Price of Freedom, The


By John

Sometimes the road to freedom is filled with some surprising twists. But, in any event, it is the only road to take to the goal. 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.

Two full lunar cycles had passed since the fate day between Caesar and Kal. Caesar had ordered the competition temporarily suspended and for their to be an appropriate mourning period for his son, Titus. The waning days of the summer season were upon them now and, with the coming equinox came the next major festival week. Caesar, in his wisdom and with his crafty political savvy, decreed that this would be the biggest and best celebration ever. Rome had mourned the loss and of its favorite son and must now show the Empire how to move forward.

Days were still warm but not as sweltering as they had been when the "Freedom Gladiators" (as they were now known) had last battled in the Coliseum. Parth, Borc and Saul had been swept from the field on Kal's last day as quickly as the archers had entered the arena to launch the first of their deadly arrows. Romans still spoke of Kal's majestic muscularity and his almost godlike ability for his granite hard muscles to deflect the arrows of Caesar's archers.

Caesar knew that he needed to redirect the thoughts and talks of his public away from Kal before they began to elevate him to the stature of a God. To that end, he had already spread the word that, as part of the equinox festival, a new Roman Champion would be selected from amongst a collection of gladiators even more perfect and powerful in build and skill than Kal had been and who were truly loyal to Rome and their Caesar. He also pledged to fulfill his promise to let one of the three remaining fighters finally earn his freedom.

Parth, Saul and Borc had been treated well during the delay period. Each had been provided with small but private quarters near the Coliseum and given training and exercise time. At his request, Borc's fiancé had been brought to him several times and, in spite of his best efforts, she steadfastly refused to make any specific marriage plans until he won the fight insisting that she could not live should they make arrangements for a wedding only to have her have to plan a funeral instead. She was a smart woman and, rightfully, knew that this would push Borc to stay focused and give him the drive to ensure a win for him and for them.

The stout gladiator threw all his considerable energies into remaining toned and ready for the fight. Most, including Borc himself, believed that, with Kal and Grom dead, there was little doubt that Borc's vastly superior strength and years of gladiatorial experience made him almost impossible to defeat. On training days, Borc would amaze the guards assigned to him with feats of strength that were almost beyond belief. Borc would have them shatter thick wood posts across his back, shoulders or chest. The dense wood cracked and splintered every time without having any noticeable impact on Borc's columned, barrel-shaped body. Then he would proceed to lift heavier and heavier sections of discarded stone columns up to chest height and, with just the power of his upper body and shoulders, push the huge weight stiff-armed over his head. There seemed to be no end to his legendary strength and word of his workouts pushed the wagering on the street well in favor of Borc as the ultimate victor.

Saul also amazed his guards with his unbelievable flexibility and lightning fast speed. Two months was a long time between fights and, because of his compact size, Saul knew the importance of keeping his body loose and practiced. His great flexibility came from endless hours of training so he spent more time than the other two combined in the training area working his body and entertaining those few lucky spectators in the process.

Saul was very much aware of how aesthetically athletic his tight body was and the effect it could have on others when they saw it pulled, stretched and lined with anatomically etched muscle. He was equally attuned to the draw that his cock could have when it was raised and flushed to its forearm-long hardened state of arousal (which was very often). With his background as a memorable circus celebrity, Saul was all too willing to perform no matter the size of the audience so he usually trained nude.

Whenever Saul practiced, the guards present would need to take turns sneaking off to a dark corner to relieve their own anxious cocks and to regain their composure from their lusts to possess his amazing body and cock. Saul enjoyed the effect he had on them as he forced his body into positions and shapes that both filed his need for exercise and was devastatingly erotic. The lined muscle of his moist ass sliced open in a perfect midair split with his heavy balls dangling invitingly below and his hard cock sweeping forward like a great balancing beam and his legs crisply etched with corded muscle always drew instant erections and, sometimes, spontaneous explosions of satisfying cum from the guards.

Saul knew his potential for survival would be dependent upon his ability to work with his own innate strengths. Speed, agility and surprise were his best tools and Saul intended to use them all in the final battle. Every morning was devoted to increasing his speed and flexibility through an endless series of swooningly beautiful contortions and muscle-etching sprints. Each afternoon he sharpened his body to hardened vascularity through definition enhancing exercise. Saul's nights were his private time to focus his mind with various ways by which he could challenge the larger muscle and power of the competition.

Those guards assigned to Parth had an equally difficult time. Week after week more rumors about Parth and what he was doing to his body spread further within the inner circles of Caesar's army. It wasn't long before these stories found their way through the baths and around the courts and villas of the privileged class. By the beginning of the second month gossip about Parth's body development and re-sculpting was even circulating through the street of Rome. Stories talked of how he had virtually ripped his body apart and was rebuilding it larger and, if possible, more cut than ever.

