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Kill |
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Kill and be killed |
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Quick death |
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TWO CROSSES A
story by Ferdinando Neri (and POW, who edited it) |
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Today is a great day in the arena. Today Marcus is facing
Gunner in a dance of death. Gunner is an experienced fighter and he is very
popular. He was a German warrior: he became a slave when he was captured
during a battle on the northern border. Marcus was a free man, a great Roman warrior. He
fought against the Germans for seven years. But he sold himself, accepting a
life as a slave to fight in the arena for two years, to gain the money to
rescue Gunner: he loves Gunner and Gunner loves him. He never thought that
one day he would fight against Gunner. Marcus quickly became a great gladiator. He rose in
popularity with the crowd with each kill. Now he is considered the champion:
the other gladiators know it is a death sentence to be paired against him. In a week Marcus will be a free man again and Gunner
will gain his freedom as well because Marcus will have the money to buy him.
Titus, Gunner’s and Marcus’ owner, knows he is going to lose his
two best gladiators, so he has decided to make them fight one against the
other: a great show. The arena is full. The men in the crowd know that
Marcus and Gunner are lovers and they came to see them fight against each
other. Marcus and Gunner fight naked and the men in the crowd can look at
their beautiful, strong bodies. Many men would like to be Marcus, to fuck
Gunner, or Gunner, to be fucked by a strong male like Marcus. But today they
want to see one of the two killing the other. Gunner fights with the sword, Marcus with the
trident and the net, he is the retiarius. The governor signals for the fight to begin. Gunner
moves quickly towards Marcus and has him on the defense immediately, but
Marcus manages to avoid his blade, which swings past close to his elbow. Marcus swings his net over Gunner’s head and
his trident forces Gunner to stay away. If he can ensnare him, Gunner will
have no chance. Marcus rushes toward Gunner, throwing the net, but
Gunner steps back. Gunner wounds Marcus on his right arm. Blood oozes
from the wound, but it’s not deep and Marcus seems not to notice it. The crowd is exalted. Marcus throws the net again and the weights wrap
around Gunner’s ankles. Gunner tries to free himself, but Marcus’
trident forces him back. Gunner loses his balance and falls violently. Gunner lands with his broad back on the bare ground.
The fall knocks the wind from him. He looks up at Marcus, who is breathing
heavily, sweat dripping from his brow and arms. He looks at his large, hard
cock. Gunner, too, has gotten an erection during the
fight, one that won’t go away, even now that he is going to be slaughtered.
Because Gunner knows that the crowd will ask for his death. Marcus is keeping the three points of the trident
against Gunner’s gut, between his navel and his groin.
Marcus’ heart begins to race. The crowd is
going to decide Gunner’s fate. And his fate, too. If Gunner has
to die, Marcus will kill him, but he will murder Titus too, and then he will
be killed. Marcus knows that the crowd is thirsty for blood,
but he is hoping. Their fight has been a good one. They have been brave.
Perhaps… The crowd is shouting. The men want death. They have
no sympathy with for the defeated gladiator. Slowly, watching the crowd, the governor aims his
thumb down, and he gives it a final downward jerk. The crowd repeats the
gesture. Marcus’ heart sinks. He looks at Gunner.
He’ll kill him, yes. He has to do it. He likes killing. He didn’t
want to kill Gunner, of course, but if he has to do it, he’ll enjoy it
and Gunner will enjoy being killed by Marcus: Gunner’s big hard cock is
already throbbing with pleasure, as he realizes that Marcus is going to kill
him. Marcus raises the trident, withdrawing it from his
fallen lover’s belly, and with a powerful drive he plunges it in
Gunner’s hard gut. Gunner’ head jerks suddenly and he gasps.
