions, a few even cheering Fianna, but most screaming for her blood.

?At least take that crazy slut Fianna alive!? the Master cried, a command to his thugs and a promise to his audience.

Fianna circled cautiously to stay between the three survivors and her fallen lover, thowing out a challenge. ?Yes, you assholes. Come on down and try to take me alive. Fauna and I will need some servants in hell.?

The Master knew the quality of Fianna and had ordered three male gladiators and a further three of his expendable thugs into the arena with tangle nets. Fianna looked longingly at the tip of the captured gladius as they paired off and spread out to approach her from all quadrants. Now was the right time to kill herself, possibly her last chance to die easily. But it was still possible that Fauna could be revived, she needed another minute to be certain.

The net men were inching closer now, unwilling to rush in against a fighter of Fianna`s calibre. That was long enough for Fauna, too long, she feared, for herself. With a roar of cold fury at her likely fate, Fianna attacked, slashing at the first net as it dropped towards her, then thrusting and impaling another of the Master`s thugs just before the second and third nets dragged her sword down from guard and the three gladiators expertly twisted the steel mesh of the nets to topple her into the sand.

Heavy boots stamped down, pinning the sword to the ground. A kick to the head dazed her and one gladiator stomped down on her belly. Fianna blanched with the disabling pain of that kick and rolled a half turn, trying to escape. The net entangled her yet more tightly and there was no room to escape those boots. Screaming curses but otherwise impotent to defend herself further, she suffered an expert kicking from the friends of the two dead thugs before one of the surviving thugs unhooked a pair of heavy cuffs from his belt. She tried to punch at him with one entangled hand but the gladiators controlling the net dragged it still tighter about her and the thug managed to get first one then Fianna`s second wrist into the heavy duty hand cuffs.

Defeated, Fianna let her body relax within the net and there was a instant of truce.

?Well Fianna this is a real mess you`ve got yourself into,? one of the gladiators sympathised. ?So now we have the cuffs on you, are you going to stand up and walk like a gladiator or do we drag you there like a newly caught native-girl.?

?Thank you for offering a choice, Scar. I appreciate the courtesy,? she replied. ?Let go of the nets and I will come quietly now. I have bought Fauna her rest and I guess that all along, I knew the price. If you will allow it, then I would prefer to get up on my own feet and go to my death like a warrior.?

The Master`s factotum was waiting as Fianna passed through the arch into the relative darkness of the holding area. Her wrists were cuffed and Scar had one hand firmly on her arm, but Fianna was otherwise free.

?I thought that you would have been dragging the slut by her hair after what she did to your two colleagues.?

Scar gave the factotum a level look.

?A trident in the belly is just an occupational hazard, so I wouldn`t think any worse of Fianna if she had stuck it to one of us, but actually she did no such thing. Please don`t suggest that the Master`s thugs qualify as one of us will you. If you compare the Master`s corpse-porters with trained gladiators, then that could really hurt all our feelings.?

The factotum backed off a pace. ?No offence, gladiator. Remember that I am a free man!?

?Which means that I would always call you sir, even if I was cutting your liver out,? Scar laughed, then leaned in towards Fianna.

?It was a very brave choice that you made. I think that it was stupid, but certainly brave. The Master of Games went too far with this one and someone will make sure that he gets his comeupence eventually. If I was him, I`d make sure that I didn`t stand too close to the edge of the Lion pit for the next few weeks.?

In spite of her dire situation, Fianna was touched by this effort to comfort her. She nodded her thanks as Scar continued.

?You weren`t the only one who liked little Fauna, I always liked her too. I loved hearing that little whooping orgasm that she did, even though I knew damned well that she was half faking it and thinking of you, even when I was giving her my best.?

?I don`t feel too brave now, Scar,? Fianna admitted. I don`t suppose you could just cut my throat for me could you??

?I don`t suppose that I could, Fianna. That mob are baying like beasts. Anyone who stands in their way is more than just dead. I`m sorry, but you are really in for the full treatment.?

Scar tried to think of something encouraging to say. Not easy when facing a colleague, almost friend, who was about to die the most agonising death.

?We won`t think the worse of you if you scream and beg,? he finally said lamely. ?Everyone does. It`s no shame on you if you scream. It may help.?

Scar`s homily petered out. As with most of his colleagues, philosophy and introspection took a very distant second place to action.

?Thanks, I think,? Fianna responded. ?I think that that was meant to help, but, Jupiter, I wish that I wasn`t here now!?

The Factotum adjusted his earpiece and stepped a little closer to Fianna, still ensuring that at least one gladiator was between him and the amazon, even though she was securely cuffed.

?Fianna, I have just received the Master`s orders. They are ready for you now in the arena. He orders that you are to be taken out and crucified immediately before the crowd and that once your cross is raised that you be additionally tortured for their amusement.?

Fianna forced herself to keep her eyes open, squeezed back tears of self-pity. She had seen the mewling wreaks left after crucifixion and was grateful to Scar for giving her tacit agreement that her behaviour once raised would be out of her control, but she would walk to the cross at least, head high, still a gladiatrix.

As if he had read her mind, the Factotum continued.

?Because of the grievous nature of your offence, you will be nailed to your patabellum immediately that you reach the Presidium gate and then will be flogged around the arena for three circuits before your cross is raised.?

?Scar, you and your boys will take her to the arch and stay to help the Carnifax until she is firmly nailed. We don`t want her getting free and doing herself a mischief, otherwise the Master will have all our balls on his luncheon plate.?

Fianna bit her lip, absorbing the sentence.

She had known intellectually that hope was gone, but with human illogic, still refused to believe that the polished arena machine that had handled thousands of doomed victims over the years would carry her smoothly to her own death. She wanted to believe, had to believe, that somehow, something would happen to allow her out of all of those victims some unique opportunity to escape. But it looked hopeless. Scar was at least her equal in combat and there would be not only him but three fully-trained gladiators to back up the Carnifax and his helpers.

?Shall we go, Fianna.? Scar offered her at least the illusion of choice and she nodded in agreement, unwilling to speak in case the terror in her heart converted to a coward`s quiver in her voice.

Both because he was keen to put this disagreeable duty behind him and as a kindness to Fianna, he dragged her hastily towards the arch.

?Come, best that it`s done quickly, eh,? he grunted, signalling for the others to follow.

?Best, yes,? she managed to agree. Then the sunlight of the arena floor hit her and the arena smell was in her throat, the sharp iron taste of blood and the ozone smell that clashing weapons seemed to generate.

Just within the shade cast by the arch itself, the Carnifax stood, a foursquare block of muscle. He was as broad and muscled as any blacksmith, the heavy leather apron adding to the effect. But no self-respecting blacksmith examined their clients so coldly, no blacksmith had red-brown stains of human blood across his apron.

His eyes measured her as if she were merely a thing to be processed. She had fought and killed and lived for years with the knowledge that the next weekend of combat could well be her last, but to be eyed as if she were a mere thing sent a shiver up her spine.

The Carnifax`s two assistants moved towards Fianna and she turned to face the closest of them, a wide-shouldered Nubian, oiled and proud in a leather and steel loincloth. He looked strong, but much slower than her. Could she take him? Easily if she were free, more tricky with her wrists firmly secured. Her subconscious plotted her few available moves. Yes, she could put him down and out. It would get her nothing but a further kicking, but she could do it.

?If you come a step closer, I`ll kick your balls through your throat,? she said levelly. ?Carnifax, call off your thugs and just tell me where you want me to be and it will be easier for us both, I promise.?

The Carnifax eyed the tense-bodied gladiatrix, barefoot in her tiny thong and improvised bikini top of twisted silk. His boys had successfully handled trained soldiers and hard-boiled street-fighters and she was clearly adequately cuffed, but she looked as hard as steel and something about the determination in her eyes gave him pause.

