A Gladiator's Prize

All characters are consenting adults (18+) 

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The thundering drums boomed through the arena like a herd of stampeding elephants. The crowd had become restless, and had turned their attention toward the juggler who stood in the sand, dressed in all manner of ridiculous drabs. Rocks pelted down upon him, and gave an added excitement to his mundane routine.

When Augustus Cassius took to his feet, the rocks stopped raining, the drums ceased, and the crowd fell silent. Tens of thousands of eyes landed on the Emperor, as he stood in his fineries, with his lady wife to his right, and his most loyal servants to his left. He raised a ringed hand which glistened under the blazing sun, and spoke with the harsh accent that his people had come to crave.

“Begin”.

His voice travelled across the amphitheatre, carried by the warm wind to every corner as the arena was so designed to do. Even though the gates began to rise, much of the crowd continued to hold their gaze. Emperor Cassius resembled a God. His olive skin bore the marks of long forgotten battles, but had since been tended to by the soft hands of the tonsors in the palace. His mane of black hair was stretched back over his head, tied off and kept in place by a laurel wreath, yet another symbol of his many victories on the battlefield. Though Emperor Cassius hadn’t drawn his sword intently for many years, his arms still resembled those of the many Gladiators who marched from the gates and lined up below him.

“Which of the men shall I cheer for?” The Empress asked, as her wine was refilled for the third time. She was neither bothered nor interested in attending these games, and did so only for her husband’s pleasure. The man remained on his feet and studied the impressive fighters before him. Most would be dead within the hour.

“Him” he said, though he didn’t point nor nod. Cassius felt little need for elaborating. He was the Emperor, and thought it pointless to explain himself. His wife thought it just as pointless, and turned to one of the more handsome servants, a boy of youth, his face webbed with scars and his eyes, an innocent blue.

“What say you?” She asked, and the boy almost choked.

“T… They say that the slave Nero can cut down three men with one blow”.

Cassius scoffed, causing the boy to silence, but the woman raised her glass and said “to Nero”.

The crowd, who had waited on every word, erupted with cheer, but Emperor Cassius tightened his jaw, scowled at his wife, and announced his choice.

“Tiberius” he said, and his choice received far more of a response than hers.

The Gladiators spread out across the sand. Their strong bodies had been perspiring long before they’d left the holding areas beneath the arena. Beads of sweat trickled down their flesh and hid beneath their armour, as they swung swords, spun daggers and eyed their enemy brothers with malice in their dark eyes.

Emperor Cassius clapped his hands and took a seat on the jewel studded chair. As always, his seating area afforded him and his distinguished guests the perfect view of the violence, and they all watched closely as it began.

As men fell and succumbed to their injuries, all eyes remained on the two fighters who had been chosen by the Emperor and Empress. Whilst nobody would dare say a word until later in the evening when the wine began to flow, everybody knew of the bitterness between the two. Very many of the people would silently side with Empress Helena, but those with a shred of intelligence backed Cassius the Cruel.

When two Gladiators remained, the arena held it’s collective breath. Helena took another refill and raised a toast to her husband.

“To victory” she said, as Nero, a youthful looking man beneath his steel mask, rolled majestically from the path of a violent swipe.

“My sweetness” Cassius said, a curl to his pursed lips, “victory is achieved by fighting, not by dancing”. He swallowed the last of his own wine and it was refilled instantly.

Everybody watched as the skilful battle raged on. Tiberius was a man more than twice the age of the slender one. He wielded his weapon with expert precision, but the boy continued to dodge and weave, like an Autumn leaf in the breeze.

When he arched his back and narrowly avoided losing his nose, the crowd gasped. Yet the boy, so elegant in his movements, waved up at them gleefully, and caused Helena to laugh. Cassius glared.

On and on it went, with Tiberius becoming frustrated by the boy’s fluid movements. He swung left, swung right, swung up, down and back, but for every powerful effort, the boy evaded him, and soon he became tired.

