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Klancy7's Fan Fiction
In Caesar's Hands
(Disclaimer: This story contains explicit, non-consensual sex between men and captive women.)
In Caesar's Hands
"I reckon she's cozy enough."
"Should be. I never used them padded cuffs on no one before. He don't want to bruise her none, eh?"
"Best not." The centurion rested his elbow on the shaft of his sword and regarded the naked young woman tied to the platform on the other side of the camp.
The scaffold had been tipped at one end, so the sheepskin-covered surface reclined. It sloped enough that the girl wasn't hanging by her wrists, but not so much that her body couldn't be fully displayed to the forested ridges above the camp. The bright gold light washing over her nakedness was provided by the two bonfires that bracketed the frame. Caesar wanted this exhibit to be seen, obviously.
The second centurion dug his finger in his ear, watching the girl's head turn on the folded cloth as she tried to recapture the vanishing tendrils of sleep. Then he spotted something in the dust by his feet. He bent, and made a snatching motion, capturing the scurrying lizard in his palm. A lucky catch.
"You couldn't have done that again two tries out of ten, ass," the other guard chuckled.
"I know. It's a sign." The centurion stood up, stiffly, and stepped over his friend to trot toward the platform.
The other guard jumped to his feet. "Hey. The order is hands off. Remus!"
"Shut up, it's time to reposition her, anyway." The hulking soldier tiptoed up to the scaffold, where the young woman was coming fully awake. Grinning, he reached over and dropped the lizard on her flat belly.
Gabrielle jerked so hard it might as well have been a scorpion, even as her mind told her this small creature was no threat. It was too late. It was the movement she made that the centurion wanted. She knew how she'd looked when the dry claws of the lizard hit her skin, how violently she had arched her back, giving them a fuller glimpse of the furred darkness between her thighs. Gabrielle shifted in her bonds and the lizard fell over her side, dropped off the frame and scurried into the darkness.
"Ah, I'm sorry, sweetheart. Did I scare you? . . . . I know, I know, hands off." The centurion sounded annoyed with his buddy as he rested one elbow on the platform beside Gabrielle's pinned wrists. "Hoo, looks like I might have lit a little fire in there, hon. Looky them titties, Justus, them sweet little tits just a-shaking. And the nipples are coming up real nice too."
"Well, look, but don't touch unless you're positioning her." Justus glanced around uneasily.
"Posing time!" The centurion's face lit up.
The other man shrugged, nodded, and together the two soldiers lowered the platform until it lay flat, about waist-high, between them. They unfastened the padded manacles around Gabrielle's wrists and ankles, chuckling when she brought her knees together, concealing herself in a spasm of relief. Thor's hammer, this was a juicy young thing. This warlord Caesar was so rabid over, this Xena, was one lucky bulldyke.
"Lessee, missy, want us to stand you on your head? Let these jugs flop down over your face for awhile?" The larger centurion wedged a meaty forefinger under Gabrielle's right breast and bounced it a few times.
"I guess I'll call you Lizard," The bard said quietly. "I look forward to hearing your nose pop under Xena's boot, Lizard."
Gabrielle gritted her teeth as her nipple was pinched, and twisted.
The gloved hand fell away from Gabrielle's breast, and the two centurions came to immediate attention as Caesar stalked into the firelight. The small man's gimlet eyes measured Gabrielle's face, then fell to her right breast, capped by a nipple that swelled and pulsed.
Gabrielle stared into the austere face, and in her mind she saw Xena convulse in agony as her legs were broken by this man's command. Her green eyes went flat with hate.
Caesar stopped, frowning. It was a look he didn't see, often, on the faces of the prisoners whose lives he ruled. This ridiculously nubile little blonde looked nothing like Xena, but that expression of defiance was pure warlord princess. He thought of what he'd want to see done to Xena herself at this moment.
"Turn her over on her belly."
The centurions dared sneak a glance at each other. They were not, apparently, about to be executed for ignoring prime orders. They hastened to follow Caesar's command, grabbing the thrashing girl and rolling her over onto her stomach.
Caesar unclipped his cape, and flipped it into a thick roll. "Put this under her, so that her hips rise up over it."
"No." Gabrielle couldn't believe the word escaped her, but she was too busy to worry about it. The men were just too strong. They lifted her with insulting ease, ignoring her spitting struggles, and wedged the rolled bundle beneath her. When they tied her wrists again, she lay face down, her bottom swelling over the rise, her thighs clenched together so tightly they trembled.
