Wet Gladiator: A Historical Lesbian Watersports Story

The rules of wet gladiator school are simple. Two women in the arena, first to pee loses. It's my first bout but how will I cope when my opponent decides to use my own sexual desire for her to tease me into losing control?

A 4,000 word erotic story featuring lesbian sex, desperation, golden showers, lesbian watersports, oral, anal and ancient Rome.

An excerpt:
“Training for what?” I asked, running to catch up with her, the rope used to bind my hands dragging in the dirt behind me.
“To become a wet gladiator of course.”
I stopped dead. So this was where I’d ended up. Fortune may not have smiled on me but the trickster gods had certainly begun a game with me as the main playing piece. The wet gladiators were legendary in the city. Always masked, always female, they performed in the arena once a week for a paying crowd of thousands. Battles normally consisted of two warriors at the height of their powers. Each would drink half a congius of weak wine before the tournament began and then they would emerge in front of the masses. The aim was simple, make your opponent wet themselves. Once a victor had been decided, the winner was entitled to use the loser in any way they saw fit. Could I possibly be about to become one of the legendary wet gladiators?
I began walking again, following Porcia into the training house. Inside women were ranged about the hall, each of them looking desperate for the toilet. Some were in togas, others in bikinis and some were completely naked. My eyes widened at the sight of so much female flesh on display. I’d never been interested in the nude female form before but something about this bunch of heroines was making my pussy tingle in a way it never had before.
I was taken to the initiates training room and found myself amongst a group of nervous looking women around the same age as me. Empty amphorae were scattered on the straw at our feet as the trainer paced the room offering advice.