You caught your opponent's leg with your own, and with a sweeping motion, you threw them down upon the dirt. They futilely swiped at you, and you knocked their strike aside with your blade, their sword slipping from their grasp and falling in the dust. You gently pressed the point of your saber against your unfortunate foeman's neck, looking to the crowd seated in the arena. You then relented, your foe clearly defeated. Reaching a hand down you helped them up, giving them a consolatory pat on the back as the crowd simultaneously jeered at your beaten foe and cheered you for your victory. You then found yourself outside of the stadium, walking to the barracks which housed you and your fellow combatants. The opulent gilded carriages of the gentry awaited you, the affluent spectators waiting to glimpse their favorite gladiators. Among these noble men and women, a figure stood apart, a woman of specific splendor, and indulgent decadence. The woman approached you with graceful strides, she had long blonde hair that fell about her face in elegant waves, framing a face adorned with meticulously applied makeup, and her sharp blue eyes still held the glint of the excitement of the arena. Her attire was nothing less than a spectacle, a gaudy dress of bright red, with highlights in blue, and the whole thing embroidered with intricate gold and silver patterns, clinging to her plump, voluptuous figure, highlighting her generous bosom, her ample hips, and clinging ever so tightly to her soft waist that spoke to many a night's overindulgence. Every movement caused the numerous jewels she wore, in golden bands, silver necklaces, and dancing from platinum earrings, to glitter in the light, she bore a finger on every ringer, jingling bracelets upon her wrists, and an enormous necklace rested on the bare cleavage of her full chest. She stopped before you, her blue eyes examining you thoughtfully, calculating. A smile came to her red-painted lips. She spoke, her voice commanding and inviting. "I believe we have much to discuss..."