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Price of Freedom, The
|How much is freedom worth to a man? And how much muscle, strength and cunning does it take to earn that freedom? This tale is set in a period of history where entertainment and violence were often interchangeable terms. Please note that this story may contain acts of gay sex and violence. If this does not appeal to you, please do not read.|
|The Nubian was the last of the men to be delivered to the Coliseum
for the much-touted battle for freedom on this first day after the
ides of June. The rising sun had promised a hot day for the
gladiatorial fight. The presence of Caesar at the arena along with
the extraordinary variety of well-known men in the competition this
year promised a capacity viewing audience for the entire three day
Many of the thousands who had not been connected or lucky enough to get into the Coliseum on this first day lined the path that led from the majestic Egyptian ship upon which the Nubian had traveled and the arena just to get a glimpse of this fabled black giant. His wrists and ankles had been shackled to the heavy wooden frame of the cart hauling him to the battle site with his hands bound to each side. Proud defiance made him stand as he was paraded through the streets instead of huddling on the small rough platform of the cart. Anger filled his lungs and a keen sense of showmanship pushed the gossiped uniqueness of his naked body to be prominently displayed.
Dark, sweat-shined skin reflected the direct light of the sun from his sharply cut, lean features. The Nubian carried no signs of any fat on his long body. His tight waist and long torso was lined with sharply separated muscle. His linear biceps were crisply defined; the outline of his spring-loaded triceps were clear beneath his skin; and his broad shoulders were well rounded with capping deltoid muscle. His oblique and serratus muscles stood sharply etched on each side of his flatly defined individual abs. Well-defined leg muscle pushed his legs just past being thin in relation to his height. He was almost two heads taller than the average Roman citizen but that was not what lured the spectators to see him the most. It was the legend of his cock that caused both men and women to swoon with fear-filled desire and envy.
The monstrous organ was as long as the length of a man's forearm and outstretched hand. If it were soft, the fat, cut head would have hung below his knees. In its wrist-thick, display-hardened state, it sprung up and down with each severe jolt of the cartwheels over the bumpy stone roadways. Each time it shook, his cock became harder and more visibly excited. Mothers did their best to shield the eyes of their curious children; many of whom were pointing and asking very uncomfortable questions of their parents. The Nubian did not care about any of this. All he sought was the chance to get to his destination and achieve his freedom.
He did not belong here and did not want to be here. He had been betrayed by one of the wives of his Pharaoh. Caesar had seen him on his last visit to Alexandria a couple of years ago and had asked the Princess to let him have the Nubian then. She had refused then but, apparently, made a deal to send him to this battle in exchange for a pair of muscular Roman slaves she desired. He knew his cock was most unusual. Not only was his cock larger than anyone here had ever seen, it was reputed to be as hard as a rock when totally aroused. In fact, because of its size and stiffness, it was more like a deadly weapon than an organ for reproduction. Several male enemies of Egypt had crossed to the next life by being impaled by that gut-puncturing monster-cock. The Nubian enjoyed his reputation as much as he enjoyed the power of his cock engaged in anal intercourse. Male or female did not matter to him, he considered the recipient of his majestic cock as merely a vessel to serve his need for personal sexual release.
The Nubian intended to use his Gods-given weapon today to secure his freedom from both his Roman captors and his Egyptian Princess traitor. He knew that facing so many men on one day would be a challenge to his sexual prowess, but his masterful cock and powerful sex drive had yet to let him down. His bouncing cock jumped harder along the way to the Coliseum as he imagined it invading the waiting interiors of the light-skinned gladiators and foreign slaves he was scheduled to face today. He smiled his silent visions of their tight clasping asses tasting their ultimate defeat skewered by his cum- spewing cock.