As the guards keeping an eye on Parth knew, most of these tales, that were actually started by them, were true. Parth embarked on a program of strict diet and massive muscle building. While he hoped that his skills as a marksman might prove valuable, Parth knew that he needed more than just that upon which to rely. He had no false hopes of becoming as strong as Borc but, with his god-given capacity to hone ultra-ripped hard muscle, Parth wanted to be in the best possible shape. He believed that, with increased bulk and greater stamina, he could outlast Borc and outmaneuver Saul. He aimed his training on his belief that the last one to tire had the best chance to become the ultimate victor.

The diet and training began to pay off almost immediately as he added considerable and noticeable muscle mass to his body very quickly. After several weeks of building bulk, Parth embarked on a stricter diet plan and greater amounts of cardiovascular activity that cut his body into one so ripped with muscle that even Saul's memorable anatomy seemed challenged. Parth was not quite as big as Kal had been but probably carried muscle at the same scale that had defined Grom's exciting body. His arms, shoulders and back were shredded spectacles of fibered muscle that always seemed fully charged and powerfully ripped. When Parth flexed his measurably enhanced pecs they rose into stunning multi-lined fans of ribbed meat stacked high and rich between the ever-present canyon of dividing cleavage and the broad flanks of outer meat.

Each of Parth's 8 chiseled abs sat across his flat lower torso like metal plates of hardened muscle each surrounded by their own sinewy moat of impenetrable definition. Fingers of muscle reached around his sides as his oblique and serratus muscles pulled his stunning waist to the front of each winged triangle of flaired lat meat. Parth's upper and lower leg muscles were so sharply cut that there seemed to be no muscle-softening thickness to the skin vacuum sealed onto their vein-fed cords of thundering meat. Even Parth's ever-hard cock seemed possessed with the same power and hunger pushing through his muscles.

Guards spoke openly about how Parth's body and face now surpassed the flawless beauty that had been Marco's signature. Above it all was Parth's ass. As amazing as it had been before, it was reported to be many times more desirable to see and feel now. On a couple of occasions Parth had been summoned and taken to the villa of a nobleman or secreted to a private bath where he had shared his sexual abilities with those who had heard of his spectacular recreation. Those who had gotten the chance to see and experience the new Parth in the flesh found the stories not only to be true but, according to more than one of them, understated.

For Parth, those few chances to get out for conjugal visits with Roman nobility served several purposes. First they gave him wanted and needed readings on the development of his body. Second, they were useful for rebuilding connections and relationships that might prove helpful in the future should he be victorious. Lastly, they were welcome opportunities to obtain sexual release. Parth's sex drive had always been high and he loved the feel of a hot hard cock pounding away into his ass while the invader caressed and explored the equally hard muscle covering his anxious body. The sensations Parth derived as he worked his sphincter and intestine like a fine, tight glove fitting perfectly over the tubed man-meat made his own ample cock pound with desire for release. Often Parth could achieve orgasm without ever needing to have his raging cock touched. Sometimes he could even force himself to cum over the chest and abdomen of his willing partner just as they erupted to fill him with their own warm, moistening cream. While Parth longed for a cock like Saul's huge organ, he could achieve satisfaction letting his ass suck the hot cream from any decently aroused cock and, if anyone's posterior could ensure the maximum in arousal, it was Parth's.

While Parth had a body and ass made for pleasuring, he did not possess the tactical genius of a great General or the political cunning of a Senator or Caesar. He was, however, smart enough to know how to play his body just publicly enough to his own advantage. During the last three weeks before renewed battle, Parth refused all requests which, as he hoped, served to increase the anticipation of Rome for his coming day of battle. By the day before the three remaining gladiators were to meet on the field Parth had cut the wagering lead on Borc as the probable victor almost in half and had assured that the stadium would be filled just by the sheer number of Roman's who were anxious to see this new "visual wonder".

On the morning of the scheduled battle Parth did not let down the curious audience as he proudly strode into the arena last. The statues of Caesar had not only been replaced, but they were twice the size they had been before and, instead of two standing back to back, there were now four with one facing in each cardinal direction. Caesar, himself, was also in place. He felt that his presence would signal the end of the period of mourning for Titus and his personal commitment for Rome to move forward with renewed vigor.

