A Halloween of the Ages
The room, if it could be called that, was bathed in darkness.
Soft light flickered out of strange shapes, sinister faces that were craved in large gourds. Each had a different face, yet all portrayed masks of pain, fear, anger, malice, or cruelty. There were skulls resting on some of the flat surfaces, with a coffin leaning in the corner of the room as well. Unnaturally large cobwebs stretched across the walls and concentrated in the corners, making any visitor wary of running into the sticky silk's master and owner. Chains were strewn across the floor, covered in both rust and what appeared to be blood. The dungeon was only illuminated by candlelight, but the shadows fought to choke that meager source of illumination out, to smother any visitor in pitch and terror.
Suddenly a door banged open, shattering the silence of horror. Two bodies came in; one large in stature, holding the other, small in physique, over his shoulder like a sack of grain. The smaller body was struggling in his bonds, fighting for his release from the apparently unwanted captivity. The larger man seemed to grow weary of this and unceremoniously tossed the human baggage onto the red and black satin sheets. The bound captive quickly tore apart his cloth chains and removed the gag from his mouth, keeping his eyes on his jailor all the while.
The man staring down at him was frightening. Standing easily a head above his own, the captive could see that his warden had the suit of armor that Roman Centurions were outfitted with. Intricate steel mesh covered his entire torso, followed by ornately styled plates that were styled after a might beast, showed how high his skill had been praised. His arms and thighs were bare, showing just how large he was in his physique. The forearms and calves were bound in tight fitting leather straps, while his feet were sealed within sturdy boots. His hands remained bare, but were decorated with rough calluses. With a mop of curly blond hair, steel gray eyes, and a domineering face, the younger man knew he was in trouble.
Similarly, the man dressed as a Roman knight was staring down his victim, not in fear, but with lust. The slave he was rewarded with was most certainly a catch; dark skinned with smooth black hair, the boy was a captured exotic dancer from the Roman Empire's hated enemy, the Persian Empire. Dressed in expensive silks, golden chains, and jewels, the boy's outfit was a testament to his skill as a performer. The Centurion couldn't wait to see exactly how well the Exotic Dancer would perform, in every aspect of the word.
Both men stared at each other, one panting in fear, the other in desire, both in anticipation.
Finally the silence was broken once again. "Why have you brought me here soldier?" demanded the Exotic Dancer, trying to hide his fear by speaking in a haughty tone worthy of his station in life.
The Roman Centurion gave a lecherous grin down at the body upon his bed. "You are my reward for serving mighty Caesar faithfully in his campaign against your people, the Persians. You are to serve me in any fashion I choose." Here the large fighter moved down to his bed, placing his knees down upon the fabric. He could see his treasure curl up in anxiety. Moving to lean over his captive, the Centurion sneered, "And I choose for you to be a concubine, a paramour…my sex slave."
The Roman moved to grab his now slave. Yelling, the captive cried out, "NO!" and, with a kick that had more luck than skill behind it, the Exotic Dancer lashed out and made contact with the groin of his now molester. The bigger man collapsed in pain and he made a break for the door, desperate in hopes of escaping or at least hiding until he could flee back to his home country. Banging on the door, he fumbled at the door handle, stumbling in his attempt to figure out the exact mechanism of it.
Suddenly he felt a large hand on his shoulder. Being forcefully spun around, the failed escapee barely had time to gasp before he was lifted up by his neck. With one hand, the Roman Centurion slammed his new slave into the door. He unsheathed his sword and pointed the sharp end at the underside of his jaw. "I have killed men for less insult at me, my little pretty one. Be thankful that you have something to offer me that others do not."
With one last shake against the door to reinforce his words, the Roman Centurion turned and flung his prisoner back onto the bed. Before the Dancer had time to protest, let alone catch his breath, his captor was upon him, tearing the silk off his body. Using long strips of the fabric, the Centurion began binding his newly acquired sex slave's hands to the headboard of the bed. He then moved to sit on the legs of his conquest, resting his knees parallel to the others and his gluts upon the other's shins. Unable to move, the Exotic Dancer stared up at the Roman Centurion in abject terror, fear dilating his pupils and his chest rising up and down in hyperventilation.
