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Even from my box seat, high above the dry, dusty arena floor, I could see the sweat gleaming on the toned bodies of the warriors below. It made their skin glimmer in the sunlight as their muscles rippled; each thrust and parry sent a shiver of excitement through my body. I haven’t been touched in so long, I wondered with a frustrated groan. My husband had been abroad for almost a year, away at Court, and I was yearning for satisfaction.
I thought what he would have wondered of this, of these men with their powerful bodies and primitive weapons attacking each other like animals. He would have found it barbaric – and while, yes, it was crude and savage, there was something oddly arousing to the spectacle. The gladiators were skilled and fleet of foot, their attacks an intricate dance. I found my thoughts drifting to speculation of their talents in…less violent arenas.
I shifted my weight, squeezing my legs together to grind into my seat, and bit my lip. Thank the Gods for the private box! I had no interest in business right now, not when I had discovered the tantalizing appeal of oiled warriors. I signaled for a refill of wine and sat back to enjoy the show.
The fighters were from every corner of the region, willing to seek their fortune in our provincial capital, and their bravado and boasts before battle were half the fun. I cheered for the victors and vanquished alike, my focus not on the bloodshed but on the men and their graceful movements…and all the while, I ached, excitement growing. A passing breeze stiffened my nipples through my lightweight gown, while a stray lock of hair against my neck elicited goosebumps.
One fighter outshone the rest, his speed, agility and strength giving me shivers of anticipation. He was brutal and crafty; thoughts of how he would use me suddenly flooded my brain and I gasped at the vulgar daydream, shocked with myself.
Still…the more I tried to dismiss the mental images, the more I saw him: toned, naked, pinning me down. I bit my lip, stunned with my own lust. I was a proper noble lady, not some common wench to be used!
A common wench to be used… I echoed the phrase in my mind, savoring the words and the delicious reaction they had on me, as I watched the man closely.
The Conqueror, they called him, and conquer he did, dominating an entire mock battle to emerge the victor.
The wondered of him inside me lingered and grew as the fights continued until I could take it no longer. I finally stood and made my way towards the depths of the arena, towards the entrance to the preparation area down below and the guest apartments beyond, then groaned in frustration as the crowd swelled, slowing progress to a painful crawl. Let me through! I mentally screamed. After infinite minutes of slowly shuffling along, consumed by mounting tension, I finally managed to get past the main bulk of the crowd to the smaller tunnels used by the fighters.
I knew it was forbidden to be there as a woman, especially alone, but the overwhelming and sudden need clouded my thoughts. I had to meet him. I kept to the shadows, wrapping my scarf over my head as I avoided stares, until I found myself face to face with the guards manning the entrance to the warrior quarters.
“I am here to see the Conqueror ,” I said confidently, drawing my dress closer around me. “I can pay.” I extended my arm, a small leather coin purse dangling from my fingers.
The guards looked at me and then down at my purse and then finally at my chest, my stiffened nipples betraying me. A slow grin spread across their faces. “Finding a stallion?” one teased, while the other just smiled lasciviously.
I felt a thrill of danger both at my own boldness and at the men’s crudeness. They each stepped closer, heavy scents of wine and sweat filling my nose. They were burly, much taller than me, and clad in leather armor. Repulsive, crude men, but I discovered I enjoyed their attention, a fire blooming in my belly as their gazes presumptuously roved my body.
“There’s a tip needed on top of that,” the second man finally chimed in, his grin widening. He stepped closer and reached out, hand sliding down towards my bodice. At first, I stepped back.
I am a noble lady! my mind insisted.
You are a wench to be used, some other part of me replied.
I grasped his hand and guided it to my breast. His eyebrows raised in surprise and then, hungrily, he savored the gift I offered, rough fingers pinching hard at my nipple. My eyes flared and my heart raced at the indignity, but a flood of excitement stilled my hands. The shame turned me on even more.
My breath became ragged and I bit back a moan as the other guard groped me as well – part of me yearned to press my body back into their grasp, but some sanity remained and I managed to simply hold myself still, maintaining some shreds of decorum. The air thickened with the musk of their excitement and I flushed, mind racing like a rabbit as I thought if I had gone crazy. And then, I pulled my gown up my thighs, just enough to invite more.