The horses were pulled to a stop immediately outside of one of the gateways leading directly to the field of the arena. The Nubian was unchained and six metal-chested Roman guards surrounded him as they used the points of their spears to guide him into the dark tunnel toward his destiny. Just when his eyes had finally become adjusted to the darkness, pair of well-built Centurions swung open the heavy wooden doors at the opposite end of Caesar's viewing platform letting the blinding light of the filled arena spill into his eyes. He stepped proudly forward without the need to be prodded further and into the growing roar of the capacity-filled stadium.
The crowd cheered as the tall, dark challenger entered the field with his humongous erection leading the way. An audible gasp arose as more and more viewers focused onto the enormity of the great black cock and apple-large balls poling from the groin of the tall, lean Nubian like a veritable battering ram of man meat. All six competitors on the field stood naked and exposed to the world. Only the black man sported a ready erection. The other five were all very well known to the crowd and all very different in look and composure. As the audience awaited the entrance of the Caesar's personal champion, they continued to assess the six men already assembled for their fight to the death.
Nearest the Nubian traveling in a clockwise direction was the shortest of the men. His long, waving blond hair defined his far northern barbarian origins. His carved, staunch facial features were as severe and hard as the rest of his stunning body. The particular narrowness of his heavily muscled waistband made his upper body look all the more densely constructed. His large areola and pointing nipples made the multi-lined thickness of his chiseled pectorals deliciously inviting. The great mounding capping of rich muscle atop each striated shoulder bespoke of his great upper body strength. His legs were as fiercely carved with muscle as his muscle-laden torso. His butt muscles, while extremely well defined, were the only part of his body that seemed too small for the vastness of muscle flexing over the rest of awesome figure. Even though he was a head and a half shorter than the Nubian, there was no doubt that all the dense muscle covering his body made him just as heavy. His most astounding asset was his fantastically muscled arms and forearms. His upper arms were perfectly formed and his biceps swelled to amazing peaks of stone- like meat when he raised them. Each flexed upper arm was almost as big around as his head. A finger-thick vein fed into the power and beauty of his stupendous arm muscle and branched out ravenously across and around his leg-thick forearms.
His name was Grom and the anger on his stubbled face extended deep into the deadly cores of every superbly formed muscle. His hands and arms had brought death to many challengers in the gladiatorial arenas of the Empire for almost eight years since he had been captured while leading a raid from a northern border area. While he probably should have been killed then, one of the Centurion commanders took a liking to the muscular brutality of his vast body. When Grom refused to respond to the advances of the Roman soldier, he was turned over to a gladiator school for use in training. Instead of a swift death as a practice target, he proved to be a great fighter and had become a popular enemy/gladiator in arena combat.
Today Grom fought, like the others, for his ultimate freedom. Victory for him also promised the chance to be returned to his homeland. To this day, Grom had been able to forbid penetration of his greatly muscled body by any man's weapon or hungering cock. He was disgusted by the seemingly universal acceptance by Romans to share perverted intercourse between men. In his mind, his 8" cock was designed and intended only to serve his lust for voluptuous homeland women. He was as committed to victory today as he was to his unspoken pledge to return someday to defeat Rome with a new northern army.
Next to Grom and at a right angle to the Nubian was Saul. He was, by far, the smallest of the men offered up today. Saul had volunteered to be in this battle so that he could win his freedom from the circus and its vile owner for which he was forced to perform. Saul had tried to escape several times, but his fame for his gymnastic strength flexibility and skills had always betrayed him back into the clutches of the brutal circus owner. Saul saw freedom as his only possible long-term hope. The fat, disgusting circus owner had raped him for the last time. Saul was also the only competitor today who was fighting for the freedom of his male lover as well as himself. Caesar himself had accepted this arrangement just to have the draw of the crowd that Saul's fame promised to bring to this battle.