The Roman Centurion licked his lips is anticipation of what was to come. Finally, he would relieve the sexual tension that had plagued him all these weeks of war against the savages from the desert. Moving his head alongside his slave's, he began nipping at the exposed flesh in eagerness. Hearing a sudden intake of air, the trained killer's vision exploded in pain. Rearing back with a roar, he backhanded the Exotic Dancer's face. Reaching to feel at his nose, he was surprised to only see a little bit of blood coming from it. He was sure that it was broken, judging by the pain he had felt.
"How dare you attack a Roman Centurion boy! I am your master and you will call me such!" Reaching to grasp the Dancer's neck once again, the larger man began to apply pressure, slowly cutting off any flow of air. The Exotic Dance began attempting to thrash loose, trying to draw breath. The Centurion only squeezed harder. "If you insist on keeping up these futile efforts, my pretty little sex slave, then I won't waste anymore time."
With his other hand, the Roman began undoing the straps that kept his armor attached. Soon he was half exposed, with his lower body completely bare and any remaining armor hanging off of him loosely. His chest was sprinkled with light hairs which lead down a trail to his groin, where a mighty tool of masculinity rested, the size more than worthy for a man of the Roman army. Readjusting his weight, he released the bruised flesh of his sex toy. "I will warn you once more; if you continue to fight me like this slave, I will just take you now and your blood will ease my sheath into you."
The Exotic Dancer ceased his movements at hearing those words. So it really was going to happen, he was going to be plundered bodily despite all of his efforts. He felt the body on top of him start to move around and he looked up, terrified at what he would see. The Roman Centurion was reaching over, grasping the base of a candlestick, and he slowly brought it over the pinned man's body. "Will you submit and call me Master?"
With one last thread of defiance he didn't know he had, the captured Persian rasped out, "No." The Roman shrugged, but didn't look very upset at the news of his slave's rebellion. "Very well then." He said in a nonchalant manner. "More fun for me." He tipped the candle over a bit, the hot wax spilling onto the exposed flesh of the Dancer's side. The wax hit the skin and instantly began to cool and harden, but in that brief instant of sudden heat, the Exotic Dancer arched his back in both pain and pleasure, the nerve endings under his skin crying out in sheer ecstasy.
The duo continued this dance; the Centurion pouring more and more of the hot wax upon the Dancer's flesh, one suffering through the sadistic pleasures and the other trying to calm his body down enough to enjoy the sight below him. Eventually the candle ran out of readymade hot wax, and the Roman placed it back on the shelf near him. "Call me Master and this will end quicker for you my slave." He looked down, waiting for a response. The Dancer turned slave merely labored to catch his breath, and with a weak but still defiant glare, he mumbled out, "Never."
Shaking his head, the Centurion couldn't decide if he should be more angry or pleased at his captive's response. Yes he wanted to ravish the beautiful body beneath him and spend the remainder of the night in sexual frenzy, but to do so with an unwilling partner would only make the shared experience less fiery. But he wanted to break the boy's will, and have him surrender not only his body but his mind, and then there would be no limit to their night of coital rhapsody.
Reaching down, the soldier began to gently pull the exposed nipple piercings that decorated his slave's chest. The piercings appeared to be made of gold, shaped in rings, and had a small jewel at the lower half, making for a erotic sexual toy that would further the Roman's plans. Gradually, he began to pull the rings more and more, slowly stretching the sensitive skin. He was careful not to yank and rip the tender flesh. It wouldn't do to get blood on him while he claimed what was his by right.
Trying frantically, and failing miserably, the Exotic Dancer couldn't help but let small moans escape his mouth, revealing how much his body was appreciating the torture. The Roman Centurion leaned down once again to bring his head to rest next to the prisoner's. "I can make it better," he whispered in a seductive tone. "All you have to do is call me Master." He licked his pleasure slave's ear in eagerness. The small piece of flesh was jerked away with a heated, but growing weaker, growl of, "Never."
