‘How’d you know that’s what I was about to ask?’ Her blue eyes bored into mine as her palm swirled the knob of my penis, squeezing out a bead...of thick, lubricating fluid. ‘Because we both know you’ve been tiptoeing around asking it for the last several Mondays, and we both know you’re a bad boy for doing it, no matter how sweetly and innocently you finally managed to put it.’ Her smile kept me from being too speared by that. She was right. All summer, ever since she’d slipped and said more. I began to wonder if Commodus was testing me for some reason, though I couldn't figure out what that could be. There was always the possibility that Commodus was a royal SOB, and he just liked to see somebody die. My history books leaned very heavily on that motivation. After all, Commodus was assassinated, and by a gladiator, at that.Anyway, I prepared as much as I could for the match, and that included switching to a home-modified shield. It still looked like a standard scutum, but I had done. More

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