Cassius drained another glass and slammed it on the table. They all watched as Tiberius swung once more, missed once more, and froze in motion as the hilt of a blade entered somewhere, and exited somewhere else. Silence fell over the arena, until Nero removed his sword and bowed to the Emperor and Empress.

As was tradition, they stood. Helena clapped proudly, and Cassius, not so proudly.

“Victory, my dear husband” she said, keeping her eyes on the young man below, “is achieved by being victorious”.

“Who is your owner, boy?” Cassius asked, when Nero was eventually taken to the palace at the Emperor’s request. Helena sat on a sofa, her satin gown doing little to cover her, just the way she liked. Her long leg slipped out, forcing the boy to glance, until Cassius barked the question again, and he swallowed loudly.

“Marcus Antonius, my Lord” he said, in a voice that would have commanded some level of respect, had he not been little more than handsome property.

“Antonius has had many Gladiators over the years” Cassius pondered aloud, “very few have won”.

“Very few have been like me, my Lord”. Helena smiled at this, and Nero let his lip twitch. Cassius noticed both.

The boy was an older teen, eighteen or nineteen. His eyes looked almost bronze against his smooth, tanned skin which for the most part, was completely free of blemish. In another world, Nero could have been a dancer or an entertainer. The ladies would have enjoyed him.

“Take off his clothes” Cassius said to the guards, and nobody hesitated as the boy was stripped down.

The Emperor hoped for something that would rid his wife of her sinful lust. A vagina perhaps, though he knew her enough to believe that even that wouldn’t stop her. She sat up as the slave’s tunic was ripped from his muscular, taut body. He made no attempt to conceal himself when the loincloth was shredded from him, and Emperor Cassius let out a frustrated breath as a cock and balls fit for any self respecting man flopped out.

“Perhaps I should have it removed” he said, eyeing the reaction. “Root and stem, I’m sure it would make a fine broth”.

“I’m sure you’re correct, my Lord” Nero replied, clasping his hands behind his back as Helena bit her bottom lip, “but I fear that such a punishment for simply winning might dissuade the other Gladiators from fighting”.

“Perhaps” he replied, though the opinion of slaves meant little to him, “or perhaps it might send a message to those who think it wise to gaze upon the Empress with such…” He played with the word on his tongue, “desire”.

Helena stood. The effect of the wine was showing through her previously composed veil of sobriety. She sauntered toward her husband, allowing the gown to sweep over her flawless flesh, and rested on his shoulder.

“Maybe the boy’s desire can be of use” she slithered, her hand resting on her husband’s firm chest. He looked down at her, disgust written on his face, and swatted her away like a particularly annoying fly.

“Drop to your knees, slave” he said, turning his gaze back toward Nero, who hesitated not one moment before obeying his Ruler’s command. Cassius studied every delicate muscle on the boy’s body. “You don’t deny it, then?” He asked, as the naked slave watched from the tiles.

“How could I deny such beauty, my Lord?” He questioned, his penetrating eyes showering the woman. “Though, I do not wish to offend”.

“Don’t you?” Cassius spat, and took two strides forward before hooking Nero’s chin, and forcing his head upwards. “You come to my home and lust over the Emperor’s wife?”

Helena scoffed, filled her own glass, and sat on the edge of the table. “I’m more than just your wife” she reminded him, but he ignored her, and kept his eyes pinned to Nero.

“Answer me, slave”.

“Only at your invite, my Lord. Otherwise, I would have continued to lust for your lady wife in the arena, like the rest of the men”.

The slap loosened the taste in his mouth and sent a spray of saliva shooting from his lips. The red handprint showed the jewels of the Emperor’s many rings, and welted the flesh in an instant.

Expecting more of a reaction, Cassius struck again. He gave the left side, what the right side already had, and when Nero’s eyes remained on his wife, he turned to find the woman with her legs spread and her finger sliding between her crease.

“You wound me, darling” he said, and returned to her, “bring the slave to the dungeon, I’ll deal with him later”.

The guards moved on command, and took a naked Nero by his arms. “I look forward to your company, my Lord” he said, as he was led from the room, but Cassius had turned his attention to his wife, and there it remained until she lay exhausted on the sofa.