The Centurion paid the verbal defiance no heed and continued the assault on the other man's nipples, slowly twisting and pulling them. He began to lick and bite at the neck and ears next to him as well. Bit by bit, more moans escaped from the Exotic Dancer and his body writhed under the sexual torment that was being administered to him. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep up his defenses at this rate, despite his strong words from before.
Suddenly the body above him disappeared. Opening his eyes in confusion, the Dancer looked around for his sadistic torturer. Spotting him across the room, the Roman Centurion was making his way back to the bed with a strangle vial in his hand. His trim legs were lifted up and placed on top of the other man's might shoulder muscles, with the rest of the impressive body shifting closer to his now exposed underside. Giving a whimper of fear, the performer turned slave tried to wiggle free of the new position he was now in. In a flash, his cock was grasped with a firm, yet gentle hand that was covered in a strangely scented oil. "None of that now." murmured the fighter.
Placing the oil vial on the shelf next to the previously used candle, the Roman Centurion continued to lightly stroke the Dancer's penis in a languid fashion. With his other hand, unseen by the foreigner, he placed one lubed finger at the entrance to his body. When the Dancer felt the finger touch the clenched area of flesh, he immediately tensed up in terror, the reality of the situation crashing down on him once again.
"Relax." cooed the ruthless Centurion, which sounded strange coming from him. "Call me Master and I assure you, this will be as wonderful to you as it will for me." Not waiting for a response this time however, the bigger man picked up the pace of his stroking to relax the body within his hands. Slowly, the Exotic Dancer released his tension and began to whimper in both agony and bliss from the sensations coming from his genitals. Seeing an opportunity, the fighter quickly slipped in a finger into the Dancer's body, and before the boy had a chance to freeze up his muscles, he shoved in one more, joining the original finger as well.
The Exotic Dancer gave out a cry, whether it was of discomfort or desire, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that the pair of fingers inside his lower half were moving in and out in a gentle manner, matching the pace of the strokes his penis was experiencing as well. Soon the two fingers began scissoring, opening up the ring of muscle even further. Eventually, a third finger joined them, thus stretching him farther and sending more of the strange tingling sensation to his brain.
The pace picked up. The Roman Centurion began to sweat a bit, both from the ministration he was placing upon the Exotic Dancer and from his own sexual obstruction. "Call me Master, slave." He began playing with the other's balls now, and, with a quick tug, he began pushing his fingers deeper into the captive's body. Their plunging into the Exotic Dancer's body was one of the most erotic things the Roman soldier had ever seen. He moved his other hand back to the neglected shaft and began stroking that as well, careful not to let the other feel any release just yet.
It was the trio of burrowing fingers that undid him, along with the quick strokes from the rough hand that finally did him in. With tears falling from his eyes, the Exotic Dancer moaned out, "Please….please let me release!" The Roman made no acknowledgment of hearing his plea. Trying once again, the Dancer spoke in a louder voice. "Please….please Master, let me feel you inside me!" He broke down in tears, his body screaming out a thousand cries of sexual distress.
Smiling, the Roman Centurion quickly lubed up his fleshy sword and, with a deft motion, speared it into the Exotic Dancer's wanton body. Both men groaned at the feeling; the Centurion in ecstasy of the tightness and heat of the body beneath him, and the Dancer in disbelief that he could actually take all of the other man's sheath inside him with minimal pain. Soon the larger man bottomed out, his crotch hairs tickling the smooth bottom cheeks of the sex slave. Staring at each other through a haze of lust and satisfaction, the Roman began to thrust himself in and out, slowly at first to ease away any initial penetration pains the Dancer may experience. Eventually though, caution gave way to want and need, and the pair of bodies began to push and pull with and against each other.
Slapping himself in and out his newly converted sexual treasure, the Centurion began aiming his cock around inside, trying to find that one spot that would make the Exotic man scream out in rapture. Without warning, the Dancer gave a hoarse cry of joy and hooked his ankles around the other man's neck. Giving a satisfied grin for himself, the Roman began to piston his cock in that exact same spot, causing his slave to scream out in passion. Growling, he held his slave close to him with one hand while the other resumed its position around the other's cock.