"Spread your legs apart, Gabrielle, I want Xena to be able to see your private parts glisten in the moonlight. Bring your knees as high up on either side as you can."
"Look. I can't stop her from killing you." The downy globes of Gabrielle's buttocks tightened, and her voice trembled in spite of herself. "But stop this, now, and prevent more bloodshed than even you -- "
Caesar was already moving. He skewered his long fingers methodically between Gabrielle's legs, at the base of her thighs. Gabrielle grunted in shock as his hand plowed between her sweat-slicked thighs and slithered through her inner lips, searching.
"Do it, girl. Spread them." His fingers found her clitoris and closed around it, pinching. No tentative groping, just his thick fingers squeezing the nerve-rich nub, until she jerked her legs apart. She felt the burning on top of her feet as they dragged across the woolskin, her knees darting up almost to her elbows.
Caesar straightened, sliding his hand from the bard's exposed vulva. He wiped his fingers on his breastplate distastefully, watching as the girl's legs were manacled in place. "Remember to change her position three times during your watch. I want the warrior to see her lover's body manipulated at my command." Then the Roman spoke softly, as if Xena were there beside him.
"Your young friend looks like an animal, Xena. Rutting on her face, her little cunt open, ready for the prod of my manhood, or my fist or my sword." He raised his voice as he turned and stalked back toward his tent, addressing the silent reaches of the forest beyond the camp. "If you hear me, Xena, know that your Gabrielle will be ravaged tomorrow. Repeatedly. Unless you present yourself for my justice at dawn."
A sob escaped Gabrielle as the platform was tilted and locked again in position, displaying her in the most shameful -- say it, she thought, the most bestial position imaginable. She did look like an animal, she felt like one. A goat or a sheep, rutting --
"Hey, better shut your asscheeks, girlie! I see your pretty little bunghole, right there!"
"Xena," Gabrielle hissed into the sheepskin. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on the scratchy surface. "Don't listen. Be wise, Xena. Please."
Xena stepped out of the forest as the sun crested over the eastern ridge. She'd left her weapons behind, and her armor.
Blue eyes remained locked on the campsite, on the platform between the dying bonfires, as it was brought level and its prisoner released. She's fine, Xena told herself again. He didn't hurt her, not physically. That belief was confirmed when she saw Gabrielle kick one of the bigger centurions squarely in the crotch. Then the bard bent and snatched the huddled man's cape off his shoulders, and swept it around her own, covering her body with the billowing fabric. I'm glad she's on my side, Xena thought, one eyebrow lifting in grim approval.
A small company of soldiers assembled quickly and trotted out to capture Xena -- more accurately, to escort her, as she surrendered into Caesar's hands. One centurion -- the one not rolling on the ground, clutching his crotch -- grabbed Gabrielle's elbow and marched her out of the camp. Xena's message to Caesar had made her conditions for surrender clear. Gabrielle would be released and allowed to return to her home village. Caesar had no quarrel with this -- the girl had served her purpose.
The centurion tried to drag Gabrielle past Xena as they approached each other, but the bard shook him off as if he were lint.
"Am I supposed to thank you for this?" Spittle hit Xena's face as Gabrielle hissed at her, her green eyes bleak and afraid. "A martyr doesn't serve the greater good, Xena, a martyr just dies!" The girl's icy hands clutched Xena's shoulders, until the cursing centurion pried them off and pushed her on her way.
"Go back to Thrace, Gabrielle." Xena's voice was tired, sad. She hadn't looked at the bard. She didn't look back at her, either, as she was driven toward Caesar's cavernous main tent.
Gabrielle hid herself in the deep woods adjoining the camp, pulling the warm folds of the long cloak around her. She couldn't stop shaking, whether from anger or residual terror. Thrace, she thought, checking the position of the rising sun. Thrace was south of here. Potadeia, Gabrielle's home village, was west, but Xena's wording had been deliberate. She flashed a look at the looming tent in the center of the campsite, and sent silent benediction to her lover. Then she ran south.
Caesar's living quarters were housed in a canvass tent large enough to sleep ten. It was a lush, ornate space, resplendent with tapestries and fragrant with incense. As the sun set, small fires were lit in braziers to warm the tent, and lend a red, smoky light to the proceedings.
Caesar was hosting a victory banquet. His conquest consisted of one unarmed woman, but his sense of triumph could not have been greater if he had sacked Athens. A table of senior officers joined him in the feast, lifting their goblets to toast their commander with bleary-eyed frequency.
