#gladiator!joel

He tosses away your veil and kisses you like he wants to devour you, tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth. You have felt your desire pooling since he touched you to pull you into the workshop and you open readily for him while pulling at the simple tunic he is wearing.

He shucks his clothes until he stands before you in only sandals and a few bandages. At the apex of his powerful thighs his dark phallus stands, slightly curved and demanding attention. Joel moves to recapture your lips, but you hold up your hand as your eyes rake over his bronze skin. Your hands move down his broad chest appreciatively and then move to feel his sinewy arms. Your fingers slip along the sheen of sweat that covers him. His skin is covered in scars, some gnarled and old and some pink and fresh.

He smirks and says “Does my little heretic need more of this ungodly cock? One taste wasn’t enough?” His hand holds your mound lightly through your clothes. You whimper and involuntarily rock forward seeking friction. “Have you touched yourself since I desecrated you?”

You bite your lip and nod. “Every night.”

Joel laughs and pulls away from your hands, lowering himself into a chair. “What did you think about, priestess?”

His hand moves along his cock at a hypnotic rhythm, pushing the skin up and down. The plump, shiny head appears and disappears. Your cheeks flush hot, but you cannot look away. You fiddle with the skirt of your clothes, aching for your core to be touched. “I remembered.”

He tuts and shakes his head. “You have to do better than that if you want to get it again. You must feel so empty, poor thing. What did you think about when you touched yourself in your goddess's house?”

The room is sweltering and smells like sex and your mind is starting to feel like syrup being poured into the tight container of this moment–nothing else exists. “I thought of your cock, hard and filling me. I thought of you rutting into me like a wild animal,” you say as you start hiking the white fabric up your legs. You’re practically panting by now. “I thought of the feeling of your body when you held me like I weighed nothing. I pressed the bruises you left and thought of being hurt and pleasured by you.”

Joel is smiling wickedly as you reveal your dripping slit. “Why don’t you come take what you want, kitten?”

Your Vestal clothes are too complicated to be worth removing so you gather the fabric in your hands and straddle Joel’s legs. Then with one hand you guide his raging hot member into your wet, eager cunt. He groans as you sink down his length until he’s fully sheathed in you. You pause and grip his shoulders as you get used to the size of his cock. You can feel every bit of him pushing against your walls, carving a place for himself.

Joel kneads your breasts painfully, making you clench down on the large adamantine cock inside of you. He clutches your braids at the nape of your neck and pulls you in for another hard kiss. His kiss is like a battle and he groans as you start fighting back with your tongue and gripping his wild hair with both hands.

The feeling of being stretched around him seems to spread through your body and there’s buzzing under your skin. He groans as you begin to raise yourself up and down. You wrap your arms around his neck so your entire body is pressed against him, desperate to be even closer, consumed by him.

Joel reaches under your clothes to grip your ass and helps you move faster. “That’s it, kitten–tight priestess cunt bouncing on my cock,” he grunts. His voice sounds a little broken.

He lifts you just long enough to lay you on the nearby table. You open your legs as wide as you can and moan when he hits that perfect place inside of you. He braces a hand next to your head and mauls your breast with the other. “Harder,” you whisper and he obliges.

“See how quickly the virgin priestess became a needy cockwhore,” he taunts. “Have you been worshiping your goddess in the temple with this dirty whore’s cunt between your legs?”

You nod. “That night when I tended the hearth, I could still feel you dripping out of me.”

Joel closes his eyes and moans at the image. He tugs at the ribbons hanging from your hair, he hadn’t taken them out this time. “You know they’ll kill you if you get caught, but you just need this cock so bad, don’t you?”

An obscene whimper escapes you. He finds the bruises he left on your thighs and presses, making you arch off the table. You can feel the tension building in your core. “Yes, so close.” Your fingernails dig into his back. Maybe you’ll leave your mark on him and add to his scars.

His hand grips your jaw and he forces you to look into his eyes. “Who does this cunt belong to?” he pants.

“You, I belong to you, Joel,” you say without hesitation.

“You want to come? What have you done to deserve it? I’m not so convinced you’ve given up your vows,” he smirks and winds your red and white ribbons around his fingers as he keeps rutting into you.

“I have, I have, I swear. Please,” you say breathlessly, scrambling for something he wants to hear. You feel like a supplicant begging for divine mercy. “I don’t worship the gods, I worship your cock. Your body is my altar.”

“That’s right,” he grunts in approval and reaches his hand down to massage your mound. The pressure on your clit makes the tension inside of you snap. Your eyes roll back in your head as waves of gratifying pleasure spread out through your limbs.

