(Sorry about the last paragraph of Pt.1-- disregard it. Let's get back into the story!)

Heroditus, having relieved the two boyish, ogling guards, sat on the ledge of the wall surveying today's slave bitch team. No wonder the guards didn't want to leave. Today's group actually looked. . attractive. This was a novel feeling for him. Heroditus has never before had time in his duties to sit still and watch women work. And these women were very desirable. Their long, lean, powerful bodies grunted and groaned with their work, turning the wheel. Their wide, angry eyes stood out very much from their dark skin, and almost glowed down in the darkness of the pit, as did their teeth when they bared them like fangs at this amused Roman officer. Indeed, they seemed to almost hiss at him. The pit was a very dark place. Not a place Heroditus would want to be right now, with these potentially violent women. After a short while, he drifted from his thoughts of his last battle to notice the women had slowed their speed, and were almost at a crawl. Interesting, though, they never took their eyes off of him. As though they were watching to see what he would do. As though they were daring him to do something. A sudden chill ran up his neck-- something new he'd never felt before-- even in the deadliest of warfare. Heroditus quickly gathered himself and shouted rudely at the women, cursing them with threats if they didn't pick up the pace. They instead slowed to a stop . . and even had the cheek to smile at him. "What the h---. Get back to work, you DAMN WHORESLAVE BITCHES!!!" They didn't budge. They merely leaned on the large wooden beams to give further emphasis that work was not going to be done. Heroditus strode menacingly to the wall and took down the most wicked of whips. He proudly cursed as the whip cracked, and 3 of the closest amazons below him ducked. One yelped-- the whip had found its mark. Slowly, the wheel began to turn, all 30 women their eyes viciously on him. All 30. . beautiful . . women. Heroditus had a suddenly uncharacteristic sexual thought-- "Have I been blind? Each of these women are . . actually. . stunning to look upon! Where the hell have I--" His thoughts were quickly scattered as his brain told him he'd been pulled off balance. Evidently one of these slave bitches had somehow snagged his rope and he was being yanked sideways awkwardly over the wall. From the way he'd been sitting he had left himself unsupported against a sudden pull from the pit. Stupid! All these thoughts raced through his mind as he fell headlong into the darkened pit! "Balance, I've got to regain balance!! Damn! This mud-- ARR-HULP--" was all a badly rattled Heroditus was able to mutter before the frenzied onslaught began. The very second his powerful, uniformed, chiseled body fell hit the soft, black ground on the pit, 30 angry, beautiful women found an outlet for years of bottled hatred. They now forgot themselves and their limited human strength, and adrenaline coursed through their bronzed, muscular but feminine bodies, enabling them to finally have revenge. Those closest to him gripped the beams and kicked both feet like sledgehammers into Heroditus. He didn't have a chance. The indomitable Centurion was hammered mercilessly from all directions by 6 angry, beautiful feet. They kicked till he fell, and then they stomped-- pounding him with strong, powerful heels that wanted nothing more than to crush and destroy. The 3 closest to Heroditus were yelling heartily as they kicked and stomped, and they were doing the most amount of damage. Four or so others could reach him barely with their feet, and only managed to scratch at his face and upper body with their sharp toenails. Slowly, the wheel began to turn, faster and faster. As it turned, Heroditus knew he had no chance of regaining control-- over them or his fate. For the first time in his life, he knew Fear. He tumbled and rolled dumbly as the beams passed over him and each row of women had their turns at him. In the darkness, the women strained to see the immediate target of their hate, and only knew to stomp and kick where those strapped to the beam ahead of them seemed to have found the fallen hero. Some stumbled over him. Others just stomped down hard into the mud with their heels the whole turn of the wheel until their feet eventually found their mark. How satisfying to stomp down only to feel warm, gritty flesh helping soften the blow as you feel bone being crushed beneath you. Most of the women stomped and pushed, stomped and pushed. Across the room low, sultry, feminine voices excitedly seethed "Got him!" "Oh, I think I got some face!!" "Whoever's behind me, his privates are exposed and I just nailed him!" "Yessss-- I just cracked something!!" A couple of the women got the wild idea to hang from the bars full-weight, bend their knees, and swing their legs violently, trying to kick him with the balls of their feet if that scum guard ever came into their paths. One such slave bitch--Belinca-- found success. Good for her. She was the smaller one who always got bullied and cowed by the others. She was the smallest, but she had pretty, slender, delicate feet (size 7 and a half--much smaller than the others), and the sharpest nails. Many a co-slave had been slashed by her razor-toes at one time or another. It happened just after the woman in front of her growled "He's on his side--facefirst-- make it good!" Belinca swung as blindly as before, but this time her right big toe found a soft socket. Instantaneously realizing it to be an eye, she was momentarily repulsed, but then groped hungrily with both sets of her long, spidery toes till she caught a cord and pulled it. Beneath her, the huge man screamed. Belinca yelled "One eye left! Next time around, it's mine!" Soon both guards returned, newly charged from their fighting. They mounted the steps to the observational part of the granary wall. Immediately the women fell silent, but they pushed and stomped through the mud-- and on Heroditus-- harder than ever before. The sight the guards saw bewildered them. Here were these tall, powerful women, silently pushing the wheel faster than they'd ever seen before. No sign of Heroditus anywhere, but the women were now smiling. From ear to ear. They must have a secret. They'd been beautiful before, but now they looked absolutely stunning. They looked almost approachable. It made you want to climb down there in the pit with them. MMmmm. "Let's cast lots to see who gets to unstrap them," the more eager guard whispered. Down underneath, Heroditus didn't hear the guards or the gritty grinding of the heavy stone. Partly dismembered, blind, badly maimed, bruised, and bleeding, he slipped into a deep, dark sleep while the beautiful, angry heels continued to crush into the mud what once was living, breathing, and . . arrogant . . flesh.

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