?OK, gladiatrix. We`ll try it your way first,? he agreed, pointing to the heavy crosspiece that lay close to his feet. ?Down on the wood there, head just above the bar, feet towards the gate.?

With her wrists tightly held behind her it was difficult for Fianna to go down gracefully, so she knelt close to the crossbeam and then flopped onto her side, both arms perforce together, pointing backwards away from her buttocks.

?Scar, let me do this with some dignitas. I will give you no trouble, just unlock the cuffs.?

He looked at Fianna suspiciously. ?No tricky stuff??

?No tricky stuff,? she agreed. ?Let me stretch myself out for the nails so that at least people will remember that Fianna died well. Come on Scar, you are going to have to unlock them at some time. He can`t very well nail my hands behind me can he.?

?If you make a move to run or try for anything sharp then we will have you straight down again and then we will help the Carnifax`s men to handle you like slave dung. But that would make us look very stupid, Fianna, so just remember that after the crowd go to their homes tonight, we will still be here and there are things that we could do all through a long night that would make your cross even less pleasant.?

?I don`t need your threats, Scar. I know that my time is now. I just want to get on with it. Unlock those cuffs now and I will put myself in position and you can tell your cronies in ten years time when you are a rich tavern owner that the bravest thing that you ever saw was Fianna the gladiatrix spreading her arms to the cross and taking the nails without flinching.?

?If I end up regretting this, then you will regret it more!? Scar couldn`t forebear to make one last threat, but he unlocked the cuffs, the three gladiators all watching the prone woman closely. Fianna, true to her boast just wriggled her body an inch further towards the crosspiece and spread her wrists wide on the wood.?

?Oh Jupiter,? she prayed. ?Let me bear this well. Please give me courage! Carnifax. I am ready. Would you please be about your work.?

The Factotum had commanded one of the many floating tri-D cameras to focus on this nailing and the Master noted on his own virtual console that thousands of watchers from outside of the arena had switched to this scene and that a dozen active bloggers were commenting live. There was even a small Fianna fan-club spontaneously generating, although his polling charts were still a massive ninety six percent in favour of her death.

Fianna`s eyes were focussed on the chisel-headed point of the eight inch nail as if it were the sword of an enemy. But unlike an opponent`s sword, she knew that evasion was impossible, a parry and riposte forbidden. Her gladiatrix-trained reflexes strummed with tension as she held her wrist still, not a hand touching her, held to the wood by nothing but her own will. 

They called that thing a nail from pure tradition, but it was no ordinary household nail, it was the culmination of hundreds of years of cruelly practical experimentation. A stainless steel chisel point widening to a squared cross section wide enough to completely fill the carpal tunnel of a wrist, narrow downward-pointing knobs to act as dull barbs and prevent it being withdrawn, the barbs growing longer and sharper past the half-way point of the nail until it widened abruptly into a shield of metal padded with an adhesive plastic that would prevent even the most violent motion from tearing the trapped hand free from its pinion by wrenching the hand outwards over the nail.

The Carnifax rotated the head of the nail to its optimal angle and looked suspiciously at the tense-faced warrioress. The first strike needed to be clean, he thought. She may think that she is ready, but no one is ready for what she is about to feel. The real test of whether she had courage was not this gesture, but whether she could do it again with her other hand once she had felt the agony of the first nail.

A nod to his hammer man and the nail moved abruptly under his hand, the sharp barbs of mid-point just tickling the flesh of his guiding fingers. It was a good clean strike, penetrating at least three inches into the wood behind the client`s wrist.

Her scream was a good, loud piercing shriek, a promising scream that spoke of vitality and good lung capacity. The Master had been firm that this client had to last well, but that scream sounded hopeful. Did any Carnifax wear earplugs, he wondered, inconsequentially. If so they were missing a vital diagnostic trick.

Fianna felt the scream torn unbidden from her throat. Oh it was worse than a scimitar cut, worse than a sword through the guts, and she had had that! Her pinned wrist bucked upwards and the barbs on the surface of the nail sawed at the remaining tattered nerves between the bones of her shattered wrist. Her fingers hooked helplessly in, obeying nerve impulses that no longer came from her brain, but from the ruptured nerves that now occupied the same space as the obdurate steel of that devilish, agonising nail.

?NOOOOOhhhhhhh pleeeaaaseeeeeeeee,? she converted a plea for mercy into a meaningless wail. ?No, no, oh fuck no!!?

The hammer man smacked the broad head of the nail once more to bed it correctly. Just two clean blows and the first nail was exactly bedded. He was justifiably proud of a job well done, even if the client had made it easier by not going through all that tiresome and ultimately futile resistance. I wonder if there will be time to grab a quick burger from one of the arena vendors while she is being scourged around the arena, he wondered as he waited for his next command.

The pain built and burned and Fianna`s eyes filmed with moisture. ?Fuck, it hurts, fuck it hurts, Fuck it Hurts!!!? she sobbed, her voice rising to a crescendo, then dropping to a lower, more private conversation, but one still clearly picked up by the directional microphones of the tri-D drone.

?Oh, Jupiter, please help me.?

A pause for reply. 

?Oh, Jupiter, please stop the pain.?

Another expectant pause.

?Oh. Jupiter, go fuck yourself for doing this to me!?

?Time for her other wrist,? the Carnifax instructed. ?Scar, will you help my assistant??

?Fuck your assistant! I could still pull his balls off with one hand you know,? Fianna grunted through the pain. ?I know what to do. Know the drill now. Already done it once! Here!!?

To the Carnifax`s amazement, the sweat-sheened gladiatrix at his feet thrust her free hand out and slapped it hard back against the wood as if to stun its resistance. Her eyes were filmed with tears, cloudy with pain but still open as she looked him full in the face.

?Time for the other wrist, you said,? she forced words between clenched lips. ?Here you are. On a plate. As I promised. Remember Fianna the Gladiatrix. I won twelve fights and died for love. I am dying for my Fauna, and that is the price that I pay willingly.?

The Carnifax did not waste this opportunity, swiftly he positioned and signalled and his trusty henchman delivered another perfect blow.

?Shhhhhiiiiitttttt, shiittt, shittt,? the client grunted. A memory of his old home world and preserved steam trains came to his mind. That`s what she sounded like, like a steam train starting out of a station. A low chuff, then faster and higher. He grinned down at her, but unsurprisingly, she didn`t get the joke.

Fianna`s eyes flickered to her right hand, her ruined right hand, and the tears were for more than pain, although that was excruciating enough. They had destroyed her skilled hand as casually as she would have flicked a bothersome fly out of existence.

?Twelve wins, gone. Oh you bastards! You and the fucking Master too! Damn you all to hell and if there ever was a god then damn him as well and damn every last one of you watching and damn, damn, damn.?

Her curses wound down to a standstill. The Master shook his head at the perversity of the mob. Her round and comprehensive cursing of them had actually added five whole points to her approval rating. But he knew his mob well, knew how to pander to their elemental passions. She may be in a very precarious honeymoon situation right now, but the slightest weakness and they would be down on her all the harder for their initial support. He went sub-vocal to the Carnifax`s earpieces.

?Show the crowd her tits and then get on with the whipping.?

Left to his own devices, the Carnifax would have given the shivering, sobbing  gladiatrix another minute to master her pain. She had been incredibly brave to take the second nail that way, but he could see that it had taken all of her courage. Even in the bravest, courage was a finite resource. Perhaps, like a battery it could recharge, but he could see that her current stocks were right on the red line. Still, an order was an order.

?Pull off that bitty of rag, the Master says,? he delegated to Scar. Her feet were still free and even though he prudently wore a box under his working apron, he didn`t want to put any part of himself close to her whilst performing that function.

?Fianna, can you hear me clearly?? Scar dropped to one knee by her head.

?Nailed my fucking arms, not my ears,? she grunted through the waves of pain. ?Not in mood for a debating society, but I can hear you!?  

