The Spaniard's Reward

This is a work of fiction based on the film “Gladiator.”
There is no intent to infringe on copyright or profit in any way from the
original work. The story is strictly for entertainment purposes as a work of
NC-17 fan-fiction. Do not copy, print or publish any part of this story without
the written permission of the author. 

Copyright Isobel 2002.

The Spaniard’s Reward

By Isobel

Isobel1013@yahoo.com

Proximo’s orders were simple:
attend to the Spaniard for the night. He was to be rewarded before our
household joined the caravan for Rome in the morning. My stomach churned with
fear, tinged with excitement, as I was prepared for the evening. I was bathed
and dressed in a colorful garment, my pale skin oiled, my long dark curls
adorned with shining baubles, and my dark eyes outlined with black kohl. I had
accompanied Proximo to the match that afternoon, as I often did, and what I saw
of the gladiator both frightened and thrilled me. He was the most fearsome
warrior I had ever seen, and not an opponent was left alive. Now, as the heavy
bar was lifted from the door and I followed the kitchen slaves into the
bedchamber, I wondered if I would live to see the morning.

The Spaniard stood as we entered, immediately on guard as he
had been in the ring. His blue-green eyes assessed the situation quickly and
seemed surprised to see the feast that was being laid out before him. He was so
intrigued by the roasted meats, bread, and fruits that he barely noticed me. I
melted into the shadowy corner and tried to calm my racing heart as the other slaves
exited the chamber and bolted the door behind them.

The gladiator hurried to the table and sat at the bench,
diving into the roasted fowl with his hands and eating heartily. He was not the
giant of the rumors, but he was large enough, and his restrained movements
bespoke the power of his body. I felt a flush come to my face as I watched him
move, with the grace of one of the tigers in the ring, his muscles sculpted so
perfectly as to make the Gods jealous. I breathed deeply and moved quietly to his
side, taking up the carafe of wine and began to serve him. I must have startled
him, because he seized my hand before I saw him move, and my heart leapt into
my throat. He could have easily snapped my wrist. I calmed my voice forcefully
before speaking, determined not to show the fear I felt.

“If you’d like some wine, you’ll have to let go, gladiator.”

When his piercing eyes moved over my face and body, I
thought I saw a moment of lust pass over his face, but it quickly changed to
something else. My fear melted into a tingling excitement as I caught my
breath.

“What do you want?” he asked gruffly and released me.

“I am Sabina,” I answered, leaning my body close to him as I
poured the wine. “I am sent to attend you.”

“I don’t need your attention,” he spoke, though his eyes
lingered.

His voice was deep and sonorous, and washed over me like a
wave, but I was disappointed in his words.

“Then I wish I had brought my spinning. This will be a long
evening.”

“What do you mean by that?” he asked, his brilliant eyes
flashing with anger.

Again, I paused before speaking to find my courage.<
<

“The door is locked. Proximo has given orders that it not be
opened again until morning. You are to be rewarded, whether you desire it or
not.”

He sighed and relented.

“Proximo…” he mused. “All right, sit down, or do what you
like.”

I moved behind him and began massaging his powerful neck and
shoulders. He tensed at first, then relented to my firm grip. I smiled when he
sighed deeply and urged me to ease his painful shoulder.

“Do you have injuries? I have medicine.”

“This is fine,” he said and tasted the wine.

He seemed surprised that it was good, and quickly drained
his cup. I refilled it and continued my ministrations as he ate greedily. I
sang quietly, and between the song and the wine, I felt him begin to relax. His
scent was strong with sweat, but sweet; his hair fine and soft. And his arms
were massive; I could not fit both hands around his bicep to massage it. I
couldn’t help wondering what was under that tunic. From the pleasured sounds
that came from him, and with the amount of wine he drank, I was sure I would
soon see.

“The men say you are the General Maximus,” I said.

“I am a slave,” he snapped.

I jumped with the force of his deep voice, and instantly regretted
my words. He turned and glared at me fiercely. I cast my eyes down
submissively.

“Like me.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” he gentled and touched my hand still on
his shoulder, easing my fear. “Forgive me.”

I sighed quietly with relief and smiled to him.

“Well, tonight, at least you are Lord of one. Will you
bathe? I have oils and clean garments for you.”

He turned and grinned to me, and I sensed a little
embarrassment in his expression. “I can’t remember the last time I had a bath.”

Standing from the table too quickly, he became dizzy and
stumbled. I caught him around the waist, though I could not have held him if he
had fallen. Desire jolted through me as I embraced his hard body, sculpted as
if from marble.

“It’s been some time since I’ve had wine,” he laughed and
steadied himself by putting a strong arm around my shoulder. “I used to drink
like Bacchus himself, but no more, it seems.”