Of all the bodies present, Saul's was the most anatomically cut figure. Only a fraction taller than Grom, he also weighed in at only about 2/3 as much as the equally short northerner. Saul's body looked fantastically athletic. He was capable of amazing feats of strength for his size and was lightning fast. Saul entertained many audiences with his ability to whip through inverted pushups and to suspend his entire body in midair with no apparent effort by his solidly outstretched arms extending to each side. In that famous position, the sharpened meat of his pecs and shoulders became so ripped and striated that their supporting surfaces looked like multi-lined cables of hardened iron instead of simple human muscle. His ability to contort the beauty of his tight body through the gift of well- practiced flexibility was equally compelling and erotic to witness. Many had seen Saul's naked positioning of his muscle-carved legs pushed into a perfect, horizontal, ass-defining split with his entire torso suspended in midair between two distant planks and his swinging balls and cock offered like great ripe fruits. He and his lover had discovered many amazing ways to share in their muscle-defining love making passions that almost defied belief. The sight of the huge Nubian cock reluctantly triggered Saul's organ toward erection. His well-known, forearm-long organ would prove to be only second in aroused fullness to the massive black cock-weapon.
There was a wide gap between Saul and the next combatant that moved the circle of men beyond the line of Caesar's empty viewing station. Marco was next in the ring of waiting men. Without a doubt, Marco was the most beautiful in face and figure of all those assembled on the field today and, maybe in all of Rome. He stood halfway in height between Grom and the Nubian. The Gods could have created his body and face themselves as the very model for ideal of Roman perfection. His classic proportions still glowed with that of a blossomed youth though he was into his 30th year of life. His skin was as silky and unblemished as any ever dressed onto the figure of the human male. Marco's arms, chest, waist, ass, back and legs were all flawless in flowingly muscular balance. He sported the smallest waist of any of the competitors and it would have given him a slightly feminine look were it not for the straight narrowness of his inviting hips. Except for the generous brown curls of hair on his head, he kept his body completely shaved. This made the generous length of his rapidly hardening cock and ample testicles only add to the overall effect of his beauty.
Marco was in love with the brother of his owner. His owner had made a great deal of money by selling Marco's services to gladiators, soldiers, politicians and the wives of the wealthy and powerful. Marco was as good at sharing his cock with others as he was at sharing his anal passage. It was an attempt to prevent further family derision between the two wealthy brothers that brought Marco here today. Whether he won or lost, Marco's lover had agreed to pay two year's income to his brother. If he won they could finally live together with complete freedom. The owner-brother was a shrewd businessman and knew that it would only be a few years before the desire for Marco's body began to wane. He wanted the money to buy a new younger beauty. Marco was tired of his role as a whoring play toy for the wealthy Roman elite and was convinced that only freedom or death would make him happy again.
Nearest to Marco was a man that, based on his reputation, none of the others looked forward to fighting today. Borc was built like a thick stone column of a great temple. His barreled chest sat solidly atop his wide but harshly muscled midsection. Borc's massive thighs continued the columnar look of his vein-encrusted body. Even the huge roundness of his lined calves supported the image of unimaginable strength. Borc had almost 15 years of battle success in the gladiator arena. He was only 5 years older than Marco, but he had decided it was finally time to move on and make a family. He had pledged as much to a woman but knew he needed the money that a victory today would bring to give him sufficient comfort to accompany his independence. Like Grom, Borc had no interest in the activities between men that so many of his fellow Roman's seemed willing to share. His mind was simple and linear – win, marry, children.
Borc's strength was as legendary as Saul's flexibility and Marco's beauty. Many watching today had seen wooden posts as thick as tree trunks splinter in contact over his back or chest. His legs had crushed a long list of previous challengers to death. His cock was the shortest of those present and, probably the thickest but, since he had no interest in any of the other fighters, except possibly the beautiful Marco, sexually, that was of no importance to Borc. He stared repeatedly and intently at Grom. The blond northerner was the only person to ever have inflicted any wound on Borc's body. The memories of the pain seared through Borc's scarred right side as he watched the hugely muscled blond pump and curl his massive arms to readiness.
