The Gladiator

The stillness of the night is interrupted by the sound of a single pair of booted feet upon the worn stones of the corridor. Maximus sits in his cell wondering at life and the circumstances that put him here, slave, and gladiator in the empires greatest city. Once a Free citizen with lands and a title, one of the most powerful generals in the Legion, now forced to fight for his life or bleed to death on the sands, laughed at by those who come for the sport. “It shall never happen,” Maximus, vows to himself. The booted feet draw near, at least this is different.

A guard appears at the cell door “You, move over to the wall!” the guard orders. The guard opens the gate and drops chains to the floor. He then backs out and re locks the gate. “Put those on I shall be right back”. Maximus goes to the pile and picks out the shackles; he notices that they are single metal cuffs at either end of twenty feet of chain. Maximus Pauses in thought, it means he has a visitor. He secures the cuffs into place and the guard returns, opens the door, and with a small hammer bangs the pin into place.

Maximus gathers up the chain in his arms and walks out the cell door. He doesn’t try to fight or run, the coliseum is far to well guarded and he bears the guard no malice, he is just doing his job. After quite a walk Maximus is ushered into a large room. The guard opens a shackle on the wall and places the center of the chain inside it before securing it. Maximus is confined to the space ten feet from that shackle, if the chains are pulled taut, his back to the wall.

Maximus looks around and sees two brass braziers in the corners, flames leap and dance upon them providing the soft ruddy bronze light. There is a large wooden x to which one may be shackled and beaten. Sometimes the rich like to purchase a Gladiator and beat them to death to feel more powerful, Maximus worries not, his value is far to high after winning his match today to be used in such a fashion.

The scent of lilacs interrupts his thoughts. He looks up just in time to witness beauty slip into the room. A woman, middle aged but of uncommon beauty stands in the doorway. She wears the finest of cloth and has scented skin denoting great wealth. Maximus continues to sit against the wall. “Do you know who I am Slave?” she barks out imperiously. Maximus looks her dead in the eye, then looks away unconcerned. Unperturbed she continues, “I am Helen, wife to Senator Claudius, president of the Senate’s primary council. I am one of the most powerful Matrons in Rome and could easily afford your life if I desired to take it. Now stand and approach!”

Reluctantly, Maximus gets to his feet, He walks forward until the chain draws tight, then leans forward slightly arms back to either side pulling the chain tight, His muscled chest well defined in firelight and shadow. Helen approaches him and takes a small, stoppered bottle and drizzles scented oil upon his chest. Her cool porcelain skin hesitates just a second before she starts to rub the oil into his chest. “Some Matrons pay exorbitant amounts to be serviced by the most powerful gladiators, I however do not. I get no thrill from making the powerful submit. My orders are followed everyday. ” she quietly states. Working her way down she starts to rub his leg muscles as well. The oils cause a sheen upon his skin that greatly enhances his bronze coloring.

The faint scent of cloves and lilacs caress his senses, it is so very different from the smell of stale sweat and death of his profession. He closes his eyes to the tender stroking of this powerful woman and wonders at her motives. If she doesn’t want him for service then what possibly could she want? His thoughts are broken as her hand kneads higher upon his thigh. He opens his eyes and looks down. She kneels there diminutively, hand slowly encircling his growing hardness. Her eyes look up at him pleading as she pulls aside his loin cloth, takes him into her mouth, and begins to work the length slowly in and out. He lays his head back and wonders again at his fortune. One of the most powerful Matrons is performing the taboo act of fellatio on him like some cheap street whore, a woman that could order his life forfeit, is ruining her fine silks on the dusty floor for his pleasure.

