This is a short story that I've been fiddling with for a while. I find that the act of writing feeds back into drawing and visual art......it's a nice combo.

Chapter 1 - Pit Fighter

The wooden gates creaked open, flooding the tunnel with the cheers of the spectators and the stench of blood. Eight women stood there in the shadows, waiting silently. Two naked slavegirls ran past them into the pit. The mob continued to roar as they busied themselves. Moments later the slaves reappeared, dragging a woman's body out of the small ramshackle arena. Her head dangled lifelessly, blonde hair tangled chaotically over her bloody face. Her arms dragged limply along the ground. A tattered white loincloth barely covered her midsection. Her only armor was a studded arm guard, and a steel band around her forehead. Neither had offered protection from the gaping wound in her chest, still oozing crimson over her bare breasts.

Maya, champion of the Death-Pit, dead! The waiting gladiatrices were shocked. She had killed over forty opponents - and yet, was not invincible. If she could be slain, then what hope had anyone?

The victrix strode through the doorway from the pit. She was one of the new girls, Elena. Her short dark hair was closely cropped, her face expressionless. Her large breasts had been splashed red with Maya's blood. Cold blue eyes scanned the waiting women for their reactions. In her first fight she had killed the dominant gladiatrix. Fear, envy and admiration were in the eyes of her fellow slaves.

Kristina was sorry to see Maya killed. She had yearned to fight the Champion herself - to challenge for the title. There would be no quick path to glory. She was young though - maybe she still had time. She already had nineteen kills to her credit. The redhead wore a sturdy shoulder plate on her left side - a prize taken from its previous owner. The leather straps that held it in place bit into her flesh. The sensation was strangely comforting.

Kristina was loved by the crowds. She always gave them value for money. Only twenty, she had fought as a gladiatrix since the age of eighteen, and had survived longer than most. About her waist was a thick black belt with a ragged loincloth suspended from it. Like all the women in the pit, she wore a slave harness. A thick leather strap circled her torso beneath her breasts. A y-shaped thong ran from the strap between her breasts, looping around her neck and connecting again at the back. Suspended from the harness at front and back was a metal ring. It was from this ring that she would be hooked and dragged from the pit when she was killed.

Unlike most gladiatrices, Elena had accepted her fate. She avoided the silly late night fantasies of escape or freedom, and focused her mind on reality: that to live, she must kill - and that her death in the arena was inevitable. Hardening herself, she determined to die fearlessly - rising to greet the cold steel, impaling herself on her enemies blade.

She would show these bastards how to die!

"Jane and Hope! Next!" cried the trainer.

Hope, a dark haired beauty, and Jane, an attractive redhead, marched forth. They were bare breasted like the others. The duo waited patiently as the trainer gave them their weapons. Hope would wield a single large sword, Jane would use two small ones. Neither had a shield. Once armed they strode into the pit, footsteps squelching in blood saturated sand. The doors creaked shut, burying the room in darkness again. The women could hear the cheers of the crowd, the moment's pause as the gladiatrices saluted, and gave the ritual greeting:

"Hail! We who are about to die salute you!"

Kristina's heart pounded. She wished it was her out there. She was proud of her fighting skills, and eager to increase her tally. Pit fighters had to kill more than fifty opponents before the talent scouts would come. She had a long way to go.

Sharp metallic clangs echoed in the small chamber. The mob shrieked and howled as Hope and Jane assaulted one another. Both were well matched in ability and beauty. The spectators signalled their enjoyment by stamping their feet on the floorboards above Kristina's head. Suddenly a cry of "Oooooh!!!" Then a shriek. One of the amazons had fallen. The mob began a new chant.

"Kill! Kill! Kill!"

Through it all Kristina could hear the gasps and cries of the loser - and the heavy breaths of her companions in the gloomy tunnel, desperately trying to control their fear.

Finally the mob fell silent. A brutal thunk brought the screams to a sudden end. The mob erupted in joy. The women held their breath as the door opened. The slaves hurried past to hook the body and drag it clear. The slaves grunted as they hooked the dead warrior and heaved her inside. Jane had been decapitated. Kristina watched the spectacle with a mixture of horror and fascination. Hope entered with her grisly trophy. The younger gladiatrices stared at it, horrified. The eyes were wide open in shock, as though in death Jane could still not believe what had happened to her.

The trainer nodded in approval. "Good. Zanye..." she turned to one of the slavegirls, "place Jane's skull on the spikes in front of the gate. Might attract some new customers." Even in death the vanquished would serve their masters.

Two more were ordered into the arena, and the doors closed. Once more the sounds drifted into the waiting warriors. Once again the death cry. Once again the slaves passed with the slain gladiatrix on a hook. Dark shoulder-length curls, a soft feminine body. Kristina found herself wondering how such a lovely creature could have ended her days in squalor as a pit fighter.

There were only four women left the chamber. Kristina's heart beat hard and fast in anticipation. Soon it would be time!

