In His Arena 1: Slave Eternal by Nasia Maksima Page A

his gaze away. To the left was a small bench and a brazier. Atop the brazier, a crock of oil. Not all gladiators used it. Some liked to fuck their conquest dry, to make it hurt.
    Cruelty was never against the Empress’s decree.
    Hektor was a killer, but he was not cruel. He stepped up to his conquest and laid a hand on the man’s back to stop his slow spin. The feel of warm skin stirred his desire, and Hektor let his hand linger. The man’s wounds had been treated. Every house had healers and leeches on hand, and the Claim was no different. Some, it was rumored, still had the touch of Rilrune, Goddess of Green and Good, and were able to heal with a touch.
    It looked like a similar healer had paid ministration to his conquest. Then again, he was Hektor Actaeon. Only the best for him.
    A leaden dread filled Hektor’s limbs, and he let his hand fall away. He was tired of all the mindless, loveless fucking. He hated that his body yearned toward this man in chains. He wanted to pluck out his eyes at lusting after a helpless, willing piece of man flesh.
    From the way the man writhed in the chains, from the way he thrust back with his ass, he had been taken before. And wanted to be taken again. He grunted and rolled his hips. “Gonna just stand there?” He thrust back again, and Hektor could see the man was stiff already, his ass cheeks clenched, sweat running down his back.
    There was no choice. If he hesitated…
    Hektor stepped up, freeing his own cock from its confinement. It sprang up, heavy, the tip damp with precum. He damned his traitorous body. The first touch of the head on the man’s hole, and he’d explode. That’s it. Think only of the pleasure. He banished his guilt, banished his memories, and resigned himself.
    At least he could sate his body and make it good for his Claim. He reached for the oil.
    Kneeling, he spread the conquest’s ass cheeks and began rolling his fingertips around that puckered hole, smearing the oil, dipping a fingertip inside. The dark scents of musk and man and sweat drove Hektor to full arousal, his cock achingly hard. He worked one, then two fingers inside the man’s hot, tight ring. He stretched and scissored, reveling in the shuddering moans from his conquest.
    Hektor yearned for a taste.
    He leaned in, burying his nose and mouth in that crease, tonguing the man’s puckered entrance. The chains creaked and groaned wildly as the gladiator ground back, shoving his ass into Hektor’s face, trying to get Hektor to spear him with his tongue.
    With a licentious groan, Hektor gave him what he wanted, licking deep inside the man’s hole, holding him open with greedy hands. Hektor worked him with fingers and tongue, getting him wet with saliva and oil. His cock throbbed in time with each thrust of his tongue. Hektor panted with raw need. He needed. He wanted . He stood, keeping his hands on the man, keeping his cheeks spread wide.
    One more glance at that glistening hole.
    Hektor nudged the slick entrance with his cock. Slowly, he began to push inside, feeding each inch of his rod into the man’s ass, tunneling in tight. The man bucked and writhed beneath him, his groans guttural, torn from his lips. The grating gyrations of the chains, the sensation of being squeezed inside another man’s body… Hektor went wild. He grabbed the man’s hips and impaled him to the hilt, lunging in with his cock, invading the man’s ass with every hard thrust.
    Lost to pleasure, sucked into that gripping hole, Hektor shouted his triumph. He leaned over, his sweaty chest against the man’s sweat-soaked back, and bit his neck, yanking at his hair. His other hand dug into his conquest’s hip, pulling him back even as Hektor shoved forward, humping the other man’s ass. Driving himself in deep. The sounds of flesh slapping flesh, Hektor’s balls smacking the man’s ass, echoed in the small space.
    Their groans joined those of the other men in rut.
    Hektor thrust in and stayed there, grinding hard