“Say it again,” you hear through the thick cloud that fills your mind. You mumble vows of devotion and prayers of gratitude to the only phallus that is holy to you. Distantly you hear Joel curse as he pulses inside of you.

As you ride out your orgasms, he places wet kisses on your neck and lightly scrapes the skin with his teeth. You know he wants to bite, but you can’t risk having to explain his mark on your skin.

Finally he rolls off of you and helps you clean up.

“I’ll see you soon, my Ariadne,” he says as he takes one last feel of your body while he brushes dirt from your clothes. “We’ll save our girl and leave this damned city.”

⚶ ⚶ ⚶ ⚶ ⚶

On the first morning of the Ludi Magni, you help prepare Ellie. She is antsy as she is dressed in complicated ceremonial clothes and seashells are braided into her hair, but she makes no complaints. Green ribbons are wrapped around her arms and adorned with flowers to appear as vines from a distance.

Then it is time to prepare the chariot for General Muncius. You coax Ellie out to watch. The first day she was with you, she was giggling at every depiction of a phallus she saw. She quickly became accustomed, however, as Vesta is “the phallic goddess” and her temple is filled with such representations. You believe she will still enjoy this however.

“General Muncius has won a series of battles against increasingly formidable odds,” you whisper as your sisters decorate the chariot with roses and metal tokens that will catch the sun.

“Duh,” Ellie smiles cheekily. “Even I’ve heard of Muncius. Everyone in Rome talks about him like he’s a demigod.”

You nod. “Normally, the emperor would appear himself for games of this magnitude. Everyone is excited to have General Muncius here though. It is said that he is the fiercest and wisest man in the land and quite beautiful too.”

Ellie gives a most undignified snort.

“His last victory was against a city that should have been impossible to take. He lost half of his men, but he captured it for the emperor.” You point to a pair of your sisters descending the temple steps carrying the symbol of the god Fascinus. “The Vestal Virgins have a special honor that is bestowed on only the most dominant warriors.”

Ellie devolves into a fit of giggles as they affix the large winged phallus to hang below the chariot.

⚶ ⚶ ⚶ ⚶ ⚶

Before the games begin, General Muncius leads the opening parade into the arena in his chariot. The phallus hangs ostentatiously beneath him. Dancers, musicians, horse riders, and performers dressed in costume follow him. There are also wagons laden with crops and valuable goods that will be delivered to the capital as a gift to the emperor. Finally, the procession ends with Vestal Virgins carrying perfumes and ashes and men carrying statues of the gods.

The entertainers spread out before the stands and perform to the raucous cheers of the crowd. At the center of the arena, the competitors already stand in columns. There are so many gladiators. As broad and strong as Joel is, there are several that would make him look small.

Nausea rises in your gut. Have you made a horrible mistake placing your faith in Joel’s capacity for violence? The odds are stacked against him. Most of these men are slaves who have been gladiators for years, honing their skills for exactly this.

You had asked to be one of the Vestals who walks among the competitors and annoints them with ash from Vesta’s hearth, hoping to get a glimpse of Joel. If all has gone according to plan, he has incapacitated and replaced one of the gladiators that was meant to be in the tournament. He had chosen as his target a murmillo, a type of gladiator that is heavily armed and wears a helmet that covers his face, in case anyone who knew him got too close.

You walk along the first row of fighters, smearing ash on their cheeks and murmuring blessings while your eyes flash about for a glimpse of the scarred bronze skin and menacing posture you’ve come to know so well.

The next gladiator takes off his helmet, and suddenly those shining river stone eyes are burning right into you. You almost stumble back, but somehow his presence balances you and holds you steady like you are wrapped in his arms though he has not even touched you.

As you wipe lines of ash along his cheeks and down the center of his nose, it finally registers that he is not wearing the armor of a murmillo. He carries a curved sword and a small shield and his helmet is adorned with a griffin. Your breaths quicken and it feels like the muscles in your chest are stretched taut, threatening to snap. Thraex gladiators are meant to represent Rome’s enemies and are pitted against the strongest fighters. They are meant to lose.

But Joel looks into your eyes with unwavering resolve. One corner of his mouth twitches, a hint at a ghost of a reassuring smile, and then you move on to the next fighter.

When all of the men are anointed, the entertainers stop and the crowd quiets down. A group of dancers dressed in greenery form a line across the tunnel entrance.