Marcus looks down and gazes intently at the shaft of the trident that is
stuck into Gunner’s belly. A faint smile appears on his face... He is
more and more aroused. Gunner too. There is an odd look of pain and pleasure
on his face. Marcus raises the trident again. Blood is oozing
from the three holes and the steel of the trident glistens in the sun. Gunner manages to smile. - This steel isn’t as hard as your cock,
Marcus. In Gunner’s ass there is still Marcus’
seed, they know it, both: Marcus fucked Gunner this morning. Marcus smiles,
too. - Farewell, my love. We’ll be together soon,
very soon. Marcus moves the trident over Gunner’s body
and one of the tines scratches Gunner’s cock. Gunner moans, while he
begins to cum. The pleasure washes over him. A moment later Gunner feels the stab of the
trident’s points into his left pectoral. The pain makes Gunner thrash
and his head arches back, but it’s only for a brief moment. He shouts
and his yell sends a shiver down Marcus’ spine. Gunner is a corpse now. Blood spurts from the wounds
that run across his chest and his belly and drops roll down the sides of his
body. A charon arrives. He lifts Gunner's head and smashes his skull with
the hammer. Gunner was already a corpse and Marcus looks, without moving, at
this last, useless, blow. The charon has a large hook. He sticks it
through the body and drags it from the arena. Gunner will be thrown into the
mass grave with the corpses of the other gladiators and animals who have died
today. Marcus could rescue the body, but he doesn’t want to delay his
revenge. He doesn't have time to bury his friend. Marcus stares at Gunner’s corpse as it is
dragged away, then he turns and leaves the arena. Simon is waiting for him. Simon was a Jewish nobleman’s son, but when he
was a boy, just sixteen, he was kidnapped by a group of brigands, who raped
him. They used him as their fuck boy for one year, then they sold him to a
landowner, who screwed him for some years. Later the landowner sold Simon to
a businessman, who supplied slaves for all purposes. Simon went through many
masters. When he wasn’t young and desirable anymore, his last master
sold him to Marcus. Marcus needed a slave, not a man for his bed. And
Simon fell in love with this strong warrior, the only master who didn’t
touch him. A hopeless love. Simon is serving Marcus, even now that Marcus
himself is a slave. He gives Marcus a cup of wine. Marcus drinks. Simon
begins to wash Marcus. Simon looks over the familiar body of this fighter,
his hairy, strong chest, his large cock, still rock-hard. Simon caresses his master’s body with the
sponge. Marcus looks at Simon. He needs to fuck. Simon understands and, trembling, he goes down on
his knees. Taking Marcus’ manhood in his mouth, he can smell sweat and
piss. He begins to tease the dickhead with his lips, then with his tongue,
which lashes and probes it. Marcus strokes the hair of his slave. Simon is
almost crying now.
- Turn. A dream comes true. Simon knows what is expected of
him and bends over the table, spreading his buttocks to receive his master.
Marcus jams his cock into Simon with no warning. Simon lets out a muffled
scream. He has a hard time with every thrust from Marcus. Marcus continues to
ram his dick in and out of Simon’s hole, thrusting harder and harder.
He is a powerful man and his manhood lacerates Simon’s bowels. Marcus slides his hands along Simon’s back and
sides, but his eyes are closed and his fingers are touching Gunner’s
body, feeling the texture of his lover’s skin. Marcus grabs
Simon’s shoulders. His hips thrust his bull-cock into Simon’s
warm innards. The cheeks of Simon’s ass tighten to increase
Marcus’ pleasure and in his mind Marcus sees Gunner’s strong
body, his hands caress Gunner's muscled ass. The fucking goes on for a long time. Finally Marcus
reaches his climax, shooting his hot load inside Simon’ butt. The
pleasure spreads through him. Then Marcus opens his eyes. He sees Simon. He spits
on the ground. He looks at his cock. It’s dirty with blood. - Clean it. Simon takes the sponge, then he changes his mind. He
kneels in front of Marcus and again takes Marcus’ cock into his mouth.
He cleans it with his tongue. Simon continues to work the sensitive head of
the dick with his mouth for a long time. And again Marcus feels Gunner’s lips and
tongue, as he did so many times before. Then Marcus arches his back, shoving his dick deeper
into Simon’ throat. He lets out a muffled scream and shoots his wad
into Simon’ mouth. Marcus drinks some wine. He looks at his slave, then
he looks away, sadness in his eyes. Later Titus enter the room. Marcus is resting, still
naked. His cock isn’t hard any more. Seeing Titus, he smiles. Titus says: - It was a great match. Marcus knows he should wait. Today he is still a
slave and if he kills Titus, he will be crucified. In a week he will become
free again, and he would be beheaded instead. But nothing matters now, only
revenge. Marcus is thirsty for Titus’ blood. He smiles and answers: - Yes, it was. Simon brought me Gunner’s
sword. I want to use it again. - But you are not going to fight in the arena
anymore, aren’t you? - No, I'm not. But I’ll use the sword. With a sneer, Marcus stabs Titus in the belly. Titus
grunts. His arms shake and his hands reach towards his wound as if to soothe
and heal it. A look of glee appears on Marcus’ face. He
stands back as though to admire his work. Titus’ belly bleeds freely.