“Perhaps some day you’ll give me a son” he said, wiping sweat from his brow as he sat back and drank.

“Your wet nurse failed you, my dear” she said, adjusting herself, “a man must finish in order to have a child”. She stood up and strolled to the door before turning back. “Perhaps the slave might show you how”.

In the dungeon, Nero hung from both wrists. His arms had been extended over his head, and kept him a painful inch above the damp concrete below. The steel shackles tore into his flesh, but the nude man remained composed as Emperor Cassius entered.

“My Lord” he said, politely, though the strain was obvious in his voice, and his body glistened with beads of sweat.

“Are you intentionally irritating? The man asked, watching from the shadows.

“Not intentionally, no, my Lord. A birth defect, perhaps”.

“Steady now, slave” Cassius warned, “a smart tongue could earn you another birth defect”.

“Technically, my Lord” he groaned, pushing his toes to the ground to ease the strain, “it wouldn’t be a birth defect if you did it in my eighteenth year”.

Cassius darted toward him and grabbed his smooth face between his fingers. He squeezed until the slave’s lips parted, and felt his nostrils flare with rage. “You have a habit of testing me, boy. Not many people have a chance to do that twice”.

Their warm breath mingled between them. One could be forgiven for mistaking their stand off as something more.

“Yet, here I am” the teen replied.

“Here you are”.

Their eyes grappled. Neither blinking, neither looking away. Cassius had rarely experienced such insolence, least of all, from a boy so young he could have been his son. Least of all, from a slave.

“I could have you flogged through the town” he snarled, his tongue slithering against his teeth, “strips of flesh torn from your back and bottom whilst the world watched on”. He released his grasp, but dragged his finger down the young man’s jaw. “I could have you hanged the way you are. Naked for them to see, for them to jeer as you gasped your final gasp”. His finger continued down the lump in his throat, pushing into the moist flesh and leaving a white trail in it’s path. “Perhaps I could have you tortured for their amusement, they do love a bloodbath”.

“It would be an honour to die by your command, my Lord” Nero replied softly, sucking air through his teeth, “men like me rarely receive such special treatment from the Emperor himself”.

“Men?” Cassius asked, grasping Nero’s cock and balls in one hand, twisting enough to make the slave’s face tighten. “Hardly a man, now, are you, boy?”

“Well, my Lord” he breathed, his body being pulled forward by his stretched genitals, “with nobody around to witness, I suppose I could be whatever you want me to be”. Nero hooked his legs around the Emperor’s waist, and dragged him forward, the man stiffened, but made no attempt to free himself.

“You’re very brave, slave” he said, releasing his balls, but keeping the cock in his hand, “you know what they call me, don’t you?”

Nero became erect. His manhood pulsed in the Emperor’s hand, and only when he released his grip on the man’s waist, did he dangle freely with his cock sticking out from his chiselled body.

“Cassius the Cruel” he said, “rumour says you’ve certainly earned it”.

“Do you believe the rumours?”

“Should I?”

The open handed slap made Nero’s hard cock smack against his thigh. The burn forced a gasp from his throat.

“Perhaps” Cassius said, and spun the young man slowly until his ass was visible. “Have you ever pleasured a man, slave?”

“Do I look like a whore, my Lord?”

“Quite”.

He chuckled and inhaled sharply when the Emperor’s finger slid deep between his meaty cheeks.

“The thing that exists between one’s legs means little to me, my Lord. Man or woman, what does it matter when the Gods and Goddesses have given us all the ability to pleasure and be pleasured”.

Cassius pushed his finger deeper into the slave, feeling him clench around his knuckle, far tighter than his wife. “You have a poet’s tongue” he said, twisting as he plunged, “what else can you do with it?”

Nero smiled and grunted as a second finger entered him.

“My tongue is yours, my Lord” he gasped, spreading his legs apart to welcome the Emperor into his body. “From tip to toe, I’ll use it in ways that the Empress has never”.