Saul was the first one in. His tightly defined body had been polished and oiled to perfection. He entertained the crowd with his gymnastic skills as he virtually flew onto the field with his naked body not much more than a whirling image that seemed to move faster than light itself. When he sprung high into the air in a final double summersault landing in an amazing full split with his hard cock pointing directly toward Caesar and his swinging balls perched a mere finger's width above the hard ground the audience went wild.

Leaning forward with his handsome torso cantilevered over the magnificent length of his piped cock, Saul pushed both palms flat onto the ground and lifted his entire body so that it was held suspended over and parallel to the ground with his huge cock head licking the soil. He continued to force his legs, ass and back upward until he had completed an inverted pushup. Then he spread his supple legs bringing them horizontal with the ground and splayed to each side of his tight waist. This position forced open the crevasse between his glistening ass cheeks in an open invitation for penetration by anyone daring and agile enough who wanted to try. In one graceful forward roll, Saul's feet tumbled over his perfectly defined torso as he powered himself upright and offered a precision salute to his Caesar.

Borc's entry was much less imaginative but no less stunning. His thick body pounded into the arena. Not even the light fur covering over most of his body could conceal the density of his stout muscular build. Borc was here for the battle and the victory, not for the showmanship. It was clear and evident just by looking at him that he had worked to make himself as strong and ready as possible. His chest rose and fell with the heavy signs of a man who had just come from an exhausting workout.

When Parth entered, the crowd grew suddenly silent. The tales of his re-honing of his body had created much expectation and anticipation. When Rome finally caught their first glimpse of his spectacular new figure, they were left speechless and awestruck. It was as if he had taken the best features of Kal, Dar, Grom and Marco and combined them into one superlative human creature. Parth sported the beauty of Marco and the dimensional spread between chest and waist of Dar. He accompanied these features with the visual scale of Grom's muscles and the ripped musculature they had last witnessed on the flexing body of Kal.

Parth had fashioned himself into a physical god amongst men achieving a perfect combination of size, virility and balance. Even his ample, hard cock, though not as huge as Saul's, seemed to be an absolutely appropriate appendage for him. Not wanting to leave the desiring audience unfulfilled, Parth moved into a gracefully choreographed and well-practiced posing routine. Every muscle flowed from pose to pose. Each movement ended to pause with Parth's body briefly focusing on one particular muscle or muscle group at a time.

First his legs carved themselves into a breathtaking display with cords of muscle ridged harmoniously together. Then his arms blossomed as high, full and hard monuments of superbly flexed muscle with promising power reminiscent of Grom's. Parth spread out a pair of lats as wide as the wings of a manta ray that tapered flawlessly to a waist several times smaller but reeking with strength. Next Parth vacuumed his wondrous abdominals while forcing his pecs to frightening thick continents of fanned muscle. The excited nipples cast shadows over the lower rounds of his undulating pec meat like a pair of markers on a sundial. Finally, a unified gasp escaped from the crowd at the sight of Parth's flexing ass muscles as they waved their invitation to be adored and consumed.

By the time Parth completed the almost too erotic display of his marvelous new body almost all memories of Marco, Dar, Grom and Kal had been pushed deeply into the past. Parth had recreated himself as a new wonder among men. Women swooned to possess him and men hungered to be like him (and many of them lusted to have Parth, too). Many in the audience were left filled with the hope and desire for Parth to win.

Caesar smiled at the caliper of the three remaining combatants and at their marvelous bodies, each so different and yet each so much the epitome of Rome. Saul, with his tight, compact figure. So supple yet filled with flexible dexterity and amazing speed. Plus, Saul possessed a cock as large, beautiful and powerful as the very essence of the Roman Empire. Borc was the rock-like foundation of Rome and it's invincible army. Solid and grounded; filled with seemingly endless strength, Borc was the type of man that made Rome a dependable protector and a worth opponent. Parth was the beauty and glory of Rome wrapped in the guise of a god. He was, at once, awesome to see and filled anyone who saw him with desire to be part of him.

This was the Rome Caesar had dreamed of building and these men represented everything for which he could have hoped. The smile left Caesar's face only briefly as the reality that two of them were destined to be sacrificed for the ultimate freedom of the third man. But, over the centuries, many fine soldiers had sacrificed themselves to help create the Rome of today. The smile returned as Caesar thought of the glories that the two doomed warriors would secure as they shed their blood on this field today – all for the benefit of Rome and its people.

It was time. The sun was moving high toward the noon sky. Caesar signaled and the great horns sounded announcing the call to battle for the three great gladiators. Only small hand weapons of metal that could wound but probably not kill along with wooden staffs and nets were permitted today. The goal was to force physical engagement and the weapons allowed had been purposed selected simply to help even- out the balance of battle potential between the three men. Caesar wanted the fight today to last. Quick deaths made for poor entertainment.