Caesar accepted the latest round of fawning accolades graciously, smiling with proprietary affection at his trophy. The scaffold had called for careful construction, but the result was worth the sweat of his engineers.
The warrior princess was suspended from the tent's center pole by her wrists, joined together above her head. Joined with baling wire -- a thin tendril of blood snaked down one muscled forearm.
The banners of Rome made wonderfully appropriate slings. Swaths of rich purple and gold silk, wrapping each of Xena's knees and pulling them up, until they formed perfect right angles to her hips. Symmetry was important to Romans. The warrior hung, swaying ever so slightly, her breasts pinched and swelling between her upraised arms, her thighs so widely spread her pubic hair quivered, thrusting out between them.
And she had been nicely bloodied. Beaten thoroughly before she was strung up, but not to the point of senselessness. Caesar knew when to call off his torturers, the exact moment, because he knew this woman intimately. So intimately, his knowledge of how to best degrade her approached genius. Now carefully placed torches illuminated her muscular body, tanned and glowing with sweat.
Xena knew what Caesar had planned for her before she stepped out of the forest that morning, years ago. Not the specifics, perhaps, but she expected the degradation. Just torturing her, killing her, wouldn't satisfy the despot, not after his failures against her in the field. She had known, when he ordered Gabrielle stripped and bound, that her punishment before death would be sexual.
At least, Xena thought, it's an arena I know well. Center, she thought. And drew in another of a hundred slow, deep breaths. Gabrielle's face in her mind, the honey-red hair blowing off her brow in soft waves. The blue eyes kept their focus on the back wall of the tent, over the heads of the men, and oblivious to them.
The table bearing the celebratory meal was immediately in front of the prisoner, and the officers sat facing the display, so they could comment upon the woman's virtues while they feasted. These men knew Xena -- few of them had laid eyes on her before, but her legend had traveled as far as Rome Herself. Seeing her so lewdly, helplessly displayed was a tonic to soldiers who knew they could never stand against the warrior in single combat. The talk and the laughter grew more raucous as the moon rose.
"Commanders of Rome." Caesar rose, folding his ermine cape neatly behind him. "We move now from a celebration of our brilliance at war, to a demonstration of our superior engineering."
Torchlight glinted off his sculpted breastplate as he strolled around the table and approached the suspended prisoner. He stood beside Xena and lifted his goblet of wine to the grizzled assembly. "A toast, to the prowess of Rome! A nation so superior She can conquer the tenderest vulnerabilities of Her enemies . . . "
Here, Caesar turned to Xena and splashed some of the warmed wine over her right nipple, then her left. As the cheers of his soldiers rose, he tipped his flagon between the warrior's suspended thighs and splashed her exposed vagina with the liquid. Cheers became bellows of approval.
". . . . . and at the same time, develop cunning mechanical marvels to complete the submission of Her conquered. Gentlemen -- the Roman Drill."
Gabrielle got into position in time to hear Caesar's speech, but she didn't dare move until she was sure her presence was undetected. Shimmying under a secluded flap of the tent, and crawling to this small space between barrels of supplies, seemed to have taken half the night. But now she was close enough, and she pushed a jug out of the way so she could see into the dining area. Her hand spasmed around the clay jar and nearly toppled it. For a moment she couldn't breathe.
Xena was fully conscious, well aware of the scathing laughter of the men, and the strange movement in the platform on the floor beneath her. Slowly, a wooden slab in the platform slid back, opening a space about the size of a man's hand. A vague, mechanical whirring sound issued from this hole. Gabrielle made herself tear her gaze from Xena's face, to try to better see what was rising beneath her.
It looked like a slender spearhead, wrapped in leather, so crudely phallic it's very shape was obscene. The size of a human arm, the phallus rose at the end of a pole, apparently attached to a winch or a pulley system in the platform itself. It inched upward, it's tip blind, seeming to sniff for its prey, the juncture between the woman's spread thighs.
Gabrielle made some sound, an anguished, dread-filled moan -- but she could do nothing. Not now, against ten officers and Caesar himself. Stay strong, my love, she thought. I'm here, I'm with you.
Caesar moved in front of Xena to adjust the phallic drill. He nosed the tip of the blunted point between the lower lips of her cunt, and socketed it neatly into her vaginal opening. Then he lifted his head, and looked at Xena's swollen nipples, an inch from his eyes. His gaze moved upward to the crystalline blue of her remote eyes. Caesar smiled.
He turned, and gestured at a soldier toward the back, who shouted something out the tent's flapped opening. A moment later, the buzzing sound beneath the platform changed, grew louder.