The guard groaned in lust and pressed himself against me, his broad palm flattening between my legs. His calloused fingers sought purchase and dug into the sensitive crevice, rubbing my wet lips and slick entrance in rhythm. The stench of wine and dirt filled my nostrils, my nipples throbbing harder.
“This one’s already wet!” he growled in approval, and shameful lust flooded me at being used like this by such coarse men. Finally, they stopped the pawing and gave me a soft push through the door to the gladiator cells, slapping my rear and chuckling to themselves as I left.
I felt filthy, but more turned on than I ever had before in my life. My husband was nothing like them, his love making refined, genteel and dutiful. These men, however, these common louts and their casual use of my body had awakened something fiery in my loins.
My legs trembled as I ventured deeper into the preparation pit, skin aflame as I gazed at each specimen of a man. Some lay prostrate on mats and blankets, sleeping; others walked along practicing weapon swings, faces tight with concentration. Their skins shone bronze, well muscled and taut, so different from my slender, slight husband, and all were nude or clad only in simple loincloths.
It was overwhelming, but my body craved the sight, tension building as I looked for the one gladiator who had caught my eye: the Conqueror. As I passed each man, my heart thundered and breath quickened, thinking of what would happen if I simply dropped my dress and offered my body to them. Lust burned bright in my veins. I couldn’t help imagining sinking down amongst the fighters, letting them use me, savoring their hot, spilt essence.
I rounded a corner and froze, overcome with what I saw. This was the warrior from before; up close, he was even more breathtaking. With every movement, his bared chest rippled with muscles that shone golden under the sunlight filtering in from overhead. His blond hair was unbound and flowed over his shoulders, framing his chiseled face. One fist clenched at his side, and I found myself gazing hungrily at it, imagining him pressing it deep into me, and how my body ached for such treatment.
All I wanted to do was touch him, to feel those taut muscles beneath my fingers, but fear overwhelmed my arousal. He was so strong, so powerful…and I had risked so much just to be here. To use him – to have him use me – could lead to danger, especially if my husband found out.
The Court was an awfully long way away, though…
My thoughts were interrupted by a roar, followed by shrieks and yells. Two gladiators had entered the arena above and begun to fight. The Conquerer laughed at my surprise, the first sign he had made that he knew I was there.
“That’s what we do, Lady,” he said in a deep voice which sent excited shivers down my spine. “We fight.”
There was challenge in his curtness, a sharpness to his stare, daring me to voice my desires aloud. Just once, to be spoken to in such a manner, with passion laid bare… Just once, I wanted to be used, an object for primal sexual need. My body flushed as I gathered my strength and willpower, forcing my lips to form the words:
“And do you fuck?”
I found myself stepping forward, curving a finger under his chin and pulling his gaze to mine. I was astonished by my own boldness and almost drew away, but then my breath caught at the feral hunger reflected in his blue eyes. How would he respond? What might he say?
Slowly, slowly, I leaned closer, until we were almost touching. My nipples tightened and I felt an instant rush of heat at his closeness. I glanced down at his chest, watching the pulse beating rapidly at his neck, then he met his lips with mine.
His kiss was everything I had hoped for: the strength of his mouth pushed me back, pushed my senses towards overload. I let my tongue slide against his, lost in a moment of exhilaration. When he reached out to cup the curve of my breast, I gasped into his mouth, unable to stifle a moan.
Finally, I stepped back, overwhelmed by his sudden lust. It was intimidating and intoxicating. He stepped closer. I wanted more. So did he.
I moaned faintly as growing urgency built between my legs and suddenly he was scooping me up, slinging me over his shoulder with a slap on my ass. As he carried me along the hall towards his private quarters, his hands explored my thighs, stretching my gown tight against my swollen, sodden pussy. I groaned at the teasing touch.
His apartment was small, but adequate and cleaner than I had anticipated. A small bed took up one wall, while an armor rack dominated the other, arrayed with his gleaming helm and chestplate. The fighter crossed his arms and watched me impassively, one eyebrow raising in silent, expectant command.
I sunk to my knees.
As I stared up at him, my vision blurred and I swallowed convulsively. From this angle, his burgeoning erection looked massive. No longer did I see smooth muscle and defined lines. I saw flesh, pulsing, erect, and my mind went blank with desire.