It is a wound chosen for the pain it inflicts. It will be fatal eventually,
but Titus will live for some hours as he bleeds to death. The slaves who came with Titus run away to call for
the soldiers. They come and they seize Marcus. He doesn’t fight. They
take him to a cell. Titus dies four hours later. He was the
governor’s cousin. The governor wants to avenge him. Marcus will be crucified in three
days, but this isn’t enough for the governor. Marcus is in his cell. He is sitting in a corner
when eight soldiers enter. With no warning they begin to slam their fists
into him, again and again. He tries to defend himself, he kicks one of the
soldiers in the nuts. The soldier falls to the ground screaming. Four
soldiers hold him and they hit him again, in the belly, in the crotch, on the
face. They break his nose. Blood is running from Marcus’ nose and
mouth. A man grabs Marcus’s crotch and he begins to crush his balls.
Marcus almost faints. They force him to kneel down, exposing his tight, hairy
asshole. Then they fuck him, mocking him.
Every soldier pisses on Marcus’ head. The soldiers amuse themselves crushing Marcus’
balls as they fuck him. His ass is bleeding now, and when the Nubian enters
him, Marcus almost passes out. They go on and on and finally the world disappears
and Marcus faints. He awakens hours later, in a pool of piss, his body
aching from head to toe, his ass burning, his nuts bruised. He is not able to
rise. Finally he manages to stand and he stumbles to a corner. He begins to
piss, and the pain is overcoming: he is pissing blood. He leans against the
wall until he finishes. He faints again. Every day many soldiers enter the cell, to fuck
Marcus, the great gladiator. He cannot avoid it. Blood and cum keep dripping
from his ravaged asshole, his face aches with the bruises from the slaps and
punches, the pain in his groin is unbearable. The fourth day the soldiers come to take Marcus with
them. The end is coming. Two of the soldiers come in and force Marcus to his
feet. Then each grabs one of his arms, sustaining him. Marcus’ body
aches and every step is an agony, but he manages to move. When they enter the court, light explodes and Marcus
tries to shield his eyes after so many hours in the dark. Marcus will be whipped, but not too much: the
governor wants to see a long agony, he doesn’t want a quick death. The
scourging is brief, but painful: the heavy whip is brought down with full
force across Marcus' shoulders, back, and legs. At first the thongs cut
through the skin only. Then, as the blows continue, they cut deeper. Marcus
is bleeding profusely. The governor stops the executioner. The heavy patibulum of the cross is tied across
Marcus’ shoulders. Marcus tries to walk erect, but in spite of his
efforts, the weight of the heavy wooden beam and the copious blood loss force
him to bend. The rough wood gouges into the lacerated skin and muscles of the
shoulders. He stumbles and falls. He rises and he falls again. The soldiers
are laughing. Finally they arrive at the top of the hill. There are two poles, for two crosses, and now Marcus
sees Simon, standing naked. One of the soldier says: - This little faggot tried to free you. He will die
with you. Marcus wants to die, he doesn’t want to live
after killing Gunner. Why was Simon meddling? He looks at Simon and he shakes
his head. Simon is crying, now. Marcus looks away. Two soldiers grab Marcus. He is quickly thrown
backward. The legionnaire feels for the depression at the front of the wrist.
In his hand there is a heavy, square, long, wrought-iron nail. Marcus looks
at it. Yes, his agony is beginning. It’s what he
wants. To reach Gunner. He is not afraid of the pain. The soldier drives the nail through the wrist and
deep into the wood. The pain is violent, but Marcus remains silent. He grits
his teeth. He is sweating. Quickly, the soldier moves to the other side and
repeats the action: he is careful not to pull the arms too tightly, but to
allow some flexion and movement: the show must be long and entertaining.
Marcus gasps. The patibulum is then put in place at the top of the
stipes. Marcus' left foot is now pressed backward against
the wood, toes down, and a nail is driven through the arch, leaving the knee
moderately flexed. The same is done with the right foot. Marcus growls like a
wounded animal. Now he is crucified. The cross is lifted. As Marcus slowly sags down with more weight on the
nails in his wrists, agonizing pain shoots along the fingers and up the arms
to explode in his brain. As Marcus pushes himself upward to avoid this
stretching anguish, he places his full weight on the nails through his feet.