?You know that it is your scourging next??

?Three times round arena,? she agreed, her voice still thick with pain. ?Piece of cake. Chased fat asses like yours more `an three times round arena before they`d stand and fight. You gonna help me up??

The Carnifax had cruxified men, women and children across six planets and twenty years. It happened rarely, and in the last ten years more rarely still, that he felt anything other than professional coolness towards the clients who he serviced. But this gladiatrix with her tight-lipped control of her agonised bronzed body had attracted his rare approbation. 

?We will both help you to your feet,? he found himself advising. The patebellum is heavy and balances badly. You need to bow your head well forward and take most of the weight on your shoulders. That will also ease the strain on the nails.?

?Got to do that,? she agreed. ?Don`t want t` ruin all your work.?

?My nails will not come free,? he responded automatically. ?But your nerves will sing like canaries when your weight goes on those nails. That is yet to come to you, but I offer you advice to delay that moment. Listen to me or not as you wish!?

To his amazement she managed a lop-sided smile at him. ?Sorry. In a bad temper. Can`t think why. Can I know your name? Should be properly introduced to the man who nails you to a cross.?

?Zardos,? he introduced shortly. ?Zardos, son of Michas. My world is Gerhault.?

It felt weird. You introduced yourself to colleagues, occasionally to Masters and Lords when specifically asked, not to half-naked clients, laying at your feet, already nailed to the wood. What would be next? Should he ask politely if he could strip her and scourge her??

Scar was already at that point. They aided her to her knees, the two men taking the weight of the wooden cross piece whilst Fianna got her feet under her body and then eased herself upright into a precarious stance, bare feet spread to balance against the pulling, disorientating weight of the patebellum across her shoulders. Then Scar quietly informed her.

?You know that you must be scourged naked don`t you Fianna.?

?Supposed to be traditional,? she allowed. ?Not ashamed of m` body.?

?I will arrange that now, Fianna,? he warned, reaching deliberately slowly to unfasten the improvised breast covering. The little twist of silk fell away from her small but pert breasts and he continued the motion, hooking a finger in either side of her thong panties and pulling downwards sharply to expose every convolution of her almost bald crotch.

She stepped obediently out of them, and then, encouraged by the success of that movement, she experimentally took a halting step forward, her fine sense of balance already feeling and making the adjustments necessary to bearing a half hundredweight of wood upon her neck and shoulders.

Zardos felt a meek tap on his shoulder.

?Ya don` want me fer t` scourgin` d` ya boss??

?No, Jasper will do that, why??

?Early start t`day an` no breakfast. Could do wit` a burger, boss.?

The incongruity raised a rare laugh.

?What`s funny, boss?? the hammer man asked anxiously, suspecting that the joke was somehow on him.

?You are the funny man, Baz. This client toughed out a nailing without being held down. Twice. She`d actually got me going to the extent that Hardboiled Zardos was introducing himself like she was the Master`s Lady and trying to give her advice to help her get through it, and then you come along, so cocking insensitive that you want to wander off for a burger.?

The hapeless Baz tried to comment, then shrank away in fear as his boss continued his diatribe unabated. ?Now the poor cunt is going to be whipped round the entire arena carrying that crossbar every inch of the way, and what does it mean to you, it means, `oh good, that`s long enough to eat a burger`!?

?It is so, boss, so can I go??

Zardos shook his head. ?Oh, piss off then, but you`d better be back in plenty of time to help get her into the air properly or you might be on as a special display in the snake pit this afternoon. The Master`s been up my ear implant twice on private message telling me to make sure that this one lasts. If anything goes wrong with cruxing this client, then, when the music stops, I’m going to make sure that I’m not the one without a cocking chair.?

Zardos` attention was drawn back to his client by the characteristic swish of a short-bladed, cruelly weighted scourge. It was wielded with skill and enthusiasm by Jasper, a handsomely bearded, ebony skinned warrior-priest of the cult of kali. Jasper was a man happy in his work carrying out tasks that exactly fitted his religion and his temperament. Having warmed his shoulder muscles with a few practice swings he shook out the nine strands of the scourge, ensuring that the cruel glass and metal studs knotted into the leather hung straight down towards the sand of the arena floor, well clear of his bare leg. With a serene smile, he waited for his victim to cross the invisible start line that he had drawn in the sand.

Fianna showed considerable less enthusiasm. Head down, she plodded into range of his scourge, leaning forward in the hope that the very first stroke would not fling her to the ground. The arena was a hundred paces across, at least three hundred paces around, nearly a thousand paces to complete three circuits.

The evilly designed strands of the scourge hissed through the still, dry air to explode across Fianna`s belly and lower chest.  

?Ahhhhh,? an involuntary exhalation that was just short of a scream of pain. Fianna desperately tried to control the beginnings of hyperventilation, slowing her breathing with conscious discipline. It hurt, but she had fought a whip-duel at the beginning of her career, a fight between two naked novices both armed with razor tipped bullwhips. This hurt no more than that bullwhip and couldn`t compare with the pain of her earlier nailing.

?Keep going, Fianna,? Scar couldn`t help but encourage. ?Every step will bring you nearer!?

?Yeh, if I can stagger another nine hundred ninety nine paces then I get rewarded by being nailed up,? Fianna snapped. ?I know that you`re trying to help, but just shut the fuck up will you.?

?Fuuuuccckkkkk!?

Jasper, irritated by the lack of success of his first stroke, had brought the vicious blades of his scourge hissing in an upwards stroke between Fianna`s thighs and its glass and metal studding had ripped deep into her exposed genitals. Fianna went down like a sack of potatoes, unable to protect her face and breasts from taking the impact of her fall, although the silver sand surface did prevent anything more than minor abrasions.

?Fuck you, you shit-bag bastard!? Fianna screamed at Jasper from her place, face down in the sand, adding further insults between her sobs of pain.

?Your fucking mother mated with an ape. Then they delivered the baby`s shit and threw the real you away!? she extemporised.

Jasper grinned in pleasure. That was a better reaction. Then he saw that Zardos had the inane grin on his face that most inexpert implant users adopted when receiving an incoming message. Seconds later, Zardos was beside him.

?The Master says that if she doesn`t make it to the third circuit then that scourge is going all the way up your arse! Keep the cocking thing on target will you!?

Scar and Zardos helped Fianna back to her feet. She squeezed her thighs together to try and relieve the agony that throbbed in her torn genitals. She could feel the damp warmness of blood still trickling down her inner thigh. That one had really hurt. Oh, how it hurt and there was more hurt to come when she tried to move. She slid one bare leg forward a single foot’s length and then brought the second foot alongside the first, advancing in a crablike fashion to relieve the pain of that cruelly vicious blow.

Six or eight paces then pain. Double pace, double pace double pace, pain!? Jasper was obeying Zardos` last command and lay the blows of the scourge across Fianna`s upper back, belly, breasts and lower back in alternation.

*

Fianna had completed her first circuit of the arena and was beginning to weave as she walked. At each step, droplets of her blood fell to stain the sand, her back was raw with criss-crossed lash marks, her breasts and belly scarcely better.

Jasper had been keeping tally, even if Fianna had not been properly concentrating in that regard. It had been fifty one strokes, almost spot on his target of fifty per circuit. They had been good strokes too. She was a tough old amazon and there had been a tad less screaming than he had expected, but now she was properly tenderised, each stroke was generating a satisfactory response, at least a noisy burst of air in a hiss of pain, and better when he managed to catch a nipple full-on. She hadn`t pleaded yet, but perhaps the second circuit could solve that.

The Master smirked at his graphs. His close up cameras and sound recorders had been tapped by one of the big planetnet channels now and Fianna was live on at least one prime time adult channel. That alone would pay for her replacement and Fauna too, but if the interest continued and Fianna could be kept to the plot then he could look forward to a big bonus from what had started as just a bit of petty vengeance. Perhaps his subconscious was even more astute than he thought. This was turning out to be a good day, a very good day indeed.