Saul had been no fool. He had spent many evenings in the interim period strategizing over various options for the fight. Once he saw that there were weapons of some typ available, he had positioned himself where he could get to them quickly and with the least chance of encountering opposition. Darting to the base of Caesar's statue he helped himself t a short, wide knife and the net. Almost before the other two had made their first move, Saul was back at his original position with his weapons in hand. Parth was next to the cache. He took a liking the feel and balance of the thick wooden poles and grabbed two as he charged by them to the other side of the arena.

At first Borc didn't think he wanted any weapons. He believed in the power of his own strength and body. Seeing that there was still a glimmering knife left on the ground, he moved in to get it. It lay on the side of the stone pedestal out opposite Saul's position and Parth was still in his charge away from the center of the arena. Borc edged as close to the knife location as he could keeping both men in constant view then, only when he absolutely needed to, he charged to get the knife out of Saul's line of sight. As quickly as he picked up the knife, Borc used the stone barricade to direct his great bulk to one side so that he could see Parth and Saul again.

Parth stood ready for attack tossing both long staffs in his hands as he carefully weighed and got familiar with them. The netting Saul had claimed laid spread open on the ground. A sudden swish of cool breeze blew past Borc's right side. A cold feel shot across the outer edge of Borc's right triceps. The cold turned almost immediately to pain as the straight cut line of the wound inflicted by Saul's passing became lined with leaking blood. It was a surface wound but it was painful enough. Angered, Borc turned in the direction of the moving wind to face his challenger.

Saul had counted on this reaction and was already within striking distance of the stout behemoth. The second passing left a similar wound sliced through Borc's left triceps. Borc's reaction was much quicker this time preventing Saul an easy third pass. He was angry and understood Saul's intent to weaken him slowly. Borc's fiancé was one the first on her feet as she witnessed Borc's hulking figure to be the first to sustain a wound. Borc, however, had been through way too many battles and had fought way too many fights to let two simple skin wounds diminish his determination.

Stepping back from Saul's crouched readiness, Borc wiped the blood from each arm; measuring the depth of penetration at the same time. The wounds would bleed for a while but, left alone, would clot on their own. He continued to back up. A ringing pain just below his right ear brought him to an unplanned stop. Splinters of wood sailed around his aching head as one of the two wooden shafts that Parth had secured shattered at the point of contact. Swinging the knife wide as he made one complete revolution, Borc could sense that he had caught at least a small part of Parth.

Parth's left hand and arm shook with pain from its encounter with the dense muscle covering Borc's lower neck and shoulder. Half of the wrist-thick wooden staff was gone. It ragged end only an arm's length from Parth's grasping hand. A line of blood about a hand width long paralleled the ridged striations across Parth's upper left pec. As with Borc, the wound wasn't deep but the bite of the knife left a painful burn in the stunningly etched muscle of Parth's thick, rigid breast. His flawless, bronze skin hide most the visual effect of the dripping blood from the easy view of the crowd but the red stain on Borc's knife confirmed that Parth's insane beauty had been marginally blemished.

The time that Parth had used to attack Borc from behind was just enough to give Saul a third chance. Diving toward the ground as he curled his supple body into a graceful tumble, Saul lashed out against the rock-hard columns of Borc's front thighs. His knife sliced a clean line over the surface of both monstrously huge rises of upper leg muscle getting stuck near the end in the flexed meat of Borc's left thigh. The friction of the action pulled Saul slightly off balance spinning his body hard onto the ground only a couple of body lengths from Borc's bleeding figure.

Intensely angered, the columned behemoth reached down a pulled the knife from his twitching leg muscle. Both cuts were deeper and more pronounced than those lining his triceps. Burning pain filled his thighs and hot fury filled his mind. The hard landing had temporarily driven the wind from Saul's lungs and left his head spinning feverishly. Working to control his emotions, it didn't take Borc long to figure out what was happening. Obviously Parth and Saul were working together against him hoping that they could buy a better chance for each of them by eliminating Borc in a combined effort.

Blood from Borc's leg wounds ran more freely and dripped thickly onto the ground. These wounds would need time to close but Borc did not have the convenience of time – unless he created it. The only way he could buy the time he needed for the wounds to close properly was to kill one of two insect-men flying about him and causing him great discomfort. Parth was bigger and obviously stronger. Saul lay ready at his feet; monster cock waving stiffly in the air above his impossibly small waistband; and still dazed by their last encounter. Borc chose Saul as his immediate victim.