“Slow down a little and the evening will last longer,” I
smiled up to him and nudged him towards the tub.

He grinned and laughed heartily at my words, and I was
pleased with the change in his demeanor. His smile was brilliant. It felt like
a reward; the sun on my face. I guided him carefully to the reclining tub
before the bed. Maximus leaned on my shoulder to steady himself and watched
with interest as I unclasped his belt and pulled his dirty tunic over his head,
then stripped him of his loincloth. My heart raced as I gazed upon his muscular
body and generous phallus, already partially erect from the massage.style='mso-spacerun:yes'>

“Do you like what you see, Sabina?” he asked with a cocked
brow and a chuckle, swaying a little with drink.

“I see now why you are called Maximus.”

He laughed again and reached for my face. I leaned into his
touch, brushing my lips against his palm. His brows suddenly furrowed when he
saw the dirt that he left on my face.

“I’m sorry,” he laughed. “I need that bath.”

I smiled and drew my scarf over my cheek, wiping away the
grime. Maximus chuckled and allowed me to guide him into the reclining tub,
sighing as he settled into the warm water, scented with soothing herbs. I took
up a pitcher at the side of the tub and poured water over his hair and face,
then proceeded to scrub his body enthusiastically, singing for once with true
joy in my heart.

“Your voice is beautiful” he mused, smiling brilliantly as I
rubbed scented oil on his broad chest, my fingers lingering on his nipples.
“I’m surprised Proximo will share you.”

“Proximo is becoming an old man. He has little use for me
these days.”

“I can think of many uses for you,” his deep voice seemed to
purr, and he reached for my breast, grazing the thin fabric over my erect
nipple with his thumb. I closed my eyes and sighed at his touch, and was
surprised when he drew away suddenly. When I opened my eyes, his gaze had grown
distant in memory.

“Do I not please you?” I asked, terrified of his answer.

 
>

“Too well, it seems,” he spoke with a profound sadness in
his voice. He would not look at me. “My wife had hair like yours, black like
good soil, and soft dark eyes.”

“You were taken from her?”

“She was murdered, crucified, with my so/p> /p>

I lowered my eyes solemnly and felt my throat grow tight.
His sorrow made me think of my own lost love.

“I am sorry for you. She was fortunate to have the love of a
man like you. My lover was taken from me as well; sold away. He never lived to
become a man.”

I felt his finger on my chin, and he raised my eyes to meet
his.

“Do you think we betray our loved ones by finding solace in
another?”

I breathed deeply and thought for a moment. I had wondered
this often myself; though I rarely chose the bed I slept in.

“If I had died in his place, I would not have wished him to
be comfortless. I know I will see him in the afterlife, but for now, I suppose
the Gods have use for me yet.”

I watched his shining eyes consider my words, and the
sensation was alien to me. He had honestly asked for my thoughts and listened
to me, treated me like a person instead of a beast of burden, and it made me
want him all the more. He turned his gaze back to me and I watched a gentle
smile play upon his lips.

My heart leapt as Maximus reached for me and drew me into
his kiss, hesitant at first, his lips barely touching my mouth, open and
gasping. Desire jolted through my thighs, and my sex suddenly grew wet. A moan
escaped my lips, and the sound must have excited him, because he forgot all
hesitation and devoured me hungrily with his kiss, warm and sweet and tasting
of wine. I had never felt a man so urgent, as if he were loosing years of
restrained longing, and I quickly lost myself in desire. He pulled me into the
warm water with a splash and clutched me tightly is bis body. My garment was
soaked through, the thin fabric becoming transparent in the water.

I put my hand under the warm water, grasped his swollen
phallus, and felt his mouth grin against my kiss as I caressed him. His breath
quickened as my hand glided over his oiled flesh effortlessly in the water,
then encircled his shaft with my hand at the base and squeezed, causing him to
swell and groan. He tore at the shoulder of my garment, freeing my breasts,
then leaned forward and took my nipple into his hot mouth, suckling, tugging at
me hungrily, and kneading my other breast firmly with his hand. I gasped and
stroked him vigorously. He groaned and covered my mouth with his again, taking
my breath away with his kiss.

“Sabina,” he nearly growled into my ear desirously, “your
mouth is so sweet.”

“Stand and let me show you how sweet, Spaniard,” I begged.

Maximus panted with heavy breath and pushed me back, rising
from the tub, the water running down his sculpted thighs. He brought his
upthrust phallus down to me as I knelt in the water. My heart raced as I
circled the velvet tip with my tongue, then took the wide head into my mouth,
tasting his sweet fluid. I looked up to him and held his gaze as I breathed
deeply and took him into my mouth, devouring first only half his length, then a
little more. He watched intently and groaned with a deep sonorous purr that
excited me nearly to my own climax. I swallowed him greedily and stroked hisled led shaft with both hands. Maximus laced his fingers through my hair an
guided my head, thrusting against my mouth until nearly his whole length was in
my throat, then moved back and tugged at my hair, urging me to stand.