Slowly, inexorably, he drew apart his loincloth and approached me. His pace was unhurried, his smile ravenous, and I began to worry I had made an idiotic mistake coming here. But as the beat of my racing heart echoed in my temples, I could think of nothing beyond his cock and how it would feel to be speared by it.
He stepped closer until the tip of his cock was against my lips, its massive length poised between us, slick from excitement. My head fell back as I opened my mouth, desperate to take him in. Instead, he slipped off his loincloth and tied it around my wrists, binding my hands together. I panted for breath as he secured me, realizing I was at his complete mercy. Was this safe? Did I care?
My hips rose as he stroked himself, releasing a few more glistening drops to drip into my mouth. He pulled my arms up with one hand and my dress with another, breaking the fragile chain of my ornate belt. Forget it, my mind screamed, you can buy another. I had more urgent matters on my mind. The rough cloth of his loincloth scraped against my wrists, the light pain curiously stimulating, while my garments fluttered to the straw-covered floor. Then he pushed forward and thrust his entire cock into my mouth.
“Suck,” he said, a single word in a commanding tone which sent shivers down my spine.
For a moment, my jaw worked desperately to take him, while I gasped in shocked surprise, but soon my eagerness overwhelmed me. Only the wrappings around my wrists prevented me from burying my face into his muscular thighs and sucking him in completely. He held me there as I groaned loudly, the taste of him fanning my desire. I pushed my tongue forward to explore, swirling around the length of his shaft and across the tip as he released a harsh gasp of pleasure. He smelled like leather and musk and battle. I wanted to swallow him whole.
My breaths came fast and shallow, my nerves tingling as the fighter’s cock disappeared again and again into my mouth. A bead of precum dripped onto my cheek, another splashed onto my chest, and my body ached for more. Despite my restraints, I sucked tight around his length, struggling to draw him deep into my throat, my head bobbing hungrily as he withdrew slightly only to thrust back in.
Over and over again he used my mouth, and over and over again I welcomed it, both of us driven wild by lust and wanton need. If he moved just a little faster, held me just a little tighter, I would be able to bear it no longer, but he seemed to know, keeping me dancing on the edge of excitement. Hot desire burst into flames between my thighs. I cried out around his cock, desperate to touch myself, but he merely chuckled, using my restraints to guide me to the bed.
“Down,” he ordered, twisting the bindings around the bedpost. I felt ashamed by how hot it made me, at how much his barked commands turned me on. I was like a bitch in heat, on fire from his terse words.
As he stepped back, I struggled, my hands bound tightly behind my back, lust warring with reason. I should leave! I told myself over and over. Allowing myself to be used by him was stupid and dangerous, yet it was too late. I could feel myself weakening, bending to his will. All I wanted was to surrender. It was written across my flushed chest, heaving bosom, my soaking pussy, and the warrior knew it.
“More-” I begged, panting.
Slowly, he spread my legs open. The movement took my breath away and my heart pounded wildly. Fear battled with lust, panic fighting desire. Before me stood the undefeated gladiator, the Conqueror. I was an object, nothing more, something to be used for his own carnal pleasures. He had won the games three times now, dominating the competition – and, suddenly, I realized I was giving him the opportunity to conquer a new realm.
My nipples hardened at the wondered and I bit my lip to keep from crying out. I strained against the bindings holding me, but if I was honest, I didn’t really want them to break. The restraint was delicious, the lack of control driving me mad with excitement. And then he kneeled between my legs.
My chest heaved from ragged breaths as I stared down at him. I had never seen a cock quite like this one. There was a precise beauty to my husband’s penis, slight and slender, but what the warrior had was terrifying and tantalizing. Thick, long and veiny, it suggested something primal and animalistic about its use. Would it even fit? Was he aware of its size? Or was he simply reveling in my helplessness, thinking me worthy of nothing more than being used? The wondered made me wetter and I spread my legs aside more, whimpering, begging him to enter me, and then he did, with a slowness that was surprisingly tender and teasing. He held my hips firmly, stilling my yearning struggles for his cock, and my body screamed in need as I pleaded for more.
“Look at me, lady,” he sternly commanded, and his lips touched mine.
