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In the Arena
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
IN THE ARENA
By WRITER MAN 2537
Dirk entered the arena staging ground with those familiar
butterflies fluttering in his stomach. One more time, one
more battle in here, one more man dying at his feet, and he
would win his freedom. Win or lose, this would be his final
day of slavery, and he could return to the North, to his uncle
who had sold him at 16 into bondage here in the corrupt
Empire. He would find Leif again, his best friend, first
though. If he still lived under the could his uncle would
have placed on him, the friend of a traitor to the chief of
his tribe.
The Empire hadn't just tossed him into the arena to live
or die, but he had received a years' training that had
strengthened his already big muscles into a fighter's body
that bore few scars. The northern sword and shield were, as
always, his favorite fighting tools. He would have to wonder
about his opponent, unless Vitus was talkative.
"Who is my opponent?" he asked as he stepped before the
movable barrier.
Vitus looked over at him and grinned. "Why would you
care, barbarian? Plenty of men have died at your feet. Why
should you care who the poor fool is?"
"It helps to know." Dirk reminded him. "You know that."
"True, but I'm not sure I should tell you." Vitus looked
at the slave with hunger. He had paid once for the use of
Dirk's body, to hold that blond god in his arms, to press his
manhood into Dirk's ass and there spread his seed. Dirk had
been a boring lay, though, Vitus sighed, lying there as though
he would not enjoy, just endure. Even Vitus' lips on Dirk's
cock hadn't brought the slightest hardening. Vitus would not
pay the price again for a gladiator slave, but did not regret
it, and felt a fondness for this slave that he had once held.
"Ah, very well. I don't know his name, but he's a
fighter from the provincial arenas. He's one of your
countrymen, about your age and height, and will fight with the
same weapons as yourself. He, too, will earn his freedom if
he wins this day."
Dirk nodded. He planned to kill a chief, if a countryman
must die to permit this, it was a small price.
"Thank you, Vitus." he said.
"The last bout is over." Vitus cocked his ear at the
trumpet and crowd sounds that meant the last man hadn't fought
valiantly enough, and would now die at the hands of the
victor. "I won't be seeing you again, barbarian." Vitus said.
"May I taste your lips one more time?"
Dirk thought it over, shrugged. Vitus deserved something
for his information. Warning of an opponent was of great
help, and a slave had nothing but his body to offer. He
leaned over and down to the man about to pull the ropes to
open the barrier, and gave Vitus a kiss, not quickly, but
almost intimately.
Vitus rubbed his lips. "Now if you'd only kissed like
that when I'd paid for it."
Dirk grinned. "I win my freedom this day. One way or
the other. I am in a better mood than when I'm whipped to a
bed and told to perform."
"True. Good luck, barbarian." Vitus said. As Dirk
walked out into the arena, he reflected at how Vitus had,
despite five years' acquaintance, never bothered to learn his
name.
He could see his countryman pacing towards him, wearing,
like him, merely a brief loincloth. How the crowds of this
corrupt country loved to see a man's body, how they loved to
hold men like himself. Sex and violence were mixed together
in their minds.
He got closer, and frowned. The man was indeed a
countryman, and one of his tribe. His tattoo on one cheek
bore witness to that. In the color of the man's shoulder-
length hair, dirty-blond, in the eyes and face, there was
something of Leif as he'd last seen him. Dear, gentle
Leif....
"Winter's whore!" he shouted in disbelief his tribe's
oldest curse. "Leif!"
"Dirk!" Leif returned to him. They nearly ran to embrace
each other, but the crowd's roar reminded them. They fell
into circling each other warily.
"Must one of us kill the other?" Dirk asked sadly.
"It seems we must." Leif said. His voice was, if
possible, even sadder.
"Damn these people with eternal night!" Dirk said. "I
can't kill you!" And as the crowd roared angrily, Dirk cast
down his sword and shield into the arena's dust still thick
with spilled blood.
Leif cast his down as well. "Yet they must have their
show." he said. "Let's wrestle!"
And Leif cast himself at Dirk with the familiar abandon.
Dirk laughed as Leif's body bore him down. Leif always
jumped into battle like this when they wrestled, and always
it was his downfall. Dirk had a greater strength in his arms
than Leif, which is all it took to catch the body as it
plummeted onto him, lift him partially up, and cast him aside
onto the ground, following with his own body.
They clutched with a fierceness born of many fights. If
the crowd enjoyed their change of battle, then perhaps it
would please them enough to set them free.
So they wrestled with whispered advice to each other.
"Throw me over your head, Dirk." Leif whispered, and Dirk
did so, and jumped down, slowly enough to let Leif, always
more agile and adept, to roll out of the way, causing him to
hit only dust. And Leif was atop him, their loincloths
dangling from their side, twisted partially around on them,
covering nothing. Dirk felt Leif's cock press against his
buttocks.