Before I could find steady footing with my weak knees,
Maximus grabbed me under the arms and lifted me into his strong embrace. He
kissed me greedily and carried me to the canopied bed, tossing me down like a
doll, and unwound the length of sheer wet fabric that clung to my curves. My
body ached with anticipation as he crawled over me like a panther.

“You please me well,” he breathed close to my, his voice
hoarse and deep. “When was the last time a man pleasured you, concubine?”

Maximus moved his kiss down my body then thrust my legs open
and parted the moist pink flesh with his tongue. The sensation of his hot mouth
between my legs hit me like lightning, and pleasure coursed through me, making
my toes curl. My throat closed in a whimper, and I felt him grin as I thrust my
hips and rocked my body against his mouth. He devoured me mercilessly until my
thighs began to tremble. Then, without warning, he drove his tongue into my
body, and upteupted with a shriek. He continued kissing me, milking my climax
as I shuddered under him.

“Did you like that, sweetness?” he purred, moving up the bed
and over me.

“Oh Maximus,” was all I could manage, still wracked with the
throes of my orgasm.

He laid his body over me, crushing me deliciously with his
full weight. I tasted my own fluids in his mouth and on his beard as he kissed
me greedily, his tongue hard in my mouth, and I clutched him to my boafraafraid
that he might somehow slip from my grasp.

“Sing for me now,” he growled and thrust into me.

I gasped and shrieked as he filled me profoundly, arching my
back in ecstasy, bringing him deeper into my body. Pleasure washed over me like
a wave as the power of his body moved through me. He groaned and withdrew
completely, plunging into me again and again with all of his life force.
Moaning, I wrapped my legs around his hard body and laced my fingers in his
short hair. Maximus devoured my neck and mouth again with his kiss, filling me
with his very breath. I sucked his tongue into my mouth, causing him to groan.
He breathed heavily and took my breast into his mouth again, suckling and
teasing me until my thighs trembled helplessly under him, then shrieked as I
climaxed, and my body seized and thrashed beneath him. Maximus slowed his
movements but did not stop as I shuddered under him.

“Beautiful, beautiful,” he breathed heavily and pushed
himself up on his hands, pulling out of me.

I was barely conscious of his movements; I was so
overwhelmed with pleasure. He knelt between my trembling thighs as I gasped for
breath, then sat back on his heels, grasping my hips in his large hands and
drew me up into his lap, my calves resting on his shoulders. He guided his
throbbing member back to my opening and sunk himself into me deeply. With one
hand grasping my hip, and the other gripping my ankle, Maximus groaned and
watched himself slide into me again. I moaned in ecstasy and felt the tip of
his phallus pressed urgently to the opening of my womb with each thrust,
gasping his name again and again.

I gripped his shaft with my sex and I watched him close his
eyes and drop his head back as he groaned with the deepest longing, his thighs
trembling. His movements slowed and became arrhythmic as he tried to restrain
himself for another moment of ecstasy, then thrust his hips and cried out with
a deep guttural gasp as he came with a series of wrenching contractions buried
deep within me. I cried out again as his hot seed spilled into me, filling my
body with his warmth.

Maximus gasped for breath and collapsed over me, his body
trembling, his weight crushing me into the soft mattress. I sighed and cradled
his face against my breast, singing quietly, kissing his sweaty face and brow,
drifting in the euphoria of our lovemaking. In a moment, he reached a hand up
and drew down a lock of my dark hair, rubbing it between his fingers, then
kissed it tenderly. I knew his thoughts were again with his beloved wife, and I
caressed the back of his neck and kept silent, allowing him his memories. In a
moment, his breath became deep and steady, and he slept in my arms.

* * *

“Sabina,” Maximus whispered into my ear, waking me gently.
“They are coming.”

“No,” I begged as he moved from my embrace, and I heard the
heavy bar lift from the door.

“Thank you, sweetest. I will not forget your kindness,” he
said as he stroked my face and kissed my lips with the gentlest touch.

“Maximus,” I breathed, and the door crashed open.

The kitchen slaves streamed into the room and took away the
dishes from the night before, while others began collecting items to be packed
for the caravan to Rome. The women who bathed me approached the gladiator
warily and pulled me out of the bed, drawing linen robes over my head. Proximo
entered the room and smiled at what he saw.

“Spaniard! Make ready. We leave for Rome and bloody
adventures.”

“Maximus,” I called and struggled as the women drew me
towards the door.

His piercing eyes never left me, his expression proud and
stoic, and he ignored all others until they dragged me out the door.