The fingers slipped from his hole and the whack across his backside made him wince. “Perhaps I’ll have your tongue removed, slave” Cassius snarled, spanking him again, “perhaps I’ll have it pushed inside your hole, so you can taste the shit that you spew”.

Nero’s cock continued to leak. “I apologise if I’ve offended you, my Lord. I meant only that I have powers that others do not. My body can do things that a woman’s can not”.

Cassius felt the erection in his tunic. With Helena, such a reaction often took considerable effort to achieve. With the slave, it had happened without warning. He pulled apart the fabrics, slid from tunic and toga, and stood naked.

He had a body to be proud of. Battle hardened, striking, and sharp. His organ stood like a drinking horn from between his muscular legs, and this evening, it was as stiff as one, too.

“You’re going to make me finish” he said, turning Nero back around, “your freedom depends on your success”.

The slave smiled at the man with an invitingly seductive look in his beautiful eyes. “And if I fail, my Lord?”

“Then perhaps I’ll keep you in this dungeon until I tire of your services”.

“Then perhaps I shall fail on purpose”.

Nero stumbled forward when the chains were loosened. He watched as the Emperor unshackled him, and tended to his raw wrists with his hands. When Cassius stood before him, he reached for the man’s cock, and gasped as his forearm was clutched with such strength, it could break.

“Your tongue, slave”.

Keeping eye contact, Nero slowly took to his knees on the cold concrete. He slipped his hands behind his back as though returned to chains, and ran his tongue over his lips, glistening them in saliva, and inviting the man into his mouth.

Cassius took his own member by the thick base and angled it downwards. Helena thought such acts to be crude, but he was certain that her feelings on the matter only extended to him. He’d bet money that had his wife been presented with the cock of the slave, the vulgarities would scarcely cross her mind.

Nero flicked his tongue tip against the loose foreskin which hung over the Emperor’s mushroom head. One tiny area gave such breathtaking pleasure, that he focused all of his attention on it and teased the man with nothing more. Cassius clenched his muscles and closed his eyes. He felt weak like this, as though the lowly slave had somehow beaten him into captivity with little more than his tongue. Yet, ripples of pleasure drove through his cock, and once or twice, a soft gasp blew from his lips.

A single bright bead hung from the tip of his cock. Nero dragged it onto his tongue, tasting the Emperor’s shame as he forced feelings from the man, that his own wife could not. The sharp saltiness cleansed his pallet, and he returned for more, taking deeper, Cassius’ manhood.

Every part of the Emperor’s body relaxed into the act. His arms hung down by his sides, his head dropped forward, and he watched through heavy lidded eyes as the slave swallowed him with not a single gag or splutter.

Speaking felt wrong. He wondered if saying the words on his mind would give this slave boy some further power over him, and yet somewhere inside, he believed he owed him something. Perhaps by speaking the words, the situation would feel more like a simple transaction than a powerful awakening.

“You have the lips of a woman” he said, clinging on to the last shred of dignity that he possessed.

Nero sat back and let the cock slide from his throat. He looked up at the Emperor until their eyes met once more. “No, my Lord” he said, moving forward and allowing the wet organ to hang over his face as he kissed his Ruler’s balls. “I have the lips of a man”.

As Nero returned to his duty, Cassius knew that the finish line was quickly approaching. It had happened once before with his wife, another time with a whore from the city, and often in his sleep, when he’d wake to find his sheets drenched in excitement from unconscious desires that he did not wish to dwell on.

As the burning rush of orgasm began to rush through his cock, Nero sat back and watched it twitch. Frustrated, Cassius snapped his fingers.

“Finish” he ordered, but the boy smiled. “Finish or I’ll have you beaten!”

“Does your lady wife care so little for you, my Lord, that you truly don’t understand the beauty of sex?”

Another slap, this one cutting the slave’s lip. He looked up with a pretty grin on his handsome face, and wiped a droplet of blood with his thumb. He placed it on his tongue, and sucked it sensually.

“You’ll finish me, now” Cassius demanded, as strange, yet not unwelcome darts of arousal pricked through him.