The Emperor seemed to enjoy this, they realized. He was
laughing and shouting at them. "Give it to him, barbarian.
Stick it in him."
"Perhaps we'd better do as they say." Leif whispered in
his ear. "If we give them a show, they'll not put us to
death."
Dirk felt Leif's cock harden against him, and Leif moved
oh-so-slightly to try to maneuver it into his bowels.
But that meant that Leif no longer had him pinned. Dirk
heaved and Leif went tumbling to the side. They scrambled to
their feet, circled again. Dirk yanked his loincloth off, to
stand nude before Leif. Leif mimicked him, and two naked men
were circling in the arena.
Dirk grinned at Leif. "If you want to use this body,
you'll have to win the bout."
Leif laughed in his turn. "Then I shall win it."
But laughter meant a lowering of guard, a relaxation of
the muscles. And Dirk charged into him before he could
recover his concentration.
Over onto Leif's back, they both fell to the ground, Dirk
pounced to get astride his friend, felt Leif's erection stab
his buttocks. "Now who shall fuck who?" he smirked into
Leif's face.
"Not if I can pry you off of me, old friend." Leif
struggled. Trying to get leverage, he thrashed with his legs,
but only scooted Dirk forward onto him, and Dirk was now
astride Leif's chest. Dirk reached for Leif's arms, caught
them one at a time by the wrists, pinned him back.
Which left his boner rubbing Leif's cheeks.
"Open your mouth, my friend." Dirk said. He scooted
back, thrust forward, and his cock was now perched at Leif's
lips. "Open it for me."
"Put it in and I'll bite it." Leif responded. But in
saying "bite", he opened his mouth too far. Dirk thrust
forward, and his cock scraped Leif's teeth, but made it into
the warm mouth. Dirk pushed until his entire seven-inch
length was nestled inside his friend's mouth, choking him,
making him unable to bite.
"If we are not to kill each other or both be killed, one
of us must be the woman." Dirk said. "I have won. Be my
woman, and I shall pay you once we have our freedom."
Leif seemed to realize the truth of this, and relaxed his
struggle. Dirk kept his hands pinned unless his friend should
change his mind, but used his leg muscles to push his cock in
and out of his pinioned friend.
Leif gagged, slurped on Dirk's cock with an experience
that startled Dirk. In his culture, sex between men was
punishable by death. When would Leif...?
But he remembered Vitus and his gold pieces that bought
his body that night. Leif, too, would have had his Vitus, had
his body used.
Compassion took over, and Dirk was no longer so rough,
but gently pushed half his cock-length into Leif's mouth,
permitting Leif to give him pleasure rather than stealing it
from him.
Leif's mouth was familiar, friendly, adept. Dirk felt
his orgasm building and he remembered the need for a show,
yanked his cock from Leif's clutching mouth, to shoot it over
his friend's face.
But as the first spray hit Leif, as Dirk writhed in
orgasm, he used the weakness it brought to raise Dirk's body
up, it unable to stop him. Dirk slid backwards, and felt his
buttocks pin Leif's erect cock. Leif raised up, with Dirk
still helplessly spraying come into the air, to land on Leif's
chest, then on his own, then...Leif was on top of him now, his
legs between Dirk's, his cock seeking out Dirk's asshole while
Dirk still contorted with his lust.
As the last of his seed dribbled into his pubic hair,
Leif took possession of Dirk roughly, his cock plowing into
him. Leif's hands now pinned him down, his cock a bobbing
blur.
And there was passion. Dirk squirmed with it, the
pleasure of his friend's cock inside of him. Leif took no
time at all in this, the urgency of coming pre-empting the
slowness of pleasure. And he pulled out of Dirk's ass,
sprayed his come over Dirk's body, a copious flow of white
jism that coated him thoroughly.
As Leif finished, he fell onto his friend, caught his
breath, helped Dirk to his feet. Both of their chests sticky
with come, they turned to the Emperor.
Dirk found himself changing his mind. With his freedom,
he and Leif could settle within the Empire. Build a farm.
And keep expressing their new-found love for each other.
"Were you pleased with us?" Leif and Dirk shouted
together the words of victory. And the Emperor nodded, tossed
down a bag of gold into each of their waiting hands.
And Dirk smiled at his old friend and new lover. They
had much to discuss. But words weren't needed. He reached
for Leif's cock, grabbed it, squeezed it.
And Leif reached over, took Dirk's cock and held it
tenderly. They ignored the crowd as they held each other's
cock. With the simplicity of their people, the decision had
been made.
THE END
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