Again there is the burning agony of the nails tearing through the nerves
between the bones of the feet. The soldiers look at him for a long period of time,
grinning, then they sneer and look at Simon. - Now it’s your turn, asshole! - You can die with your master. You are happy,
aren’t you? - But you have to give us something, first. - Yeah, your ass. And your mouth. Simon realizes what they are going to do to him. He
doesn’t want to be raped. He was, for a brief moment, Marcus’
man. He is not afraid of the death, but he doesn’t want to be fucked by
these men, who crucified his master, his love. He tries to resist. Soon his face is covered with
blood, and the first soldier is already fucking him. They are twelve and they
all fuck him. They force him to open his mouth and they fuck him in the
mouth, too. Then they force him to drink their piss. When they are satisfied, they lift him. Cum is
dripping from his ass, his face is a mess of blood and piss. A soldier approaches with the nails. Long, iron
nails. Simon shudders. His shoulders are forced against the wood. The soldier
drives the first nail through the wrist and deep into the wood. Simon shouts
with pain. The second nail pierces his flesh. Simon shouts again. The soldiers
laugh. When the nails are driven through his feet, Simon
doesn’t shout any more. He is crying and the soldiers are laughing at
him. - Hey, faggot! You're a great lay! The cross is lifted into place. Simon groans as he
slides deep onto the sedile. The pain makes him push up and down, trying to
find a place to relieve the torment. But there is no such place. There is
only an endless agony. Later Simon begins to pass out and to come round
alternatively. Marcus is still conscious, he is far stronger, his
agony will be longer. The soldiers mock him. - Thirsty? Do you want to drink? They piss on a sponge, then they lift it to
Marcus’ lips. He doesn't take any of the liquid. The soldiers offer the
sponge to Simon. Simon doesn’t know what he is doing. He drinks. The
soldiers laugh. They mock him. Marcus’ agony is increasingly painful. He
begins to piss, a long stream of piss and blood. As his arms fatigue, great
waves of cramps sweep over his muscles, knotting them in deep, relentless,
hammering pain. He cannot push himself upward. Hanging by his arms, the
muscles are almost paralyzed. He can draw air into his lungs, but he cannot
exhale.
Simon is dying. The soldiers watch him and laugh.
Simon has a last vision of Marcus’ cock filling him. Then one of the
soldiers takes his spear and he pierces Simon’s belly. Blood and piss
come out of the wound. Simon doesn’t breathe any more. He is a
corpse. Marcus is living hours of boundless pain, cramps,
asphyxiation. He moves up and down against the rough timber and his skin
bleeds more and more. Suddenly he feels a terrible crushing pain deep in his
chest. The soldiers are watching. The agony amuses them,
but they are beginning to feel tired. They want even more amusement. They
scratch Marcus’ hairy balls with the points of their spears. Marcus’ body is now in extremis, and he can
feel the chill of death. He begins to lose consciousness. His vision blurs. He can see Gunner, now,
Gunner’s smile, Gunner’s ass. With one last surge of strength, Marcus once again
presses his torn feet against the nails, straightens his legs, takes a deeper
breath, and utters his a cry: - Gunner! The soldiers are tired. - Oh, shit! This scoundrel won’t die! - Better put an end to this! A soldier approaches. A stroke. Marcus’ left
leg is broken. The unbearable pain awakens him. A second stroke breaks his
right leg. He cannot push himself upward; the tension cannot be
relieved from the muscles of his chest. Rapid suffocation is occurring. No
more air, pain, pain, pain. He opens his mouth to shout, but he cannot. Air,
he needs air. No more air, pain, his whole body is pain, endless pain. Darkness. A long, final shiver. Then piss and blood running down his right leg. Marcus’ and Simon’s bodies are left on
the cross for twenty-four hours. They are covered by flies. The soldiers come with some slaves to take away the
bodies. They laugh. - This one has too big a cock. The soldier saws through the base of the scrotum and
all the way up, taking Marcus’ cock and nuts off in one piece. Then the carcasses are carried to
the military camp. The slaves throw them into the latrine: Marcus and Simon
have a tomb of piss and shit. |
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