His muscles bulge as he strains at the chains trying desperately to gain just a few more inches into her safe zone beyond the limits of his iron shackles. Suddenly it occurs to him what to do, he slowly pulls his hips back. The matron leans forward following, he moves a half step back and she follows continuing her perverse task. He gets her closer then reverses and works his cock into her throat, the situation changes and she knows it, gone is her safety in the limit of his bounds. A subtle shift, as he becomes the one in control, working more of his shaft through her tender lips. She may be powerful in stature and wealth, but now she is in range of his strength. That thought is accentuated as his hands lay upon her head controlling speed and depth. Sure he would be killed if he harmed her but what is death to a Gladiator who measures his days one at a time, where each could be his last. He begins to thrust in earnest, saliva leaks from the corner of her mouth to dribble upon her bosom, the silk dark with the evidence of their debauchery. Her chin and his cock glisten in the warm firelight, slick and moist. He pulls back and out, his solid shaft slips from her tender lips, taking it in hand be rubs the saliva across her cheeks using her dainty soft skin to clean his member.

She looks up at this powerful specimen of a man, chest bulging, arms thick and solid, Eyes hard enough to have watched the death of countless men, and yet she sees wisdom, sincerity, even amusement. He points, she rises and walks over to the x shaped rack, he walks up behind and bends down closing her tender ankles in the cuffs at the base.He clasps the second one after spreading her legs, once it is in place; he grabs her fine dress and rips it from the base straight up her back. He likewise disposes of the undergarments until she stands barebacked, dress held to her front to keep it from falling. He grabs her hips spreads her ass and runs his tongue from the bottom up, she shudders, no man has ever treated her like this.

He stands pressed against her back, looking up, he realizes there are no shackles, just two pins on which to grasp. He growls in her ear “hands!” She looks up and reaches forth to put her hands on each peg; the dress falls to the floor. Taking some of his chain, Teasius wraps each of her wrists to a peg. The chain feels cool and unyielding upon her skin. He reaches around and grasps her breasts in each hand, his callused fingers like sand paper on her smooth unblemished skin. He roughly massages them relishing in they’re elasticity and ability to conform, taking a nipple in his fingers he rolls squeezing until she moans and finally gasps a bit. Reaching down, his hand presses her abdomen. Simultaneously he bites her shoulder. Helen cries out head thrown back, arching her spine causing her hips to swivel back and up granting him access.

There is no tenderness as his cock slides home inside her. Her tender pussy clings to his fleshy manhood like an old lover. He begins to fuck her. No sweetness, no perfumed neck, all man, taking her as he sees fit. Helen relishes in the helpless position, all her life she has been obeyed, finally she has but to do as she is told. He thrusts strongly, each cycle bringing her up to her toes as he fills her completely, his power raw and savage as he drives into her again and again, never slowing, just pure animalistic mating.

He reaches around and takes both nipples between his fingers; rolling them he asks her “are you happy bitch? Do you like being my slave?” as the sound of the words fade he once again pinches harshly. Helen cries out as the convulsions erupt in her loins, “Yessssssssssss.” She begins to thrust back into him faster and harder as the massive orgasm races through her. She is a woman out of control, her hips work so violently that she pulls clean off of him and as she thrusts back she mistakenly takes him in her tiny ass. She freezes, her pure animalistic scream echoes off the walls. Her orgasm triples and her legs give way, as she sags supported only by her weakened grip and his cock. The vise like squeezing of her ass is too much and his seed erupts from his shaft, pulse after pulse shoots along and out of his cock, filling her bowels with his cum. Each contraction swells his shaft stretching her tiny ass that much further, He slows and finally stops, his head leans forward upon her, as he catches his breath against her neck. He reaches up and unwinds the chain pushing her forward to lay in the crook of the x.

Maximus slides out and his issue follows, slowly sliding down her leg. He kneels and unshackled each ankle, the tender skin bruised from her thrashing. He stands and pulls her from the rack and allows her to sink down to her knees, worn and tired. She looks up at him fearfully yet reverently as no man has ever given her such release. He steps forward and presses himself to her lips. She takes him in. He wipes her hair back off her face and whispers, “goooood girl, we have more night left”