Caesar moved aside, so his officers could have an unobstructed view of the suspended woman's rape.
The phallus rose up into her, slowly. The shape itself began turning, a gradual, stop-and-start stuttering as it sank between Xena's twitching lips. The warrior's eyes closed as it dug up into her, her nostrils flaring.
"A right Roman reaming," one older man guffawed, to the laughing congratulations of his fellows for his pun. But none of the soldiers took their eyes from the drill, or the shuddering mound it penetrated.
Finally, the drill could advance no further -- it's victim was fully engorged. Xena's breasts heaved with her breath, and her body screamed violation even as twisting tendrils of heat flooded her open crotch. The twisting of the phallus continued, the coarse leather sliding against the greased walls of her cunt.
The warrior vocalized an exhaled breath, a soft "Ah - ah - ah" that brought new shouts of laughter.
Gabrielle tried to be grateful for the laughter. It's roar drowned her sobs, until she could stifle them again. Blood beaded on her forefinger, from the force of her teeth.
(Stay strong, Gabrielle.)
Gabrielle jerked, hard, her eyes flying open. She had heard the words spoken, whispered, in her ear, in a voice so well-loved she was weak with it.
"The pistoning motion begins," Caesar intoned as the phallus began pulling out of Xena, then surging back in. Her body lifted slightly as it plowed up into her. "Luckily for our prisoner, her juices are already wetting the leather. The piston motion, and the circular twisting, will continue throughout the night."
Xena's eyes snapped open and flashed Caesar a look of implacable hatred as she rode the churning Drill. Suspended, beaten and impaled, she would hang here for hours, stuffed with that hideous leather twisting in and out of her. Caesar smiled at her again, as his men broke into appreciative applause.
Gabrielle never remembered how long the dinner lasted. The men ate, and watched the drill's inexorable grinding into the sweating warrior's cunt. They drank, drank again, and then sat long, nudging each other, pointing when Xena's breasts bounced as she flinched, the leather burnishing a sensitive spot repeatedly. The men were stroking themselves, most of them, beneath the table.
But at last they were gone. The last of them had to be carried out by two others, so freely had the wine flowed. Only Caesar remained, downing the second of only two goblets he had allowed himself. He wanted a clear head, to remember this night.
His head would be less than clear soon, however, as the goblet he drank from had been coated with danderbane. Xena's pouch held just enough. Gabrielle had found the pouch, clothing, Argo, and their weapons, directly south of Caesar's camp.
"I'll wait up with you, Xena." He lifted the goblet to Xena's parched lips. In spite of her scathing thirst, her lips remained closed. "Ah, the depthless pride of the warrior princess. I counted on it, you know, to bring the evening off."
He took a step back, and looked at the leather phallus churning deep between her legs. "I could have strung your friend up here, you know. And had you watch. Remember that, if you think me a cruel man."
Xena lifted her head, and snapped her damp hair from her eyes. "I think you're a corpse," she rasped.
Watching, Gabrielle smiled, fiercely, through her tears.
"In fate's time." Caesar swayed on his feet for a moment, and his eyes closed. "Hm. It seems tonight's victory has sapped even my strength, Xena. I hate to renege on my offer to wait with you, but -- "
"That's right, Caesar . . . " Xena paused, unable to speak until the leather fist within her paused in its twisting. "You get a good night's sleep. If I get hungry later I'll just come down and snack on your jugular, how's that?" It was a long speech, but worth the massive effort it took.
"That's my warrior." Sounding almost tender, Caesar inserted two fingers between Xena's hairy nether lips and stroked her clitoris. "Tomorrow's challenges include a whip of barbed wire. Dream of me, Xena."
He released Xena, turned, and half-stumbled back to his throne-like chair behind the banquet table. He was in a deeply drugged sleep seconds after he collapsed into it.
Xena's mind drifted. The phallus pulsing in and out of her made rational thought difficult, so she allowed herself to give in to the dizzy faintness for a moment. After several seconds, she worried that the blows her head had taken that day were telling on her. She was hallucinating a familiar, light scent of sunflowers. The touch of a soft, cool palm, sliding up the heated side of her face. And a voice she knew and loved so well, it had to be real. Xena managed to smile at Gabrielle. "I thought I dreamed you."
"I'll cut his throat, Xena." Gabrielle's throat was choked with tears, and her sapphire eyes shimmered with them. "I'll tear it out with my teeth, I promise you -- "
That beloved but rarely used nickname, heard mostly during their most tender moments of love. It stopped Gabrielle, and calmed her. She looked fully at the loathsome drill. "Tell me what to do."
