Beat the Gladiatrix 1
Story by TikTikKobold on SoFurry
In a post-apocalyptic future, a new utopia has been made--one where women are taught the art of swordplay in order to fight a series of fatal duels against a rival kingdom run by Amazonian warriors. So ingrained is this ritualistic warfare in society that television broadcasts the duels in a spectacle called the Beat the Gladiatrix show.
Annabelle is an up-and-coming student in the premiere college for sword fighters, and her dream is to surpass her teacher, a former champion with many kills to her record. But Annabelle isn't the only one who is a rising star, for there is Titianna, the gladiatrix who has won multiple battles, killing the best that the world has to offer.
This was originally a commission series that I did long ago. I've revised some parts of it, but it is still an extreme snuff piece. There's a lot of nasty stuff in here, so if you do not like racism or snuff, don't read.
Annabelle’s heels click along the tiles of the hallway. In her hand, the pretty blonde college student carries her books on historical warfare and weapons, a perfect example of a star student. As all the students at the school stand taller than her. At only five feet tall, she has the distinction of being shorter than even their gym teacher, Miss Prim.
As she is the first member of the class to arrive at the locker room, Annabelle silently strips herself down, her lithe body perfect for the athlete that she is. After slipping on her short white training skirt and tight white training top, she finishes off by tying her long blond hair into a ponytail.
Other students fill in at this time, gossiping as they walk past her about the class ahead. The girl whose locker is next to Annabelle’s slides up next to her and whispers. “Hey, did you hear? They said they saw Miss Prim talking to Tatiana this morning.”
Annabelle stops with her headband and looks to her classmate, her sharp, piercing blue eyes scrutinizing her gaze. “Is that so?”
“Yeah. And you remember how she said she would have a special treat for us in the coming weeks. I think this is it!”
“Tatiana…” Annabelle says, resting her hands on her knees. “She’s that up-and-comer, isn’t she?”
“Yep. She eliminated a few of the contestants in a few upsets last month, but of course you know that.”
She shrugs and stands up. “I don’t really watch the show,” she says.
“Whaaat!?”
Annabelle raises an eyebrow. Her friend clasps her hands over her mouth, glancing around the locker room before she lets go and whispers. “But it’s basically the be-all-and-end-all of anyone in the sport.”
“Perhaps,” Annabelle says. “But, by the time any of us are on it, the techniques will be all but useless. I much prefer learning directly from the 100-time challenger and from history’s greatest.” She clasps her knees and stands up, clenching her fists. “Come on. If Miss Prim has a surprise for us, we’d better not keep her waiting.
“Heck yeah, we don’t!” she says, pumping her fist.
The class, now fully dressed in their gym clothes, file into the gymnasium and make their way to their squad lines. Annabelle is front and center, and stands tall with her hands behind her back. From the gym coach’s office steps a small slim woman in her late twenties, only a few inches taller than Annabelle herself. Like Annabelle, she has her blonde hair tied in a ponytail. Oftentimes in the hall, students would mistake Coach Prim for one of their own, but they would surely end up regretting calling her young. Though she’s only worked here for 2 years, she got the job from her credentials, as evidenced by the wall of silver trophies that sits on a shelf behind her when she instructs. Each of them has a swatch of ‘carpet’ that she earned sewn into them, to show the challenges she has overcome, and the opponents she has faced.
She scans over the class, strolling along behind them and checking out their posture before she heads to the back and calls them to turn.
Each girl spins around, Annabelle the fastest, but another, who is now front and center, gasps as she sees the point of her teacher’s rapier right in front of her nose.
“You must be ready,” Miss Prim begins, sheathing the blade. Where she picked it up is any students’ guess. “In battle, your opponent will not stick to the rules of decorum. In fact, those rules are to be learned so that you may ignore them.”
As she speaks, the door opens up, and two more people step in. Murmurs emerge from some of the girls as they recognize the silver-haired matron, and elderly lady in her late sixties, who leads the other woman into the room.
“Miss Jones,” Miss Prim says, turning on her heel and giving the Headmistress a bow. “I wasn’t expecting you this period.”
“Oh, but Miss Prim, with the surprise you have in store for our girls? How could I miss it? After all, I am showing Miss Smith around our school. Might as well show her our most valued teacher, as well.”
“The new Governness? Of course. It is an honor to meet you,” she says, bowing to the middle aged woman before her, a smartly lady with her blonde hair tied into a bun on top of her head.
“Well, then, don’t let us keep you from teaching your class. We’ll be right here, watching.” They say this and sit down. At this point, the students, who had been completely silent and watching to the Headmistress for orders, turn their attention back to Miss Prim, who now walks back through the aisle and looks down and over to her star student with a nod of recognition. She pulls her whistle out and blows on it, sending a signal out.
At first, all is quiet. The girls don’t know quite what to expect. But then, the sound of heels clicking down the hall brings dread to most of them. To Annabelle, however, her heart pumps in excitement, her fists clenching and ready.
When the door slams open, there stands a towering figure. With skin bronzed from her experience outside, the dark haired woman, nude entirely save for her black high-heeled shoes, makes a scary presence in the building. The naked brunette snorts and clicks on over next to the teacher, her tall, muscled body moving like a perfect predator as she keeps an eye on the girls, the scowl on her face accentuating her cheekbones.
With long dark hair, the gladiatrix is in her mid-twenties, and has the strong, hard-bodied physique of a fitness model. Her breasts are round and very firm, her stomach tight and flat. Her hips dip into a chiseled V, accented by her athletic thighs that could crush a girl’s skull, and capping off her fearsome appearance is the defining defiant factor that shows of each and every one of her kind. A thick bush of pubic hair protrudes defiantly from her crotch, ungroomed and untamed. She stands with her legs spread wide to show off the entirety of her ferocious appearance, her hands upon her hips, her contempt clear on her face.