Spurtacus is a who-dunnit meets Swords and S(c)andals, with plenty of naughty bits of course in about 7 (or more) acts. Think Bridgerton meets Spartacus with twice the amount of raunch and some other bonus cleverdicking for the people who manage to pick up on it.

Last time in Spurtacus we've seen that the Empress Messalina was exhorting a room full of Roman Matronae for having had relations with Spurtacus, the legendary slave gladiator with many claims to his name.

In this act we actually find out who Spurtacus is.. . read on.

Spurtacus

Act II

Lucius Valerius Felix breathed a sigh of relief as his brothers in arms had moved the matronae to the adjoining vestibule. No one had suffered the wrath of the Empress.. yet. He never imagined she’d get involved herself on such a personal level. To handle scandal in such a way, instead of simply washing her hands of it, by handing it off to the magistrates, was new and more importantly dangerous for the matronae. And him self. Cause Spurtacus, was of course a fiction of his own mind.

He was a Roman citizen, well off, but nothing special compared to these matrones. He didn’t want to push his luck and advertise to anyone and everyone that he’d been screwing married and more over respectable matronae of well-connected houses. It wasn’t like it was his fault that they flocked to him. He wasn’t built like some kind of freak of nature, that they’d put on display at the Circus, next to a horse or a mule. He was normal. It was just that he managed to get those sex-starved women off by pleasuring them, by simply spending time with them.

Bathing them in attention. And saliva. And OK, he had to admit, perhaps copious amounts of semen. But not from across the room. He just got off especially hard when he saw the adulation in their eyes. It made his own orgasms more intense and well, he spurted instead of dribbled then. The matronae then had embellished it into shooting across bars, the next one made it across the room. In due time, he was likely to be capable of slaying Germanic invaders from forty paces, across the arena of the gladiator pits.

Lucius grinned. The image was so silly. When Titus saw him grinning, he raised his eyebrow as to inquire to his reason to mirth. It was indeed a bit weird to see him grinning like that, in a room full of scared women. Lucius managed to wipe the grin of his face and shrugged his shoulders to Titus, signalling that it was of no consequence and not connected to the situation at hand. He had to be more careful.

A minor slip up would be the end of him. The matronae would of course be protected, they were heads of families. If anything they’d get a stern speaking to. Lucius’ fate would probably be to be sent to either the African sweltering heat or to drown by increments on those infernal British Isles in their shroud of forever mist and rain. So either way he’d die at the front lines battling screaming barbarians in either sweltering heat or probably rust would marr his armour in exactly that spot where those evil Britons would manage to shoot him with their infernal bows.

He’d accompanied the Emperor during his visit to the British Isles. He’d seen men being eaten, not in a good way, by the forests. They didn’t chew and spit them out. No trace remained. A shudder went down his spine. He didn’t want to die.

He didn’t want to stop either. Tonight’s conquest was totally unaware she was in the same room as her prospective lover. Valeriana of the house of Cassia. She was lovely to look at. And had trembled ever so slightly when they had met last time, when he hadn’t touched her. She’d touched him, or rather, moved a trembling finger over his oiled shoulder. She couldn’t resist surreptitiously inhaling deeply when she was closer to him. And the shudder she tried to suppress had been visible for both himself and more importantly her ancilla who would of course never leave her domina’s side, especially near such a slave gladiator like Spurtacus was supposed to be.

He wanted to make her shudder again. Tonight. When they’d meet again. He’d left her in an unfulfilled state. Meeting tonight a week later, would have caused her anticipation and anxiety build to such levels that any touch would melt her. And her returning despite having had time to re-think things and follies, made it all the more enticing for him. And her.

He wondered if he should let a slave boy messenger drop off an anonymous cryptic message at her house, adressed to her from her aunt Licinia. As he was composing the message in his head, the doors behind Titus and him opened and the Empress beckoned him inside. When Titus wanted to follow, she stopped him. He was dead. He just knew it. She must have figured it out.. ..

Continued in Act III