“You’re less intimidating with your clothes off, my Lord” he whispered, “perhaps you’ll have to make me finish you”.

He grabbed the lad by the throat, crouching down until they were level. Both cocks still hard. “You think I won’t end you, my boy?” He asked, squeezing.

“I know you will” Nero choked, but didn’t struggle, “but at least fuck me before you do”.

Cassius glared. The mere suggestion of it filled him with an anger so sharp he could have had the boy’s head. His grip tightened. “Do you take me for a sodomite, slave?”

Nero slid his hand between the Emperor’s thighs until he found the throbbing rod. He took it as though shaking hands with a friend, and ran his fingers along the bulging veins. Cassius’ grip loosened.

“Would it be so bad, my Lord?” He choked, his eyes beginning to strain. He pulled the man closer to him by his cock, and wrestled himself free. Turning around on all fours, Nero presented to the Emperor, a rear so beautiful that he could not deny it. “Fuck me” he whispered again.

Cassius looked down at it. Hidden between the tanned cheeks, like pillows, the sight of the slave’s pink hole forced clear droplets to gulp from his pole. The young man reached behind and took him again, rubbing the tip against his most private area. Cassius gasped.

There was no longer a need for words. The Emperor had fought as much as he was willing to fight, and would forgive himself for his weakness another time. He pushed against the man, waiting for the familiar feeling of struggle as he tried to get his barely aroused member into his wife, but watched as the slave’s hole swallowed him.

One eye closed, though they both rolled, as Cassius drove deeper into the warm, moist sleeve. He placed his hand’s on the boy’s back, feeling his spine under his thumbs. He pushed his legs between Nero’s forcing them wider apart. The Emperor hung his head back, grunting as he finally felt the pleasures of sex.

“This, my Lord” Nero moaned, his cheeks bouncing with each deep thrust, “is what it’s supposed to feel like”.

The sound of balls slapping against flesh echoed through the old dungeon. Sweat dripped from both men, forcing their nude bodies to glisten under the shred of light coming from a tiny gap above them. Cassius dragged the boy back by the hair, twisting his head until their eyes locked.

“Should you tell a soul” he grunted, fucking harder, “I’ll consider it treason, and have your tongue, at best”.

“But my Lord” he whimpered, pushing back, “you already have it”.

A hint of a smile crossed the Emperor’s lips. He pulled the slave up toward his chest, and held his warm body in place as he plunged deeper into his forbidden hole. Their lips met, for all logic had drained from him, and only passion remained. Their tongues battled, and in the midst of the lustful chaos, Emperor Cassius discharged with such force that the dungeon spun around him, and only by holding onto the slave’s slippery nakedness, did the man remain in place.

Dressed once more, Cassius chained the slave back into place. Sweat trickled down his sides, and between his legs, a creamy liquid drooled down his thighs. The slave’s cock remained stiff.

“After all of it” he breathed, “you chain me again, my Lord? Was I not what you wanted?”

Cassius grabbed his face once more, only this time he plunged his tongue back inside his mouth with force. “You were everything I wanted, slave” he hissed, as he released him, “so how can I let a man so special roam free?”

“So you’re keeping me, my Lord? My prize for winning is you?”

“Can you think of a better one?”

Nero smiled as the Emperor left the dungeon, and no sooner than he had, Helena appeared from the shadows.

“You did well, Nero” she smiled, eyeing his erection.

“Perhaps too well, my Lady” he replied.

She dragged her fingers along the young man’s stiff cock and felt him shudder. “This shall be my husband’s downfall, my love” she whispered, teasing the cock. “Soon, it shall be you and I who rule the Empire”.

“And if the Emperor should ever find out?” He asked, his breath catching as he moaned.

“Find out what?” She smiled, “that I’ve been fucking you for months, or that his new cock sleeve has committed high treason?”

“Both”.

“Then we shall fuck forever in the afterlife”.

With those words, Helena swung on her feet and left, and Nero gasped, grunted and spewed sperm from his cock onto the cold concrete below.