Parth was the last in the circle of men presently in the arena. His body was a complement to the beauty of Marco. They were about the same height, but Parth carried considerably more well-defined, thick muscle on his sculptor-chiseled form. If Marco was the epitome of overall Roman beauty, Parth was the paragon of carefully honed muscular beauty. Many of his body dimensions were the same as Grom's but, because of Parth's taller stature, his chiseled muscularity was more dispersed over his longer and fuller bone structure. Unlike Grom, Parth was only interested in sharing himself with other men. He was also a very, very creative love-maker. This had made him very popular with sex-starved gladiators and soldiers.
It was that very popularity that brought Parth here today. Unknown to Parth, he had become the third leg in a love triangle between two very high-ranking politicians who did not want to become known for their sexual persuasions. They both had wives and had managed to make Parth the public scapegoat, painting him as a calculating homosexual bent on destroying their good names. Their efforts to redirect Parth's "lies" worked and had gotten him assigned to this battle. Both of those other men figured that Parth had little chance of winning but, if he did, at least he would be gone from them.
Of all of Parth's physical assets, it was the spectacular striated glory of his ass that caught the most attention from the leering eyes of others. It was significantly meatier than Saul's stunning posterior and succulently formed with cut and shapely muscle. His capacity to swallow the largest of cocks within his rectum was well understood in knowing circles. His ass cheeks had shown their amazing stone-hard form as they reacted to the first sight of the monstrous Nubian cock. Parth's body still quaked with thickly defined muscle as his mind tried to absorb the sensual and physical damage that the wondrous dark cock meat of the rigid Nubian could do.
Horns sounded the entry of Caesar, his eldest son and their principal wives. The audience rose to its feet as they all hailed the presence of the royal contingent. Walking to his centrally located throne, Caesar signaled his acknowledgement and beckoned his subjects to take their seats. His head wife sat on his left and his handsome son to his right. Fanning servants went to work immediately over them to keep them cool.
The brightly colored covering encircling the roof of the Coliseum hung unmoving in the stillness of the hot day but, at least, afforded shade for most of the spectators. Caesar viewed the selected competition for this years fight with an approving smile. His face showed the political wisdom and genius that had made him Caesar. It was this exact face that had been used to model the two larger-than- life bronze statues of Caesar that stood atop a man-high stone pedestal in the center of the arena. These two matching images stood back to back facing in opposite directions and at right angles to Caesar's station. This way, Caesar seemed to be watching everyone in the audience and towered over the field of battle like one of the legendary gods. At Caesar's signal, a second round of horns called Caesar's Champion out to join the other combatants.
Kal entered through an opening directly below Caesar's stand. The roar of the lusting crowd lasted many minutes as they greeted this most-phenomenal creature. Kal saluted the statues of Caesar as he entered then he turned to offer his salute to the real Caesar. Kal's naked body was saturated with shadow-casting dense muscle. His proportions were colossal in scale when compared to every other competitor and, in their own way, made him as staggeringly beautiful as Marco. Not an inch of his being was free of brilliantly formed muscle. In spite of their size, every muscle was anatomically etched onto his being and his tanned skin, rich with a network of density- enhancing veining, seemed vacuum-sealed directly onto the meat of his muscles. Turning, Kal raised one massively carved arm to honor his Caesar and then, turning back, flexed both arms to the wants of his waiting audience.
His biceps fissured into great spheres of peaked meat a hand-width larger around than Grom's but no less densely defined than the deeply cut smaller muscles proudly spread over Saul's figure. Kal's lats flew out from each side making his upper torso more than twice as wide as his chiseled waistline. His thunderous thighs were saturated with deftly defined muscle that continued in its stunning scale and shape through his balled calves and down the great tendons of meat to his anchored naked feet. Kal twisted and flexed to the taunts and cheers of the audience knowing that his display of huge muscle would send appropriate notice of his intent to be victorious, as always, to the other naked fighters in the arena. His own flexing filled his body with a sense of strong power and erotic desire. As he simultaneously contorted his massive muscles for the crowd and eyed his competition, his cock grew thick and hard until it was only a few fingers shorter in length than Saul's but as thick as Borc's promised to be and as rigidly anchored as the Nubian's looked.