"Well. I have to get off this. Obviously." Xena squinted up the length of her arms, to the wire binding wrists that sizzled and stang.
"I can lift you." Gabrielle's arms snaked swift and sure around Xena's waist, her eyes trusting.
"You can lift most of me," Xena sighed. "I'll do the rest. Ready. Now."
Gabrielle's knees bent, her arms tightened, and she lifted with all her strength. It was almost enough. But Xena did have to pull up on those wire-wrapped wrists briefly, to lift herself off the drill, and the tendril of blood wended down her arm again.
Flinching at Xena's gasp of pain, Gabrielle guided her hips over and behind the saturated leather spearhead, then eased her down. When the slings fully supported her again, Gabrielle whirled, grabbed the drill, and wrenched it from side to side, snarling softly in incoherent rage. The pole bent, even snapped.
"You killed it," Xena assured her, her eyes closed against the fire in her wrists, and the dozen other minor injuries that were beginning to assert themselves. "Okay, bring me my chakram, I can slice these wires -- "
"I will." Gabrielle faced Xena, her hands at her sides, the green light in her eyes deepening with love now. "But first, I'm taking you back, Xena."
"What?" Xena frowned down at her, then looked up at the wire again.
"I know you're hurting. I'm -- sorry. But he can't have you, Xena, because you're mine. You gave yourself to me. I'm taking you back, now."
Xena said nothing as Gabrielle moved closer to her. The girl's eyes fell to the warrior's furred mound, spread open before her. Keeping her eyes on the wetness, Gabrielle unlaced the bindings of her top. When it was open, she pushed the edges up over her shoulders, baring her large breasts.
Gabrielle put out a gentle finger and inserted it, very carefully, into the opening of Xena's slit. Xena began to tremble. She moved it up, then down, then withdrew it.
"You've never allowed my kiss." Gabrielle looked up into Xena's troubled eyes as she circled each of her own nipples with her dark lover's juices. "You've brought me to ecstasy countless times with yours. I'm going to taste you, Xena, and fill you with my tongue."
"Gabrielle." Xena's voice was low, quiet, and deadly serious. "You may not."
Gabrielle closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. "I don't ask your permission, warrior."
The girl cupped Xena's hips in her hands, pulled them forward, and sank her mouth against her open vulva. She widened her lips and sucked mightily, an opening vacuum that sent searing pleasure coursing through Xena's groin. Xena shuddered with it, hard, but held on to her rage. She twisted in the slings, snarling, but Gabrielle was relentless. She buried her face deeper, her tongue exploring every greased cranny thoroughly. She sang a low chant into Xena's cunt as her tongue ravished her, her teeth clicking occasionally over her clit. Xena groaned and twisted, hard.
Don't, don't fight me, Gabrielle thought, chewing, tears coursing down her face. Don't hurt yourself anymore, my love, I can't bear it. Accept my pleasuring, please, accept me --
And the cavern Xena's most hated enemy had exposed to shame her began to fill with waves of erotic fire from the lips of her greatest love. Xena's struggles became undulations, her breasts bulging out as her back arched, even her toes curling as Gabrielle sucked hard, twice, on her clit, then released it. The bard's tongue stiffened, pointed, and then skewered into her, plunging deep.
Xena heard Gabrielle in her mind. I'm fucking you with my mouth, warrior. I'm holding you spread and devouring you with my tongue. I am Gabrielle, bard of Potadeia and holder of the right of caste of Amazon Nation, and you will remember my kiss. Gabrielle pursed her lips and let out an explosive breath, the pent up pressure of the air squelching through Xena's dripping cunt. Then her small teeth settled over Xena's clit in a jittering, vibrating bite.
That was all Xena said, just her name, and she didn't scream it. It came out in a hoarse whisper, a soft cry as she came. Came harder than she would have believed possible -- the force of it terrified her for a moment. Her hips quivered and bucked in Gabrielle's clutching hands, and her eyes rolled up whitely as her mouth sagged open. Her breasts quaked, sharply, as she bounced with a particularly searing spark of pleasure. Then, slowly, Xena quieted, and Gabrielle lifted her head.
My lover, Gabrielle thought, staring up into those ethereal blue eyes. My master, my friend. My life for you.
And heard, in her mind, Xena's voice whispering the same words.
The End - 'In Caesar's Hands' - by Klancy7
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