"Say my name." rumbled the Roman Centurion, as he grinded what felt like his entire body into the smaller man's.
"M-master…" whimpered the Exotic Dancer, trying to think coherently enough to breathe in a normal fashion.
"Louder." He thrust inwards, almost afraid that he was bruising the other's sex gland.
"M-master!" he could barely function, only feel as he was consumed by passionate fire.
"Louder!" He would make sure the boy wouldn't walk straight for days!
"MASTER!" He was dying, that's all there was to it, his brain was going to explode from carnal overload!
Whiteness. Release. Exhaustion.
Two bodies rested on top of the bed, now in total disarray from its previous tidy setting. They were panting heavily; both were covered in sweat, sealed together by the physical release of the smaller man's ejaculation. Slowly, the body on the bottom stirred and began thrashing half-heartedly, trying to stir awake the body on top of him.
"Eric, love, wake up. You're crushing me." groaned the Exotic Dancer to the Roman Centurion.
With a mumble of incoherent words, the ancient warrior shifted off to the side, positioning his body alongside the others. Opening one eye, he grated out, "Well that was one of the best role plays ever." He grinned and leaned for a kiss, showing how much he cared for his partner. "But you broke the act at the end Luke. Was I too sexy for ya?" Eric asked with a cocky attitude.
Luke rolled his eyes, "I'm not even going to answer that question, your ego doesn't need any more stoking." He was still tied to the headboard with the silk wrappings. With a small frustrated noise, he jerked his chest into Eric's face. "Hey sleepy. Before you zonk off, can you peel the wax off my chest, it's starting to itch."
Giving his smaller lover a worried frown, he began to do as he was told. "I didn't hurt you did I? I kinda got carried away a bit near the end." As his fingers scrapped away the cooling wax, he noticed Luke start to shudder in response. "Of coarse," he started with a lecherous grin, "you did kick me and hit my nose."
"You deserved both of those, since you slapped me and held me by my neck, which by the way, I can't believe you're actually strong enough to do that." Luke retorted while trying to keep calm and not react to what Eric was doing to him. "And next Halloween I top."
Eric snorted rudely. "How? You bottom and I top, and that isn't going to change love."
Luke grinned mischievously. "Oh Eric, you haven't realized yet, but you don't have to be a top to dominate."
Snorting once again, Eric replied, "I'll believe it when I see it."
"Fine next year the theme is 'Cops and Robbers', you'll be the Cop and I'll be the Robber." Luke replied. "Just imagine when I use your own cuffs on you and have you chained to the bed, unable to touch me or yourself. And I'll just happen across you and have my wicked way with you. Before you know it, I'll have you reduced to a quivering pile of goo with a hardon screaming for someone to touch it."
Eric could feel himself hardening as he listened to Luke describe next year's festivities and sexual exploits. "Until then however, Happy Halloween Eric." whispered Luke, as he kissed his lover on the nose with a chaste kiss.
"Happy Halloween to you too Luke." responded Eric, reciprocating the kiss.
The pair laid in silence for a bit, and Luke could feel himself drifting off to sleep. But he was still tied to the bedposts and he wanted to remove the nipple rings as well. "Hey Eric?"
"Can you untie me? It's a little awkward, trying to fall asleep like this."
Eric looked over and with a devious look, he purred out, "No my slave. You broke the act, and you must be punished."
Luke looked at him in disbelief. "You have got to be kidding me Eric, you still have energy after all that?!"
Getting up, the man dressed as a Roman Centurion set himself between the Exotic Dancer's legs and, with a sudden thrust into the captive's body, he commanded, "What did I tell you slave?"
The Dancer looked up at his keeper with clouded eyes full of lust and need.
"Call me Master."
A/N: Here's a quick One-Shot, PWP for you guys. Have a Happy Halloween, be safe, and avoid getting any cavities! I may or may not write more with these two later on, but we shall see!