Kal was a man's man. He was also the dream of every woman who wanted to ensure that her children would be the best that Roman heredity could offer. Kal had happily bedded many, many handsome, muscular men. He had also, over the past twelve years, fathered nine boys and four girls for noblewomen at great profit. Five of his boys were already in training under the watchful eyes of Caesar's eldest son, Titus, to become his own private guards when they came of age. It was the promise of the handsome next Caesar that brought Kal to the battlefield. The handsome young Roman prince was only interested in men and was secretly suspected of keeping Kal as his personal sex- slave. If Kal won, he was promised something more valuable to him than his freedom. Instead, Titus had promised him that he could father the next male to be in line to become Caesar following him. Titus needed an heir and needed the Empire to believe that it was his own son. He wanted Kal to be the father and Kal wanted his blood flowed in the veins of a Caesar.
After several minutes of flexing for adulation, Kal assumed a readied stance expecting Caesar to call for the battle to the death to begin. The rules were very simple. All the men present would fight one another, naked, using only their own power and the few weapons that were piled in the center of the huge arena. Victory or death were the only options and the last man living, except for Kal, would be rewarded with his freedom and Caesar's weight in gold. The battle would include three days of fighting with one day of rest in between each battle day.
There were many other events also planned for the annual celebration but the "Battle For Freedom" was considered by most to be the main attraction. The chance to see the strongest, bravest and most muscular men in naked, gladiatorial combat always drew great crowds. The field for this year was one of the best in years and it promised to be filled with brutal beauty in action, muscle-ripping blood- letting, and aggressive man-to-man sex.
Caesar was a wise and devious politician. Instead of standing to start the contest, he signaled to a pair of guards still on the field of battle by a gate near Parth. They opened the gate and another man was pushed into the arena. At first sight, the fantastically muscled body appeared to be a very close copy of Kal. In actuality, it was Kal's training partner and, unknown to most, his lover. Over their shared decade, Dar had become almost as magnificently muscled as Kal. They worked hard on and with each other to create their very special bodies. They knew every inch of each other's magnificent figures and understood their lover's vast strengths and potential weaknesses. The only measurable difference between them was that Dar's cock was about the same size as Grom's, however, his balls were a handful larger than Kal's
Caesar's spies had made him aware of the arrangement offered to Kal by Titus and he hated that his son was unable to perform with a woman. Caesar believed that the bloodline of his family needed to be kept pure. He also knew of Kal's passionate relationship with his training partner, Dar. It was time to show Titus just who was Caesar here. In Caesar's eyes, Kal was becoming too popular and he no longer cared if Kal lived or died. If he lived, it would be with the death of his lover. If he died, it could be at the hand of his lover. Either way, it would be good, good fun. If Kal was victorious, Caesar had every intention of ordering him killed anyway so that his subjects would understand the power of a Caesar over the power of a man's muscle – no matter how fantastic that muscle was.
Kal tried to conceal his shock at the sight of his lover in the their midst. The eight magnificent men shifted and jockeyed around at their locations as they awaited either Caesar's signal to begin combat or his next surprise. Titus sat red with embarrassment and anger realizing what his father was doing with Kal and Dar. As much as he wanted to leave, his position and rank forbid any such gesture. His father had known that he would be forced to watch as his stunning love-slave fought against his own lover. Titus was as unaware as Kal of the final plans Caesar had for the champion if he was victorious.
Caesar had no more surprises for the moment. It would be a hot and bloody day. The fight would continue today until two of the men standing and waiting for his signal were dead. Caesar raised his hand and nodded for the bugles to sound the start of the deadly battle.
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