The master of games addresses the crowd with his booming voice. “A terrible calamity has stalked our city for months now. Its whispered warnings rattle our bones more and more often. It crawls closer everyday. Some scholars may tell you its arrival is inevitable, but you faithful know that the gods are merciful!” The crowd roars in agreement and takes several minutes to quiet again. “The oracle told us who would save this city and our holy emperor told us how.”

At this moment, the musicians start up again and the dancers at the tunnel part revealing Ellie. Your eyes immediately dart to Joel. He stands stiff as a board, but you can see his right hand rattling as if he is anxious.

Ellie is so small, swallowed up by the arena sands as she steps out of the tunnel. The dancers twirl around her and guide her way. She looks every bit the young girl, struggling to walk in the ceremonial garb while she chews on her lip and takes in her surroundings with wide anxious eyes.

“She was found in the wilds draped in vines,” the master of games narrates. You restrain yourself from rolling your eyes. “She was raised in a temple by priestesses. She is the purest innocent, unknown to any man.”

Some lewd sounds come from the crowd and Ellie startles, eyes darting around at the spectators. Every spectator in the stands seems to be leaning forward, straining to get a better look at their sacrifice, scrutinizing her against some arbitrary criteria for holy saviors. You wonder how many of them truly believe, and how many are just afraid of what it means if the prophecy is not true.

General Muncius meets her at the center while the master of games drones on about how the gods revealed her purpose to the emperor. He is handsome with his curly auburn hair and intelligent brown eyes. His jaw is clenched as he hands Ellie a torch and he seems to look everywhere but her face. Your stomach drops as you remember that despite all the stories you have heard of his heroism and kindness, he is here to send an innocent girl to slaughter.

He guides Ellie up a raised platform where a fire bowl sits. She dips the torch into the bowl and as the fire comes to life, the ravenous crowd roars in excitement for the games to begin.

⚶ ⚶ ⚶ ⚶ ⚶

You join your sisters and the General in the governor’s box overlooking the arena. The governor was quite put out to be relegated to a smaller box while Ellie is given the seat of honor next to General Muncius.

Ellie is more relaxed now that the focus is not on her. She watches the horse races with a smile as her legs swing back and forth in the large ornate chair. Muncius says little to her but orders the servants to bring her a steady stream of exotic foods and makes sure she gets more of what she likes.

Finally, the gladiator fights begin. The crowd becomes rowdier as blood splatters the sand. It is no longer common to fight to the death, but many of the injuries are gory.

“Holy crap!” Ellie says the first time blood sprays out like a violent rainbow from a deep wound. She takes no notice of the glare she receives from High Vestal Marlene and you doubt she would care if she did.

She continues to exclaim obscenities as the fights go on and you catch a small smirk on the general’s face.

“I wish Joel was watching with us. He’s a great fighter,” Ellie says suddenly between matches. She turns to Muncius. “Do you think he could join us tomorrow? I bet you two would have a lot to talk about. You’ve both done a lot of fighting.”

The general looks at her out of the corner of his eye. “You can see him after the Ludi. It would be too great of an insult to the governor if I asked him to join us.”

Ellie slumps back in her chair and goes back to grazing on figs and cheeses. You sit on a bench next to her chair and teach her about the different types of gladiators to distract her.

The crowd cheers for the murmillo gladiators as they are meant to and they are victorious in most of the matches. When a Thraex wins one match, he is rewarded with a cacophony of boos. Every muscle in your body feels tense. It is not enough for Joel to win his match. In order to be chosen by the High Vestal for the champion fight, he must win the crowd.

It is out of your hands now. You gave him the string, now he has to slay the minotaur.

You recognize Joel instantly when he comes out. Even hidden by his griffin helmet, you recognize the casual way he stands with one leg cocked out while he is introduced to the crowd as “Justin of Lycia”. Though he wears some armor, his bronze chest shines in the setting sun. The belt and loincloth he wears leave his thighs as strong as marble bare.

You notice Ellie squirming in her chair. “Kim, why don’t you take Ellie to the latrine?” you ask one of your sisters who has no stomach for watching the fights. She may not know that it is Joel on the sands, but you do not want her to watch in case the worst should happen.

You move to the front of the box and stand next to High Vestal Marlene to watch.

This is your first time seeing Joel fight and you understand why Ellie speaks of it in awe. His opponent is bigger and carries a large shield that he bashes with as he attacks. But Joel’s passion and ruthlessness dwarf everyone you have seen fight today.

The murmillo presses in and slices Joel in the side with his sword. Cheers reverberate through the arena.

