Arax of Greece vs. Scipio of Egypt
Private Imperial Arena, Rome. The two gladiators entered the small private arena barefoot and clad only in simple leather loincloths. Both stood six feet tall and weighed two hundred ten pounds of hard, battle-trained muscle. Arax of Greece was dark-haired and broad-shouldered, his body marked by the scars of many previous fights. Scipio of Egypt was slightly thicker through the chest and arms, his movements deliberate and powerful.
Emperor Commodus sat on a low stone seat only a few paces from the sand, leaning forward with open interest. Commodus enjoyed man to man combat, muscle straining against muscle until one gave way. But he wanted more than a struggle. He wanted a man reduced to a crying shell, body wounded and sexually overwhelmed.
He raised one hand. “Begin.” They closed at once. Arax shot in low, driving a shoulder into Scipio’s midsection and wrapping both arms around his waist. Scipio sprawled backward, dropped his weight, and locked a tight front headlock. They crashed to the sand. Arax twisted free and drove a short, hard elbow into Scipio’s ribs. Scipio answered with a knee to the thigh that buckled Arax’s leg, then spun behind him and cinched a body lock. For long minutes they strained against each other, muscles corded, feet digging trenches in the sand as they fought for position. Scipio’s greater leverage began to tell. He lifted Arax clear of the ground and slammed him down hard enough to drive the breath from his lungs. Before Arax could recover, Scipio trapped an arm and rolled into a tight shoulder lock. Arax’s face twisted; he hammered at Scipio’s side with his free fist, but the pressure only increased. At last Arax slapped the sand twice. Scipio knew what Commodus wanted. He tore the loincloth from Arax and removed his own. Taking his exposed penis he slapped Arax face with it and then forced it into Arax’s mouth slamming it multiple times down his opponent’s throat faster and faster letting out grunts with each penetration. Then a massive ecstasy swept over Scipio, his body tensed, his satisfaction shown on his face as his white serum flowed down Arax’s gullet.
Commodus waved them on. “Continue.” Scipio took his penis out just long enough for Arax to rise, then met him with a thunderous double-leg takedown. This time he passed the guard cleanly, settled into side control, and began a methodical series of short punches to the body and face. Arax bridged and scrambled, only to be dragged back down and forced into a crushing cross-face. When Scipio finally locked a second submission—an armbar that hyperextended the elbow—Arax’s cry of pain rang off the stone walls.
Commodus ordered Scipio to penetrate Arax’s ass and deposit his cum deep into his bottom. Scipio plunged into Arax without lubrication and tore out sections of hair. He pumped his tool deep into the anus of his foe. The friction wore at the skin of the Athenian leaving red marks. Wanting to please the emperor Scipio pushed himself deeper and deeper until he had his balls bounce off the asshole. The cum began to rise and the nerves began to react. With a powerful thrust Scipio shot a massive white glob into the poor man. When he had finished pouring his semen into Arax he withdrew to the applause of the emperor.
Again, the emperor ordered them to fight on. The third exchange was shorter and harsher. Arax’s strength was fading. Scipio caught him in a standing front headlock, drove a knee into his gut, and dumped him to the sand. From there Scipio worked painful holds in rapid succession: a grapevine that twisted Arax’s legs, a tight chin strap that forced his head back, a reverse figure-four that made the Greek scream. Each time Arax tried to rise, Scipio put him down harder. The emperor leaned forward, eyes bright. “More.” Scipio obliged. He drove a shoulder into Arax’s solar plexus, then bit down hard on the thick muscle of Arax’s upper arm, grinding until the Greek bellowed and thrashed. When that hold broke, Scipio seized both of Arax’s wrists, pinned them behind his back, and forced him face-first into the sand while driving a knee between his shoulder blades. Arax’s voice cracked as he begged for release. Commodus only smiled and gestured for still more.
At last the emperor rose. “Bring him to me.” Scipio hauled the battered, gasping Arax across the sand and forced him to kneel before the imperial seat. Commodus looked the defeated Greek over for a long moment, then nodded once. “Hold his head on my penis.” Commodus removed his toga and exposed his cock. Scipio pushed Arax’s head on to the Commodus’ penis and forced him to suck the tool full length. Commodus smiled at the pleasure he felt from the mouth of this mighty gladiator, now just another imperial bitch. In a few seconds, Commodus began to respond to the action and he tensed as his orgasm engulfed him and ropes of white gold poured into the Athenian’s mouth and throat. “Good work, Scipio, excellent work.”