Zardos eyed Fianna`s belly where a series of strokes had landed in overlay and where the depth of the cut into her skin threatened to expose vulnerable gut below. That sort of extrusion could reduce the client`s viability markedly. He could not act against the Master`s instructions but he sidled closer to Jasper.

?Space your hits further apart. No more than thirty on the next circuit and most on her back. You`ll have her guts out if you hit low on the belly a few more times and then she`ll never last.?

Jasper nodded in obedience. He was rarely allowed to whip a victim to death. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride, eh, he thought cheerfully. Still, job satisfaction came from within and this was still the best of all jobs in the best of all worlds.

*

By the end of her second circuit, Fianna was weaving and veering erratically, half of her steps in a random direction, only half towards the elusive finish line. She fell for the twentieth time as she started the third circuit and greatly daring, Zardos PM`d a message for the attention of the Master.

The Master looked at the virtual screens that danced about him. The live feed was still clicking up fees at a very satisfactory rate. The mob were content, with eighty five percent approval rating, a vicious few percent complaining that the suffering was inadequate and a growing Fianna fan club, one of whom had even started the hopeless hare of mercy running. He checked the numbers, but no danger on that front. Even amongst the fan club members, the majority were still poling for death, regardless of the fact that that would mean the speedy dissolution of the club except for a few re-run fanatics. No, the key thing was the live feed and any break in the action would lose that like boiling mud would melt snow.

?Thank you, Master. Just order the impossible, chief, and then kill the injun who can`t deliver it. Baz! BAZ!?

?Here, boss,? Baz materialised at his side, the last remains of a quarter pounder burger still in greased paper in one hand.

?Toss that bloody burger away right now and go get a quad-bike and a sled and half a dozen standard coffle lengths of chains and move like your ass depends on it because it cocking well might!?

Scar was trying to help Fianna to her feet again, although it no longer seemed such a good idea. Then Zardos had hold of the other end of the cross-bar and Fianna was wobbling between them, her head slowly processing in a wide circle, weight almost held upright on legs flecked with blood. Her eyes were still bright, but there was just no more left for her body to give.

?Not going to make it. Be late for my own cross,? she sighed dreamily. ?Might as well just let go an` whip me here. Not gonna manage any more am I.?

?Just hold her for a few more seconds, Baz, where the cock are you!?

The quad-bike came racing into the arena and one of the cameras followed Baz`s showy turn and the slide of the wooden sledge through the sand.

?Right, dump her on the sledge, face up would play better with the audience. Chain her down to it. Get three of those chains across her belly where that deep cut is so that we don`t open it up any more, I can already see a loop of her guts pushing through. Baz, get on and drive this thing in big wheelies or whatever you call that skid that you just did. Each time you do a figure of eight, I want you to get another tenth of a circuit or so up the track.?

Baz nodded and helped Scar to loop the chains. They were to prevent Fianna from being thrown off the sled, not to prevent her escape so they didn`t need to be tensioned any more than hand tight. With that completed, Baz clambered onto the quad-bike and gunned the engine, eager to become a tri-D star in his own right.

?Jasper, I want you to give her a good hard thrash across the tits each time she goes past you. That should be ten each way, she should be able to take another twenty on the front as long as you don`t shift those chains that are holding her guts in. You`re going to have to shift your ass once the bike passes you to get in position for the next pass. I`d like you to make it all the way round in ten passes. Twelve might be OK. More and you may be helping feed the lions tomorrow.?

?Hold on, gladiatrix,? Zardos commanded, not entirely cruelly. ?For your third circuit you get to ride on your own carriage like a cocking princess.?

The Master gave a broad smile. All a top executive needed to do was to pick the right subordinates and give them the right incentive. Zardos had come up with a winner there. The third circuit had threatened to lose audience interest and even more important, the live feed. But the network had just refreshed the feed for another ten minutes. Another bonus rolling in. But best not to be too greedy. Zardos had better have a little dip of his snout into that one, say twenty percent of the gross bonus for his efforts.

*

Fianna starred up at the single wispy cloud that marred an otherwise perfect sky. Cirrus? Yes definitely cirrus. Must tell Fauna. No, Fauna was dead.

Killed Fauna myself, she thought. To save her from a fate worse than death. Was there such a thing? Hell, yes, lucidity unfortunately returned. There was such a thing and this was it.

?That was your third circuit, Fianna. No one has ever done three circuits,? Scar encouraged. ?They`re going to let me get back to our barracks once they have raised your cross, but I will remember Fianna when I open my tavern, just like you said.?

?Fianna the gladiatrix,? Fianna managed to whisper through cracked lips. ?Twelve wins. Died for love. Took the nails. Took the whip. Tough as boots.?

?Got it, Fianna,? Scar agreed almost tenderly. Died for the love of Fauna. Held still for her own nailing. Did three circuits of the arena under the scourge. Died well.?

?Last still to do,? Fianna corrected. ?Still a lot to do.?

The Carnifax and his men had hooked up the top of the patebellum to lifting equipment. Three large eyes had been threaded with steel hawser and the whole patebellum was close to swinging Fianna`s weight into the air. Zardos leaned forward to try and prepare his client.

?In few more seconds your feet will come off the ground and all your weight will go onto those two nails through your wrists. When it does it will hurt more than anything so far. Just let yourself go. Scream as loud as you want and can, it helps, honestly, it helps. There`s no shame in it.?

He found himself touching her cheek and pulled back abruptly.

?Just so you know, client,? he finished roughly and gave the signal for the lift to begin.

Fianna`s world exploded into pain. Every cut of the whip added together and delivered in a single instant would have been less. Both nails passing through and destroying fresh nerves at her nailing was certainly less. Boiling lead would have cauterised itself so would rapidly have become less. There just was no equivalent, and it continued. It went on and on through half a subjective lifetime. Time must have stopped and there was only pain. Pain and that incredible noise, and the noise was her, a ulating, full-throated shriek that sounded barely human, was barely human.

?Aaaaaaaaaaaaggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,? a brief intake of air and then the air all expended recklessly. ?AAAAAAggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.? 

Overloaded nerves finally discharged their last residual charges and Fianna`s head fell forward onto her chest in her first, but probably not her last faint. The patebellum was firmly settled into the slot reserved for it on the massively thick wooden upright. Fianna was half way to her final position.

?Is she dead??

Zardos looked in amusement at the speaker. The Master`s Factotum had finally worked up the nerve to come close to Fianna now that she was safely raised onto her cross.

?No, she`s not dead now and she won`t be until the end of these games,? he promised the Factotum. ?She has strong legs and a good chest. She`s good for three days, certainly.?

?The Master will be pleased.?

?I hope that he will be,? Zardos grunted. ?But still one thing left to do now. We need to nail her ankles so that she can give us a good dance over those days.?

Baz had retrieved his hammer. In spite of his lack of soul and slobbish eating habits, he was one of the best hammer men in the business. Jasper had taken a firm hold on her ankle and jerked it towards the correct position a few inches lower than her arse when she was at full stretch.

Zardos adjusted the position of the clumsily angled leg by a fraction and then slightly re-positioned the twelve incher nail closer to the heel. She had dainty feet for such a strapping great amazon and he should allow for that.

?Jasper, hold her hard now. Baz, hammer!?

The hammer struck. The nail slid through bone and into wood. Fianna`s eyes flew open and she screamed a scream that put her previous best clearly into the shade. Baz needed two more firm taps to seat the nail firmly and at each tap, Fianna roared her helpless objection. Now Fianna was pinioned by both arms and one foot. The second foot lashed out aimlessly but still dangerously.

?Stun rod, boss?? Jasper suggested.