Without flinching, Joel puts all his weight into pressing closer and reaches around the large shield with his curved sword to jab at the other gladiator. The opponent cries out and swings his sword at Joel, but he dodges it as he backs away.

Both fighters separate to gather themselves for the next assault. Lines of blood trickle down Joel’s ribs, but the incision does not look serious. You breathe a sigh of relief when you see the other gladiator’s wound is on his stomach. It is not enough to defeat him just yet but blood flows out of him. You silently pray to gods you don’t believe in that his lifeforce is drained quickly leaving him weakened.

The men prowl in the arena sands like beasts circling and watching for just the moment to pounce. Joel twirls his sword and adjusts his hold on his much smaller shield.

“You should go see a healer!” he shouts loud enough to be heard over the crowd. “You’re bleeding like a stuck pig before the real fight’s begun!”

There is booing, but as you look closely at the spectators you see them smiling and laughing as they jeer. They appreciate his theatrics playing into his role.

“I will defeat you with the might of Rome!” the murmillo cries.

There is little response to his unimaginative reply which appears to agitate him. He rushes at Joel who coolly steps out of the way, earning a surge of laughter.

When he turns to try again, Joel charges to meet him with a strangled cry that makes you clench around nothing.

Their shields collide with a savage clash. Joel is knocked brutally hard on his back and the other man tumbles after him, pinning him down. You ball your fists so tightly you think you might break your hands.

Their swords whip around hacking at each other and it’s hard to see what is happening in the flurry of their limbs and twisting bodies.

Then Joel rears his sword back and thrusts towards their tangled legs. A frightening cry like a wounded animal rings through the arena. Both men scramble away from each other and stand. The crowd begins roaring with cheers and laughter.

The murmillo is limping badly having been stabbed above the knee. Blood is smeared all over Joel’s chest and you nervously scan him for injuries. You find a gash in his shoulder worryingly close to his throat. When your eyes travel lower you discover what has the arena riled up.

Joel’s belt and loincloth have come off in the scuffle and his cock juts out stiff and engorged, like a weapon of its own. You press your thighs together staring at the plump head that’s enticingly angry and red.

Howls and whistles come from around the arena.

“I’ll take the one with the horse cock!” a woman shouts, riling up the crowd even more.

You glance at Marlene out of the corner of your eye, her brow is furrowed as she stares at Joel.

“Perhaps it is a sign,” you whisper. She looks at you questioningly. “That he is favored by the gods.”

She frowns. “Why would the gods favor a Thraex?”

Both men are breathing hard and have discarded their heavy shields. Joel approaches cautiously and the murmillo readies his sword.

Joel lunges in a few times and the other man is surprisingly able to block most of his blows, but he is obviously weakened and begins swaying on his feet.

“Is this your champion?” Joel yells, his rough voice bouncing off the walls of the arena.

He launches another offensive with all his strength and an erotic strangled cry. He knocks the murmillo’s sword out of the way and shoves the exhausted man flat on his back. He steps on the wrist of his sword hand until he releases.

Joel rests his sword under his opponent’s chin and looks up to the stands. “IS THIS THE MIGHT OF ROME BENEATH MY HEEL?” he shouts loud enough to silence the crowd. Then to your shock, he grasps the base of his still rigid cock. “OR DO I HAVE THE MIGHT OF ROME RIGHT HERE IN MY HANDS?”

The arena erupts in cheers and howls of laughter. Only then does Joel look up at General Muncius. He signals with his hand to spare the life of the defeated gladiator.

Marlene turns and gives you a considering look. “Perhaps you are right.”

⚶ ⚶ ⚶ ⚶ ⚶

Sorry this took forever! I hope it was worth the wait.

Some notes: Ancient Rome invented truck nuts, I didn't make that up. "I'll take the one with the horse cock" is a quote from the show Spartacus and I knew I had to use it lol.

Likes are nice, but comments and tags feed my soul! What did you think of the fight scene?

He tuts and shakes his head. “You have to do better than that if you want to get it again. You must feel so empty, poor thing. What did you think about when you touched yourself in your goddess's house?”

The room is sweltering and smells like sex and your mind is starting to feel like syrup being poured into the tight container of this moment–nothing else exists. “I thought of your cock, hard and filling me. I thought of you rutting into me like a wild animal,” you say as you start hiking the white fabric up your legs. You’re practically panting by now. “I thought of the feeling of your body when you held me like I weighed nothing. I pressed the bruises you left and thought of being hurt and pleasured by you.”