Borc moved in on Saul's spread-eagle form. As beautiful as Saul's trim body was to behold, Borc's only interest was in seeing it dead. The leg wounds proved to be more burdensome than they had looked at first glance. Borc's knees wobbled slightly as he adjusted his movements to minimize any further damage to himself. Seeing Saul laying on the ground, Borc wanted to inflict as much pain as possible before squashing the life from him. At first he thought of slicing away at the connecting tendons of Saul's anatomically displayed muscles and leaving him to bleed to death. Then, noticing Saul's signature cock, he had a better idea. Borc tossed both knives to one side and, reaching down, grabbed Saul with one huge hand wrapped halfway down the forearm length of his glimmering cock shaft.

Small as he was, Borc still found Saul's body to be surprisingly difficult to lift. The density of muscle made Saul heavier than he appeared. Borc adjusted for this as he hauled Saul's screaming body up even with his own heaving chest; dangling from the searing pain shooting through the root of his towering cock meat. Momentary dizziness from the slow loss of blood through the open wounds made it uncomfortable Borc from lifting Saul any higher. As Borc dropped down onto on knee with the other bleeding upper leg extending out in front of his thick trunk, He slammed Saul's lower back across his waiting thigh. Saul screamed for a second time as the small muscles of his lower back met the metalized meat of Borc's upper leg.

Keeping as much control of his mind as he could, Saul, winding in pain, used Borc's leg as a lever thrusting his own legs high into the air with his nearer leg catching the side of Borc's head. Saul continued to roll his torso over and off of Borc's leg kicking back with one foot at the last second to chopping into the reeling gladiator's chin. Saul landed hard on the ground with his back in severe pain as was his towering cock and groin.

Borc let go of his catch as searing pain filled his lower jaw. He knew it was broken but he did not care. His only interest was to destroy Saul and put an end to his irritating little attacks. Borc knew that Saul's cock was in pain and decided to help relieve that pain by removing the columned meat from its connection into Saul's trim, shaved groin. Picking up one of the knives, he moved in on his prey. Saul's cock rose high, hard and ready. Borc smiled at the though of making it into a prize trophy of his victory. He reached out with his free hand and wrapped it around the surprisingly hard shaft just below the glowing crown. Raising the hand with the knife high, he took aim and swung the blade down swiftly.

The blade came up hard against intense resistance at the end of its swing. But it was the resistance of the thick ropes of the net, not that of Saul's cock.

Parth wrapped the main body of the net around Borc's head, arms and shoulder with the knife trapped within it. Then, holding onto the ensnarling net for all it was worth, Parth hauled Borc's dense body up and away from Saul's splayed figure. Spinning with all his might, Parth's huge, carved muscles turned into a rotating statue of hardened marble as he forced Borc into a dizzying spin. Even Parth was surprised and enamoured with the strength his fantastic new muscularity now possessed. He continued to spin like a great hammer thrower carrying Borc's reeling mass in faster and faster circles. Parth's body was a vision of great muscle in motion.

When he felt that he had built up enough speed and had moved them close enough to the pedestal base, Parth let go of his hold on the netting. Borc's body careened forward and smashed, headfirst, painfully into the upright rock of the pedestal. A portion of one corner disappeared in a puff of stone-dust and chips as Borc's density broke it away. Bouncing off of the pedestal, Borc continued to spin until his hurt and confused body crashed to the ground. The rope of the netting had saved him from having his head split open but the impact had been serious enough to send stars whirling around before his rolling eyes.

Borc had never experienced such pain. Rolling very slowly onto his chest, the lumbering gladiator forced his damaged body up onto all fours. He paused briefly to draw in a deep breath and to try to shake his head clear. Reaching up, he untangled his head and torso from the wrap of the netting and cast it angrily away. In addition to the still bleeding four knife wounds and the swelling around his broken jaw, several bluish-purple bruises covered Borc's upper body and head. As Borc prepared to rise, a new, searing pain exploded in him as his asshole seemed to be ripped apart from the inside.

Parth gave one more shove and then left the section of the broken staff protruding from Borc's bleeding ass. The splintered end was well inside the doomed gladiator. Even Borc could not deny the damage this invasion of his interior had probably caused but, still, he rose and turned to attack only to feel the wrath of Saul as the small, chiseled body drove one knife into each heaving, plated breast. Borc reached out to grab Saul in a chokehold but the gymnastic performer was too fast. Rolling between Borc's shaking legs and up behind his wavering form, Saul lashed out with a swift, well-aimed kick from his powerful leg forcing most the remaining exposure of wood shaft inside Borc's gut.

With one final glassy gaze toward where he believed his fiancé to be sitting the great, powerful gladiator crashed facedown, dead, to the ground. •

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