As Scipio withdrew Arax from the emperor’s penis, he pulled on Arax’s hair and brought him back so he could apply a sleeper hold. With studied precision he enveloped the neck and head of Arax and began to pressure Arax. He did not apply full pressure because he wanted this to last as long as possible for his own success and the knowledge that Commodus enjoyed this type of hold. Slowly Arax drifted into insensibility until he was dead weight in Scipio’s arms. Letting him fall Scipio looked at the emperor and saw a smile of satisfaction.
“Go on.” Commodus ordered. Scipio again began to mangle and destroy Arax’s body. Punches to the head and body, followed by knees to the gut further debilitated Arax. Dropkicks, chicken -wings, uppercuts with the forearm, body slams, piledrivers, and more created a wasted, limp, and helpless gladiator.
Commodus ordered, “Make him squeal.” Scipio raised Arax to his feet and lowered his own head to nipple level. He put his mouth on one nipple and bite down with all the strength his teeth could muster. Arax screamed at the top of his voice from the pain he was subjected to. “Great. More of the same.” Scipio immediately switched to the other tit with the same results. Blood flowed from both now mangled nipples. The emperor clapped at the sight and cheered Scipio for the beauty of the pain he inflicted.
“More”, demanded Commodus. By this time Arax was little more than a piece of meat beaten and battered by this superior wrestler. But Scipio would not disappoint his emperor. A torture rack bent Arax almost in half, bouncing and stretching the back to new levels of pain. A bearhug added to the back pain. A camel clutch added insult to injury with more back damage. Head stomps again and again rendered Arax practically unconscious. Elbow to the back, leg drops across the throat, crushing knee strikes, only made Arax look even more pathetic.
Commodus raised his hand to end the onslaught. Scipio halted his work. “Make him a eunuch.” Scipio loved this command. It gave him the sense of power over powerful men. Reducing them to the status of a half-man gave his own masculine nature a boost. Scipio pinned Arax against the wall of the arena, holding him up by the throat. Reaching down he put the ball sack into his hand and began to squeeze, at first, with a light touch but slowly began to increase the pressure until the balls burst in his hands. Putting Arax’s penis into his mouth he moved to sever the man tube. With cries and whimpers Arax suffered the humiliation of the loss of his manhood. In a few short minutes Scipio had achieved his purpose. He removed the penis from his mouth and rubbed it on the face of Arax. From start to finish Arax had screamed and wailed at volumes that scared the men in the plaza.
Commodus felt the excitement of the contest. He had been in the arena himself and was invigorated by the smell of blood and broken men. Coming onto the sand he took Arax by the hair and pushed Arax mouth to his nipples ordering him to suck them and make him feel excited. Commodus then once again pushed his penis into Arax’s mouth. He loved the warm moistness of the interior of the mouth. He pushed his penis down to the bottom of Arax’s mouth with what was the largest penis in Rome, a full foot. It entered Arax’s mouth, plunged down the throat, and reached the tube below. Arax gaged and coughed as the massive tool did its work. The explosion was imperial. Rope after rope of cum filled the mouth, throat, and stomach of the bashed gladiator. “Excellent majesty,” said Scipio. A complement never hurt in dealing with Commodus. Commodus had now entered the blood rage cycle. No stopping until every part of the target’s body was crushed, obliterated, dismembered. Commodus turned to the mangled nipples and began to saw them off with his teeth. Arax was in the throes of unbearable pain. Commodus was in his element, inflicting pain on a man’s body that was handsome, muscular, and attractive. His sadism was universally known. This was just another day for him.
Scipio had seen this before and he was enamored of his emperor’s strength and beauty of destruction. He knew when he fought before Commodus there was no limit to the pain and suffering inflicted. Commodus turned to Scipio and said to bring this to a close. Which meant, do more to destroy the lamb brought for the slaughter. With Arax in his grasp he grabbed the gladiator’s fingers and ripped them apart, leaving wounds between his fingers. He took Arax’s neck and gave it a massive neck breaker. Arax was no longer able to stand and collapsed at Scipio’s feet. Going down on the body of Arax he gave him a massive kiss and then stood with his foot on the chest in the victor’s pose. Commodus took Scipio into his arms and likewise kissed him with a long, passionate kiss.
“Enough. The victory is yours, Scipio. Take him as your slave.” Commodus turned and left the arena without another word. Scipio ordered Arax returned to the slave market. The Greek lay on his back, chest heaving, while the Egyptian stood over him in silence, the undisputed master of the sand.
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