?OK, I`ll do a stun rod. Short duration setting. Baz, be ready there for a quick hit. Get her pinned into wood at all and I won`t criticise you if you need another three or four taps from there.?  

The three prepared themselves for a well rehearsed routine.

Zardos stabbed the thrashing leg with a innocuous looking six inch long but brightly black and yellow stripped rod. The voluntary muscles of the foot ceased to be voluntary and relaxed into a floppy looseness that a yoga adept would admire.

Jasper seized her bare foot, pulling the whole leg into a position that matched the leg that had already been nailed.

Zardos dropped the striped rod and pressed one of the massive purpose designed foot nails against the heel of Fianna`s only free foot.

?Hammer!? he commanded and he felt the wind of the hammer pass a fraction of an inch away from his fingers to firmly smack the nail through limp flesh.

Seconds later, the stun charge wore off and Fianna gave a belated scream of agony,  then another and another as Baz completed the nailing. Fianna was well and truly crucified.

*

The shadow retreated towards a corner of the arena leaving the nailed gladiatrix exposed to the beating rays of the noon sun. Although the sun was broiling hot, Fianna still shivered from reaction to her nailing as she hung with all of her weight on her wrists, sobbing and moaning in short half-coherent sentences. ?Fuck it hurts. Hurts, hurts, hurts! Oh the pain. Fuck, it hurts so much!?

Those complaints used up the last of the air in her lungs and she gasped in a shallow pained breath. ?Can`t breathe,? she complained. ?Can`t breathe!?

Zardos turned to the Factotum. ?Watch now. Sometime in the next few minutes she will start her dance.?

As Zardos had predicted, Fianna forced her body painfully upwards on the agonising twin pivots of her nailed heels in a desperate search for air. The nail wounds in her heels flexed and gaped with her movement, her face contorted into a rictus of pain and her bloody buttocks slid up the red-slicked wood of the upright as she thrust her whipped crotch outwards in counterbalance.

?Nooooooooooo,? she cried, as she reached the agonised apogee of her desperate manouver, although the exact reason for her objection was unclear.

?Don`t waste that air, Fianna when it costs so greatly,? Zardos whispered advice to thin air before him. ?Fill your lungs while you can.?

The Master settled back in his chair to review his status screens.

The network had finally dropped the live feed but they were still taking recorded highlights at what would yesterday have been considered a very satisfactory bit rate.

Fianna`s slow suffocation was losing the less committed segment of the mob. Interest was down to thirty five percent, still enough to be comfortable but it was time to give them more energetic activity, time to bring on the third fight.

Who was it on next? Ah yes, the vicious young Catriona, an up and coming new girl on the block, against Misha, an experienced but now aging spear-girl who looked from here to be pushing out her curvaceous bare belly as a potential target. Was the cow pregnant again?

Perhaps we will spectacularly find out, he thought to himself with a smirk. Catriona seemed to have a passion for using her curved hand-blades to disembowel her opponents. It always looked spectacular and perhaps she would be worth another network broadcast bonus if she managed to get past Misha`s longer weapon, planted those wicked curved blades right in Misha`s belly and pulled out its contents.

*

Fianna`s eyes opened at the roaring acclamation of the crowd and she tried to blink aside sweat and tears to see what had stirred the mob to such rapturous applause. A small crumpled figure lay loose-limbed in the sand and Fianna unwillingly watched the approach of the victorious Catriona towards her cross. The new girl`s almost black irised eyes were aglow with the excitement of her most recent kill.

?Did you see Misha`s face, Fianna. Oh, the stupid cunnie thought that I was going to let go of her guts once she`d kissed my foot. Did you see that look of surprise when I pulled her whole intestine right out!?

Fianna was in no position to debate the matter. She had fought Misha herself once and had beaten her handily, but it had been a fair fight, hard enough that she had been allowed to grant mercy. Misha hadn`t deserved to be gutted solely to improve Catriona`s approval rating, but the crucified victim really had no energy left to sympathise further.

Catriona still felt the buzz of that kill. Her small bare nipples were still hard with the excitement that came with life or death power over another, and now instead of a push-over like Misha, she had the Master`s permission, almost command, to go and play with one of the arena`s ex-champions. No limit, except that if she died under Catriona`s ministrations then it would be Catriona`s own ass on the cross to complete the sentence.

What sort of stupid was Fianna, she wondered. She could have gone on for years yet, good food, the best gigolos. She might have lost Fauna, but a successful gladiatrix could so easily pick up more playthings like Fauna. And what about the buzz, surely someone as good as Fianna had been must have felt the buzz when she delivered death to a beaten foe. Well it was all over for her now. One stupid, stupid gesture and it all came to this. She halted at the foot of the cross. Fianna`s bloody, heavily whipped belly looked as if a loop of her gut was about to fall out. Catriona eased one of the blood-covered hand blades against the torn skin and gave it an experimental prod that drew a groan of pain from Fianna.

?Hi, Fianna, you don`t look very good at all. But it`s time to earn your keep. The Master says that I should see if I can make you beg like Misha did. He says that you’re getting boring just going up and down and wheezing like a rusty door. Oh, I wish that you and I were toe to toe on the sand and I could do this properly. I know that I could take you in a fair fight, but you`ve totally blown it, so I`ll just have to make do with playing you like a fiddle.?

?Fuck off, Cat.?

?I`ll fuck like a mink after a day like this,? Catriona laughed. ?But first, the Master wants some action from you. So can you feel this, you pathetic loser??

The little air that Fianna had managed to suck into her lungs hissed out in a single explosive retort as Catriona`s hand blades hooked upwards to rip at the delicate skin around her anus.

?Up and dance for me,? she commanded. ?lift it or lose it, Fianna. Up on your toes or you get a new arse hole.?

Unwillingly, with the greatest of difficulty, Fianna forced her battered body higher, until all of her weight was on her two shattered heels and still Catriona`s blades continued to penetrate her ass.

?Higher, Fianna. Stretch that body up higher, cunt.?

?I can`t go any further!? Fianna sobbed in frustration. Then unwillingly, with shallow panting breath and deep hurtful shame she added a desperate plea, ?Please, Catriona. I can`t get higher whatever you do. Please don`t stick your blades any further up me!?

?Try, `Please Mistress Catriona, your wretched slave Fianna begs for your divine mercy`.?

?Fuck you!? Fianna hissed, then her eyes widened with pain and she let out a long ulating scream as the blades bit into her helpless flesh and blood poured from her rear.

?Ohhhhh, shit, you bitch, Nooooo!?

?Oh, no, Catriona laughed excitedly. ?It`s you that`s going to be ass-fucked if you don`t ask very nicely for mercy. Fucked by a foot of sprung-steel blade!?

?Please Catriona, please don`t hurt me any more. I`m crucified and it fucking hurts and I`m going to die anyway. You don`t have to do this! Please don`t do it. Oh please.?

?No, I don`t have to, but I can, and there`s nothing that you can do to stop me hacking the ring out of your arse hole so that you die dribbling shit like some senile hundred year old git. So, this is your last chance. Beg now, or your ass is an open shit-highway.?

It was the thought of the shame of being left so ruined rather than the thought of the pain that finally broke Fianna.

?I beg for mercy. Mistress Catriona, I plead for your divine mercy! Please Mistress, don`t do that to me.?

?Nice,? Catriona smirked. ?But you missed the `wretched slave Fianna` bit, so I`ll have to cut half your arsehole away, anyway.?

?Please, your wretched slave Fianna begs! Ahhh! Noooooooo!?

?Too slow, too late, too bad!? Catriona was thoroughly enjoying her session. A pair of floating cameras were close to hand and she stood back allowing one to position itself for a clear shot as she flicked her hand with its deadly glove of hand blades up into the flesh between anus and vulva and clawed the blades in a cruel twisting circle that slashed right through the muscle ring that controlled Fianna`s bowels.