"Next! Andrea and Charlene!"

Andrea was Kristina's new cellmate. She nodded at her as she went past. A spirited woman, Kristina had taken a liking to her.

The two brunettes took their weapons and marched into the pit. The doors closed. Kristina was alone with her opponent. A new girl, blonde and fit. Kristina hadn't seen her fight before. She looked little more than eighteen.

"Your first time?" Kristina asked. The girl stared at her wide eyed.

"Y...Yes." she stammered.

"This is the hardest part. The waiting." Kristina said calmly. She felt sorry for the young woman, then stopped herself. Empathy might lead to weakness, and weakness to defeat. Many a veteran had been killed by a trembling virgin.

"They say that you have killed many women."

"Nineteen...if you think that's a lot."

The girl sagged.

"If I kill you, it will be quick." Kristina said flatly. The blonde was trembling. "Put up a good fight and show no fear."

The girl nodded. "What is the best way...?" she asked.

"In the chest. Through the heart, like Maya. Here." Kristina replied, placing her finger on her left breast. "I've seen women die in seconds that way. That's how I want it when my time comes...in case you get lucky out there."

The girl's attempt at a smile failed. Her expression darkened as reality set in.

"If you lose, don't struggle." Kristina said. "Stick out your chest and try to hold still. My blade will kill you quicker if it finds your heart." The girl bit her lower lip and nodded mutely. Kristina began to wonder if the girl's fear was a pretence to lull her into a false sense of security - such treachery was not unknown in the merciless arena.

The doors thudded under the impact of one of the fighters. Her dying scream echoed clearly in the small tunnel. The new girl flinched, but Kristina smiled. "Another gladiatrix stands before the Goddess tonight!"

When the doors opened, the dead woman slumped into the chamber face first, her head hitting the ground hard. Her bare back and buttocks were slick with sweat and blood. It was Charlene. She had taken a blade in the back. Kristina wondered how she had managed to take a fatal thrust in such an unusual place. The slaves didn't bother to hook her. They simply grabbed her arms and dragged her into the shadows. Andrea entered once the passage was clear.

"Well done." Kristina said, gesturing to the slain fighter. Andrea smirked. "Ha! Wait 'til you're finished with your tadpole here." The blonde girl turned red at the insult. "I'll tell you all about it later!" she laughed, as she went back to her cell.

The trainer, a fearsome blonde named Sonja, appeared. "Alright you sluts. It's time!" Kristina was given her weapons: a small round shield, and a short curved sword. They seemed deceptively puny in her hands. The blonde girl tried not to stare at the redhead's weapon, avoiding thoughts of the sharp blade driving hard into her breast. The trainer gave her a ball and chain, and a small dagger - an unusual combination. She almost dared to hope that she might batter Kristina to pieces with it.

As they stood in the doorway Kristina turned to her. "What's your name?" she asked.

"Tanara" she answered.

Kristina put a hand on her shoulder. "Fight well today Tanara, for I will kill you."

Tanara was stunned by the wall of noise that greeted her when she stepped into the pit. She stood alongside Kristina, almost naked, their oiled bodies glistening. The arena floor was only about twenty or thirty feet wide, barely enough for two women. The entire structure was made of wood. It was under a canvas roof to protect from the brutal climate. Strangely shaped lamps illuminated the pit area, filling the stadium with unfamiliar odors.

She noticed the sand. It was not the dry yellow sand that she had seen on the beach. It was almost pink, and squelched damply when she stood on it. It was saturated with the blood of all the gladiatrices slain that night. The moment seemed to last for an eternity. They turned to face each section of the stands. The mob liked a full view of the women before the fight started. They would be sized up, and bets placed. Tanara wondered if many would bet on her, and what odds they would be offered.

She became aware of her own nudity as she noticed the leering faces in the stands. They were eyeing her up like a piece of meat. Most of the spectators were women, of course, but there were several wealthy men there also, ravishing her with their eyes. The women stared at her with a cold hatred that chilled her to the bone. The stupid lust of the men was far preferable to the contempt of the females. They would all delight in her death, but the women would relish it.

She noticed bets being placed on the fight. How many she wondered, were being placed on her?

From deep within, she felt a strange passion surging through her veins. She wanted the fight to start, to prove to herself that she could fight like the others.

Kristina straightened up. She raised her sword. Tanara followed her lead. They gave the salute.

"Hail! We who are about to die salute you!"

The mob roared. They never seemed to tire of the ancient ritual. The women moved apart and squared off. Kristina sensed the young girl's sudden burst of confidence. If Tanara attacked without fear, she might yet get lucky. The ball and chain was a difficult weapon to defend against.

Kristina made the first move, lunging at Tanara with a deft thrust. Tanara swung the spinning ball to deflect the blade, and Kristina pulled it back just in time.

The mob shrieked as battle was joined.