I froze, consumed by shock. For a moment, I couldn’t speak, could hardly breathe – how dare he speak to me so? But there was a magnetic tone to his voice that I couldn’t help but obey, and I raised my eyes to meet his. His gaze was electric and I gasped as he slowly began to thrust in and out. I could feel him filling me, stretching me with each slow thrust and I arched my back, shifting my own hips to meet him. Slowly, ever so gently, he penetrated deeper and deeper, holding me close with his muscular arms while his head bent to my breast. I gasped with blissful shock when he sucked hard on one nipple, dragging his teeth along the hardened peak, sending ripples of pleasure through my body.
“Gods-”
My mouth dropped open and I choked back a cry of need. Pleasure surged through me, melting into waves of heat and ecstasy. I moaned, throwing my head back to expose my throat. He circled my swollen nipple with his tongue and then nipped at it, in time with a sudden, slamming thrust. One arm wound around my waist to hold me securely in place, keeping me close and pressed against his body, while the other fisted in my hair and tugged roughly, drawing my head even further back. His lips traced a fiery trail upwards to kiss at my neck and then he let out a low, guttural moan as he buried his face in my hair. He bit my ear. The pain was delightful.
I shivered as a shudder of rapture shot through me. Sweat beaded my brow and my back arched. Moaning quietly, I squeezed my eyes shut as he thrust hard, stretching me wide. Finally, his hand grazed down my side to tease my inner thighs before slipping between our bodies to stroke at my clit. Soon, I writhed beneath him, fingers digging into the bedsheets, thighs trembling, body rising and falling, all wondered of self gone in need. My toes curled and I cried out softly, rocking my hips against him as he plunged into me again and again.
“Look at me, lady,” he growled again, his voice a command my body could do nothing but obey.
So I did, lifting my eyes to his. The set of his broad shoulders was rigid, muscles bunching and bulging, eyes fierce and determined, and his strong arms encircled me possessively. In that moment, he wasn’t a man at all, but some primordial force of nature dominating and destroying me, breaking down my inhibitions in a sexual frenzy. I lifted my chin higher, my breathless whimpers only encouraging him to go harder and he responded hungrily. He used me.
“Look at me, wench,” he demanded.
I liked that name for me on his lips. I like how filthy it made me feel. I dutifully met his gaze, my earlier reluctance nearly gone now. I was a wench, his wench, my body made for his pleasure.
He twisted his body, pressing his face to my breasts, slamming into me, breathing harshly through clenched teeth. Faster and faster he fucked me, plunging deeply, barely restraining himself from taking me whole or allowing me a moment to breathe. I was his object in that moment, there to be filled by his passion, and the wondered enflamed me. I was quivering with anticipation as he flipped me over and gripped my waist. The new angle was deeper and I moaned, unable to believe my body could take his enormous cock, yet willing to try. He pulled my hips back with each thrust, plunging deeper and deeper inside me.
“Come-”
I gasped.
“For-”
I moaned.
“Me-”
I came…
My teeth sank into my bottom lip as I writhed helplessly under him. Over and over, a waterfall of sensation, punctuated with loud cries of ecstasy as his fingers continued to rub at my sensitive clit.
“Wench,” he concluded in a satisfied growl.
My spine tensed as he held me tightly, using me to release his own passions in mindless dominance. I gasped and trembled beneath him as he held me firmly and finally, in wet, hot pumps, unleashed his seed to spill into me. I lost track of where we were, of who we were. All that mattered was his firm grasp and the urgent demand of his cock inside me. He groaned, the sound a primal roar of pleasure.
“Good wench,” he murmured, caressing my body as he slowly lowered himself to the bed beside me, spent. I felt giddy at his reaction. My body had done that to him. I had given him that pleasure and driven him mindless, not as a lady, but as a wench.
I lay sated on the bed, limbs weak, and for a long time neither of us spoke or moved. Finally, he rolled over and, with surprising tenderness, unbound my hands from their restraints. I was speechless, mind still reeling from the strength of my orgasms, but I eventually managed to form words, giving in to my newly unlocked, shameful pleasure:
“Shall we meet again after tomorrow’s arena games?”
He chuckled, cradling my breasts in his hands as he pulled me into a tight embrace. “Why wait so long, wench?” And with that, I felt a stirring at my back as another erection began to grow. I wriggled my hips, grinding my ass into his groin encouragingly. It seems I liked being his wench… and I had nowhere in particular to be…
My husband, and the Court, were an awfully long way away, afterall.
NSFW: yes
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