For a few seconds there was no spectacular effect, other than Fianna`s agonised scream, then dribbles of shit flecked Fianna`s leg and suddenly as if a dam had burst, a flood of semi-solid waste. Catriona held her hand theatrically over her nose.

?Oh, you stink, you disgusting filthy creature, and now you`ll never be able to stop yourself just dripping like a incontinent old git in a nursing home.?

Catriona saw the hand signal from the Master`s Factotum. Time to go, but this crowd would remember Catriona, would hopefully hit their approval buttons for Catriona next time that she fought here, and it did no harm that the Master owed her one for her efforts. Chose the right time and that could be worth more than a diamond collar.

?That dizzy stupid slag Fauna put you here you know,? she taunted. ?You could have cut the silly cunt`s throat on the first or second pass and gone home to the victor`s suite with another doxy just as good, and instead you`re nailed to a cross, shitting your bowels out, and it took me less than a minute before I had you begging for mercy, but there`ll never be mercy for you again. So goodbye loser.?

Reaching up with her hand blades she brought the innermost blade on the chain mail glove chopping down onto the tip of Fianna`s left nipple. The razor-sharp blade severed the tip of the little nubbin and Catriona neatly caught it in her free hand and turning to the cameras with a grin she popped it into her mouth and chewed away.

Fianna screamed again and then slumped down, the combination of partial asphyxia and pain seeming to have driven her into temporary unconsciousness. Catriona looked straight into the nearest camera lens.

?I am Catriona. I have four wins and four kills. You will see more of me. Look for me on the arena web. Follow me, it will be worth your while. Remember. It is Catriona.?

The Master smiled in his control booth. Not even Catriona`s blatant self-commercial could annoy him. Her performance had pulled in a ninety percent approval and two networks were actually competing for an exclusive on her vicious rimming attack on the hapless Fianna`s arse. That could become a little classic. The girl had promise. He wondered idly if she would be interested in a transfer to Assistant Torturer. Not as spectacular a career but as much blood and gore, all without the regular risk of death. He minuted the thought onto his e-diary. After the close today he would follow that thought up.

Zardos stepped closer to Fianna to assess the damage. The stink of shit was overwhelming but he knew that the secret was actually to breathe it deeply in, to saturate the taste and smell receptors so that they would stop responding. After a few seconds of nausea it appeared to be working at least well enough that he could concentrate on his job again.

The unconciousness did not bother him, Fianna`s colour was fine, she was adequately oxygenated and once she came out of the faint, her strong legs were undamaged and good for hundreds more cycles of the dance. She would probably be unconscious several more times before the end, but it would only be tomorrow when she would weaken enough that a cornu would be needed to keep her from asphyxiating.

No, his biggest worry was the effect of the copious shit on the bleeding gash that had been her anal ring. Shit that was full of bacteria and a jagged open wound were not a good combination. He could do little at the moment. If it looked as if he were trying to reverse or even ameliorate Catriona`s cruel damage then the mob would be all over him like a scarlet fever rash. He used his implant to book the arena paramedic for immediately after the evening close of this first day of the games. Local infection and damage would be survivable but they would have to guard against raging septicaemia with strong pre-emptive antibiotic treatment.

Fianna recovered her senses by stages, half drifting in a void of agony until finally, it was the lack of air and the need to force the voluntary muscles of leg and chest to co-operate in the dance that brought her back to full consciousness. Once she was teetering on the pivot of the nails through her ankles, the sheer agony of that pain paradoxically forbade the oblivion of a faint and she sucked in air for one, two, three sweet breathes before dropping back onto the alternative agony of her wrists.

Zardos gave a grunt of self-congratulation. As he had predicted, she was back on her dance, back on the long slow schedule of her death.

*

The sun had completed it`s long swing to the horizon and was nothing but a residual red glow against a high cirrus cloud that was still catching a few last rays from around the curve of the planet. The first day of the games had already been declared a sporting success by the aficionados of the games and a commercial success by sponsers and owners even as a last few cheap slave girls were dispatched by the massively expensive Earth-derived Tigers that had been reserved as the finale. The beasts were so expensive that they could not just be dispatched, hence their last place slot so that they could be carefully stunned and re-caged whilst the arena was emptying for the night.

Once the last Tiger had been captured and the last screaming half-eaten slut had been dispatched by the mallets of the Master`s thugs, Zardos met up with the paramedic and walked across to Fianna`s cross.

?Christos, what a stink,? the paramedic groaned. ?Can`t you just break her legs and finish her now that the mob have gone back to their stews. I have to have supper after this you know, have you no mercy for my stomach??

?The Master has PM`d me an update. Enough of the mob still remember that Fianna went against their will. The plebs don`t get to control very much. That makes them even touchier about the prerogatives that they do have. There`s still a sixty percent demand for at least one more day from her.?

?Well haven`t you got a mask for me at least??

The paramedic was of similar status to Zardos himself, so Zardos could afford to be sharp. ?Just do the cocking job that you`re paid to do and then you can get out of here. Otherwise, you can stand here sucking in her shit all night if you want.?

With a shake of his head to indicate how put-upon he was, the paramedic stepped gingerly forward and slapped an auto-syringe against one thigh. It discharged a mixture of potent anti-biotics straight through the skin and into the capillary bed of the thigh muscles.

Fianna`s head nodded slightly at the sensation, but the trivial pain of the injection scarcely registered in comparision to the escalating agony of nerves in heel and wrist being rubbed raw by hard-ridged steel nails. By this point in her journey, only a certain threshold level of pain could even penetrate her self-absorption.

?All that crud around her arse should be cleaned off, but I`m not paid enough to go there. Get one of the slaves to hose it down and when it`s as clean as they can get it then make `em rub lots of this anti-septic gel into the area. With that damage to her anal  sphincter, she`ll crap it up again in a few minutes, so I don`t think that we`ll ever prevent an infection there, but as long as the systemic anti-biotics are high enough then a local infection may be disgusting to look at, but she won`t die from it.?

?Baz, you`re good at grabbing slave ass. Get one of the sluts over here, I need her to help us clean Fianna up. Then I want you and Jasper to find the most comfortable sedile that we have. Find something that can hold her up without tearing her arsehole wider open.?

Baz had had stranger orders than these and took them in his stride. He gave a skinny little arena slave a push towards Zardos. She gave a single fearful glance at Fianna`s battered form and dropped to her knees in the sand at Zardos` feet.

?You commanded my presence, Master. How may slave Petunia serve her Master??

?Strip off that tunic and fold it up.?

The girl obeyed instantly, surreptitiously touching her crotch to check on its level of moistness. Her assumption was that her stripping was a prelude to being used for this Master`s pleasure. She hoped that oral might suffice, but she had better be ready for penetration at any orifice.

?Right, see that hose and liquid soap attachment? Turn it on and hose down that crucified slut. Pay special attention for her arse, I want it clean enough that you can kiss it. In fact that can be the test of your work, you will get her arse clean enough that you will kiss it. Then you can wash yourself down, get dressed again and get back to your duties.?

Petunia looked dubiously at Fianna`s unsavoury form. Mere casual sexual use might have been preferable to this job, but when a Master spoke, the only acceptable response was: `Yes, Master, at once, Master.`

?Yes, Master, at once, Master.?

The cold water lathered poorly, but the liquid soap was strong and once Petunia had mastered her nausea and disgust she began to use handfuls of lather to clean away the mixture of blood and shit from what was a hideously cruel wound. Fianna tried to writhe away from the pain, but the pinioned prisoner had nowhere to go and the cleansing continued without pause. Finally Petunia lowered her head and shyly touched her lips to the edge of the cruel wound.

?It is clean as you commanded, Master.?

Zardos gave the paramedic a shove and he in turn handed a long tube of anti-septic to Petunia.