Kristina heard familiar voices in the crowd. The same calls for her to "Finish the bitch!" and "Cut her open!" echoed through the pit. They said the same things every time she fought.

Tanara spun the ball furiously. If it managed to make a good contact with Kristina's sword, it could rip it right out of her hands. A direct blow to her shield could shatter bones. The two women circled one another warily.

Tanara made her first strike. She lunged at Kristina's shield arm. The ball made a glancing contact in the center of the shield, numbing the redhead's arm.

She fell back in pain. Her teeth flashed in the torchlight. Tanara's heart soared as she saw her opponent falter. She paused for a moment, unsure of whether to press her advantage. The delay gave the veteran time to recover from her surprise. She felt pride for the young woman...she was fighting with courage.

Kristina's left arm hung lower than before the blow. She led with her sword now, hoping that her wounded arm would recover. The shock of the ball was slowly beginning to fade. Tanara had the ball behind her now, spinning again. Another hit like the first, and victory would be hers! As she brought her right arm about, Kristina did not raise her shield to meet it. Instead she rolled as the ball came at her head, spilling onto the damp sand of the arena and coming to at Tanara's left, ignoring the pain in her shield arm.

The mob erupted in amazement at the perfectly timed move. Had Kristina been an instant slower, she would be lying on the ground vanquished, awaiting the final blow.

As it was, she was poised to make a deadly strike on Tanara. Her sword flashed in the dimly lit arena, and caught the blonde in the thigh.

Roars of lusty approval from the spectators filled the air.

Tanara gasped. The pain had yet to register, but she couldn't know whether the wound was deep or not. She lashed out desperately at the lunging brunette, forcing her back for a moment. Kristina had no desire to be struck again. Tanara's heart was pounding hard now, her blood pumping faster and hotter than ever before. She swung the ball and chain again, desperately trying to fend off the expert gladiatrix now seeking her life.

The blood flowing down her leg was hot, so hot. She could smell it in the confined arena. Once again, she began imagine the sensation of the blade sliding through her breasts, between her ribs...

"Come on Kristina! Get it over with!" screamed a woman in the stands above. Tanara felt a flash of contempt for the female. It was a pity that the bitch wasn't down here with them.

Kristina moved in. Tanara swung the ball again, but with less strength than before. She was tiring, and the loss of blood was having an effect. Kristina lunged again. Tanara was surely beaten now, Kristina was sure. She wanted to give the girl a clean kill, but the accursed ball and chain made it difficult to get close and accurate. She probed the girl's defenses, and was met each time with a potentially fatal swing of the studded ball.

Kristina waited for one untidy swish, and made her move. As the ball arced toward her, she brought up her shield. Her arm was now fully recovered. This time her shield caught the ball at a shallow angle. She swung her left arm wide, casting the ball out of Tanara's hands. It flung into the wall of the arena well out of reach. The spectators shrieked with joy.

Tanara looked up to see Kristina's sword pointing at her neck. She dropped the knife in her left hand.

"Get on your knees." Kristina said. Tanara obeyed. The mob were screaming for death, their bloodlust in full flow. Tanara stuck out her chest, accentuating her perfectly shaped breasts. Kristina could kill her any way she chose. Tanara was gasping desperately now, trying to hold herself together for a few final moments. The sight of the lecherous faces in the stands was almost too much to bear. Then she felt her opponent's hand cup the back of her head, holding her in place.

"Don't look at them. Look at me." said Kristina. Tanara looked into her face.

"You have fought well, Tanara. I will not forget you." Kristina said, as she drove her sword cleanly into the vanquished amazon's chest.

Tanara arched her back as the fire shot through her body. She grabbed Kristina's thighs with her hands, desperate to avoid sinking to the sand. The agony was worse than she could have imagined. She felt Kristina's hand grasp her hair hard, saving her from falling. She felt the spouts of blood erupt into her mouth, and burst from her heart and splash all over her face and chest. Each eruption brought a separate cheer from the mob. With each tortured beat of her severed heart, the torment faded, faded, and it seemed that she was falling into a bottomless black ocean - deeper, deeper...a voice, faint now:

"Good girl. You fought bravely."

She was dimly aware of the blade being pulled from her chest. She seemed to be falling now, backwards. She couldn't be sure. Then a dull thump as she hit the damp sand. And a final sound - waves breaking on the shoreline - or was it a crowd cheering? Tanara was dead when Kristina placed her foot between her breasts and saluted the crowd. The victrix was relieved. The girl had died like a true gladiatrix. Many were already filtering out the back of the stands to rush home, or to brothels - the vision of the night's butchery still fresh in their memories.

The doors opened. The sweating slavegirls ran out and placed Tanara on the hook. They hoisted her over their shoulders and lugged her through the doorway. Kristina gave one final salute, and followed them into the shadows.

Tanara brought her total of kills to twenty.

She was keen to hear Andrea's account of her fight with Charlene - and then to get some sleep. There would be more fights tomorrow...and she was hungry for glory.