?Squirt it all over the wound. Use as much as you can get to stick,? he commanded.

Baz and Jasper arranged the installation of a heavy wooden beam into a large slot in the upright of the cross. The inch wide edge of the wood offered a place for Fianna`s bottom to rest, although at the cost of permitting the polished wood to rub hard against her wounded ass.

?What`s we doin` boss? Baz asked uncertainly.

?I want her to get as good a night`s rest as possible. That sedile will let her take the weight off her wrists and she should be able to breathe without pushing up so hard in the dance. When the sun comes up, we whip the sedile off and lose it somewhere and she will have to dance again, but at least she`ll start fresh.?

?Is that like a cheat, boss??

?Yes, Baz. We`re cheating the Master`s whip up all our arses. Thanks to that mad-bitch Catriona, Fianna`s arse is like raw mince infected with sewage. She`d never last half of day two without a bit of help. This way, when the mob take their seats tomorrow, she will be nice and fresh for them. Just be down here with Jasper to hide that sedile before opening hour.?

?You got it, boss,? Baz replied.

*

Fianna tried futilely to prepare herself for the unendurable. A few minutes ago the support that had helped her to grab a few unsteady minutes of sleep had been unceremoniously removed and at this moment she was absorbing the agony of the nails through her wrists and preparing herself for the additional pain from her heels when she could finally generate the courage to push upwards in a quest for air.

The Kali priest Jasper waved an old used toilet sponge, damp with rinse water, before her face and she greedily lapped at the moist sponge, swallowing droplets of precious water regardless of the stench and colour of the sponge.

The sponge was a particularly clever trick he thought. The slut had to decide between cruel thirst or stomach churningly revolting water. Every option a bad one. The thirst of refusing water was even worse than the thirst when it was denied. The humiliation of drinking the washings of a toilet sponge was reinforced by the nauseating taste of the few drops of real moisture that was so hard won from its surface.

?Jasper, you are disgusting!?

Jasper almost jumped in shock at Zardos` commentary on his efforts.

?Only a bit of fun, Boss!?

?Well get rid of the shit sponge or I`ll make you eat it,? Zardos commanded. ?It`s bad enough that she stinks like a village midden without you bringing your used arse wipe out onto the field.?

The Master checked his games listings. He had added Catriona back into the day`s combats. It was rare for a fighter to appear more than once in any one games, but she had agreed to join the torturers guild and start that training at the end of these games and she had pleaded with the Master for an opportunity to earn her fifth win and the all important combat ace title. He had lined up a young novice who had been particularly uncooperative in his bed and she would go up against Catriona around noon.  

The first combat of the second day was about to begin. Scar looked over his shield at the wide-shouldered trident-carrying Negro who opposed him. Beyond his opponent was Fianna`s cross, her long lean body still moving in a slow but endless and agonising dance.

?Don`t get distracted,? he warned himself. He allowed a fantasy scenario to play in his head. He would stick it to the oiled black warrior, pick up the trident and fling it straight and true at the helpless dangling figure on the cross and it would sever her spine and she would be instantly dead.

?Like fuck I will,? he snapped. ?There are a lot less ridiculously painful ways to commit suicide.? Fianna had made her own bed. She would have to lay on it. He had his own problems. That Negro guy looked big and mean and fast and he twirled his net like he`d played before. ?If I get out of this alive, I`ll remember you in my tavern, like I promised, but, I`m sorry, but that`s all that you`ll get from me, Fianna.?

The sun beat down with fervent noon heat. Scar`s corpse was still cooling in the increasing pile of the slain. Catriona walked out onto the sand and flushed with pleasure at the roar of approval from the mob.

Her opponent looked like a captured schoolgirl. She knew the kid was nineteen from the programme, but she looked three years younger. Even smaller tits than Catriona`s own, although the little pink tips were down unlike Cat`s rock hard nipples. She also looked terrified. That was probably wise, Catriona smirked, given what was coming.

?I am Catriona. Four wins, four kills. I just need one more to go ace. Are you ready to die, loser-girl??

Her opponent gave a little nod of acknowledgement and even that gesture irritated Catriona. Her equals could do that, but what right did a novice have to give her that greeting. But then she heard the plumy accent that in Catriona`s own youth had always been the prerogative of the Aristos.

?My family are no more and I am just a slave now, so I have to fight you, gladiatrix, but it is purely professional and I wish you no ill will. If one of us must die, then it must be so, but if I prevail and am allowed to spare you then I will.?

?Well. I have to fight you too, you fuckin`asshole Aristo bitch,? Catriona deliberately let her voice return to its original street-fighter roots. ?but I also want to cut off that posh twangy voice and hear it screaming for mercy. So if I pre-vail, and I will, slag-face, then I will shove these blades right up your fuckin` twat!?

The taller Aristo girl’s face paled at the venom in Catriona`s voice and then fear was replaced by terror as Catriona glided catlike forward and the foot-long hand blades that were her favourite weapon flickered out. Catriona was the fastest gladiatrix in her entire stable. Only vast experience or heavily programmed automation could give an opponent a chance against her flickering skill. The Aristo girl had neither and within seconds of the first pass she knew that she was overmatched.

If Catriona had had an ounce of mercy in her whipcord frame then she would have felt sympathy for the Aristo girl who doggedly swallowed her fear and leapt to a hopeless attack. But if Catriona had had an ounce of mercy then she would not have been Catriona. The unfortunate and hopelessly outclassed Aristo ended the pass with three fingers and her sword missing from her right hand and the murderous hand blades buried exactly as promised in her crotch.

?I am beaten. Mercy, please mercy,? the Aristo girl sobbed. ?Oh, please get those out of me, you`re killing me!?

?Hey, Aristo-slut, that`s the idea. So if you want to live then bunny-hop over to that disgusting piece of refuse on the cross over there and kiss its ass. Hop nice and high now. Hop. Hop. Hop!?

The Master was delighted. Catriona was undoubtedly the find of the games. The mob loved the way that the writhing Aristo was being forced to bunny-hop across the sand, her tits slapping, blood dribbling between her legs from what must already be a hideously painful wound. Online, a Catriona fan club was collecting some of the sickest names in games blogging as founder members. Off-line in the physical arena itself, a chant was beginning in time with the Aristo girl`s pain filled hops. Cat! Cat! Cat! – hop, hop, hop.

?Hold the next start, five minutes,? the Master commanded, seeing his handlers halt the next pair of gladiators just inside the gate. ?Zardos, tell Catriona that she`s got five minutes to play with Fianna and,? he glanced at the games programme on one of his virtual screens, ? - and Apollonia. Tell her that there`s a little gift in it for her if she gets us another live feed.?

The network executives were already circling like sharks smelling blood. No-one had actually committed their networks cash yet, but Catriona was considered a hot prospect to follow. Even as he waited eagerly, one of them took the plunge and snapped up the entire five minute slot, sight unseen.

?Now, Cat, earn that bonus,? the Master willed her on.

Apollonia`s eyes were filmed with tears as each hop brought her crashing back onto the impaling blades buried in her crotch, but she had no choice but to obey her cruel captor if she had the slightest hope of living. Hop. Hop. Hop.

The last hop had brought her almost up alongside the crucified girl. Apollonia had never smelled anything quite as foul. She could not only smell but also almost taste the stench and she tried to pull back, but Catriona leaned close and bit down on her ear.

?A bit strong for your delicate fuckin` Aristo nose is it? Well you can bury that snooty Aristo face right in that shit and find her fuckin` clittie. I`ll let your face up when she comes!?

?I can`t,? Apollonia wailed.

?OK, then, I`ll just give you your own private hysterectomy instead! Five seconds, Aristo-cunt. Your choice!?

I`ll die first,?

?Probably, Four?

?Please!!!?

?Three.?

?All right, all right.?

Apollonia gagged as her little turned up nose touched some of the dried shit that was spattered all over the lower half of the crucified  victim, but her life depended on her forcing herself to do what she had never dreamed before. The taste on her tongue was too much and she pulled back sharply.

?Two,? an implacable voice whispered in her ear.

?I`ll do it!? she shrieked, squeezing her eyes shut and seeking the disgustingly flavoured clit of the helpless nailed victim.

Fianna groaned in pain as she shifted her weight on the swollen mass of suppurating wound that had once been her skilled warrior’s wrists. Deep below that torment and the raw pain of her sliced nipple and the throbbing       agony of her ruined anus was a contradictory sensation of pain and pleasure, a touch that she had not expected to feel again, a sensation that sent a shiver through her suffering body.

Apollonia lapped away like the experienced public school girl that she was. Her tongue was cleaning the target area and she could feel the little bundle of pleasure nerves harden under her tongue. The hateful voice of her tormentress came again in her ear.

?Very simple rules, Aristo-cunnie. If she comes, you live. If she doesn`t, I pull out your insides and slash them to pieces with my blades. You have sixty more seconds, so keep your head down and go!?                                                

?Strictly speaking, that was not Catriona`s decision, but the mob enthusiastically endorsed it. Apollonia worked her target like a demented whore on overtime and Fianna`s body rocked with a sensation that was something other than pure pain. Her belly shook and her eyes widened and the least expected orgasm of her life exploded through her body. Catriona dragged Apollonia`s head away from its target and at last slipped her cruel blades out from within the Aristo`s ruined sex.

Apollonia collapsed into a fetal comma, her hands clutched to her genitals, trying to hold in the ripped contents whilst blood flowed freely over her hands. Catriona flicked out one hand, exposing a hand blade that scythed through the air and viciously shaved the swollen clitoris and her external vulva lips completely free from Fianna`s body whilst it still shook to the impact of her last ever orgasm. The mob roared at the diabolical cruelty of their new darling and then their cheers redoubled as Catriona lifted the bloody mess high on the palm of one hand and then dropped it straight into her own upturned mouth like a gruesome oyster.

?I Am Cat. Five wins in five fights. Do you want it to be five kills??

She dropped to Apollonia`s side and put her hand blades under the sobbing helpless Aristo`s chin, addressing the invisible audience through a hovering tri-D camera.

?I am the Master`s slave but he in his turn is nothing but your servant. I await his command, but his command will be whatever you desire. Life or death. It is yours to grant or take. I am Cat and I am your tool to do as you wish!?

The Master flicked his pooling console onto high speed collect as votes poured in. Apollonia had lost the fight rather too rapidly for safety, but she was a novice and had gone full-tilt at a greatly superior opponent and then had been put through humiliating paces at the victor`s hands. Normally he would have expected a mercy vote, but Catriona had rather cruelly skewed the odds with her challenge to the mob to grant her a fifth kill.

The poll was a lot more even than he would have expected, swinging first to mercy, then death, then back once again. Then a block of votes from the Catriona fan club sent it teetering towards a fatal conclusion. He lifted his power staff to aim it at the board of fate and the cursor slid down to settle firmly on the straight sword symbol.

?Oh hard luck there, Aristo, ? Catriona grinned insincerely. ?Time to say bye bye!?

?You promised!? Apollonia cried in fear. ?You promised!?

?I promised not to disembowel you. But I am only the humble servant of the people. You see their will and I must obey. Anyway, five for five is something to retire on. Now do you have a god that you want to chat to or shall we get straight on with it??

?You are a bitch and I will curse you to hell with my dying breath!? Apollonia cried in distress. ?You always intended this, didn`t you??

?Got it in one, but too late as usual,? Catriona smirked as the curved blades of her gloved weapon tore Apollonia`s throat open, sending blood pouring from the half-severed neck. ?Not that I`m afraid of a loser`s curse, but it will be very difficult to curse at all when there`s no connection between your mouth and your throat.?

*

Zardos circled Fianna`s body, disturbed for the first time by the pallor of her skin. Catriona`s vicious handling had cost Fianna dearly. Once again she was unconscious, but now her state looked far more perilous, far less recoverable from than the last spell of unconsciousness.

?Baz, Jasper, get ready to lift her. We`re going to have to go to a cornu a bit quicker than I expected. I don`t think she`s got more than a few more hours left in her, even with that, but we won`t even get her to tonight`s close unless we cornu her now.?

Baz just grabbed a stained leg, the more fastidious Jasper was trying to hold her almost at arms length.

?Get a firmer grip, Jasper!? Zardos commanded. ?If you drop her because you`re too fussy to get a bit of shit on your chest then I`ll put your own scourge across your balls.?

Unwillingly, Jasper hugged a soiled leg closer to himself and heaved, the two of them taking much of Fianna`s weight so that she could suck in air for the first time without levering herself up on her cruelly nailed heels.

Zardos inserted the cornu in the wooden beam that held it in position and the beam locked into the same slot that had earlier held the sedile that had helped Fianna survive the first night. But this cornu was much less forgiving than the sedile.

Its evilly barbed point was immediately below Fianna`s ruined anus, but she had the cruel choice of writhing forward a fraction and allowing it to penetrate her vagina instead. The only choice not available was the choice not to ride the cornu at all. In her weakened state, her rubbery legs just could not hold her poised above the cornu and gradually, to the amusing accompaniment of a series of explosive hisses of air from her lungs she sank into self-impalement.

She had chosen, or had had randomly delivered, anal impalement in preference to vaginal. The cornu was twelve inches up her arse, nearly all of her body weight concentrated on that one point.

?Noooooooooooo,? she moaned. ?Ooooooooooooh, noooooooooooo.?

Zardos nodded to Baz and Jasper. At least she now had enough air to make that peculiar pleading noise. He hunched down and squeezed one of her toes, watching how quickly the blood flowed back into the whitened patch.

?You`ll do, Fianna,? he informed her, without much expectation that she would be in any state to listen. ?That should keep you viable until tonight`s close, but there`s not a Carnifax alive that could get you any further. Do you hear me Fianna. You`ll be out of here before morning, and that`s a fact, I promise.? 

*

The last of the crowd were making their raucous but currently good-tempered way from the stands, arena slaves were already in the seating areas collecting greasy food wrappings, rubbish, condoms and the occasional small coin.  Fianna shivered uncontrollably, flushed with a fever, the pain from her ruined ass bringing waves of nausea to her throat where the vicious curved horn of the cornu penetrated her ruined anus and was bedded deep in her bowels.

Voices were raised in argument at her feet and Fianna wearily opened one bleary eye. It was a pair of newly arrived male arena slaves pulling wide-headed rakes through the freshly distributed sand and they were talking about her. Fianna strained to hear. 

?I know that there`s no titulus, but it stands to reason, they don`t waste real fighters like that. Nah, she must be here `cos she was a coward. Did a runner rather than fight, perhaps.?

Fianna felt an unreasoning anger. She was being murdered by inches for love of her Fauna and these ignorant slaves couldn`t even get the details right. She tried to speak to correct them but nothing but an incoherent blubbering came out from her cracked dry lips. After several tries, she managed to slobber out the essential details in a voice so broken that it was almost inaudible and almost entirely incomprehensible.

?I am Fianna. Dying for love. Love of Fauna. Not a coward. Did what had to. Took the nails without flinching. Now dying for love.?

?Can you tell what she said?? the second asked his companion.

?Nah, The slut must be delirious.?

The second worker pushed his rake to the foot of the cross and recoiled abruptly. ?Oh, Jupiter, the smell. She`s soiled herself all down her legs and she stinks like a week old cess-pit!?

?See, there you are. What did I tell you,? the first pronounced. ?Soiled herself in fright, I `ll bet.?

Fianna let her head drop forward and tears welled in her eyes. Death was still many hours away, her body would go on a little longer yet, but her spirit had finally surrendered.