Twist Of Destiny
He moved so swiftly that I had no time to take more than two steps before his left arm came around my waist and Maximus brought me against him. My back slammed against the living wall of his chest and his manhood, hard as an iron pole, hot as a burning coal and heavily curved against his belly rested between my buttocks. I cried and struggled. Maximus' breath was warm against my ear and he dragged me to the table where our cold meal remained untouched. I went on struggling but my movements only managed to leave me breathless in no time and I gave up when I noticed that the only thing I was achieving was rubbing my already heated skin against his rock hard muscles. In a haze of fear and lust, I was more aware than ever about the slick pool between my legs.
He pressed me against the table and tightened his arm around my waist, hoisting me up till I was standing on the balls of my feet and I was forced to double over it to keep my balance, managing in the meantime to rub his manhood hard with my buttocks. I felt the first drops of his hot seed drip along the crevice between them and I stilled. Maximus stopped too then kicked my legs wide apart, planted his firmly between them and before I could even anticipate the next movement, he rammed himself inside me. My mind screamed, yet only a strangled sound came from my throat as air left me in a rush and my hands flailed, desperately looking for something to anchor myself to. My palms slapped the top of the table so hard that it hurt and the dishes rattled with combined impact of them and Maximus' forceful thrust.
I was an experienced woman. I had loved my husband and he had loved me. I had loved the marriage bed and Valerius had loved it too. I had never been shy yet I had been worried about my wedding night, not because I was afraid of what my husband would do to me but because I was afraid he would reject my curiosity and desire regarding them as improper of a woman of our class. Yet Valerius had taught me from the very first time that he wanted everything that I brought to his bed be it my curiosity or my passion and we had enjoyed every minute of intimacy we had shared during our marriage. I pitied those women who thought about it as their duty and simply submitted to it in order to produce the children their husbands expected from them. I pitied those women who understood what intimacy was but suffered unwanted attentions while lying on their backs, unresponsive and rigid, praying to whatever goddess they favour that, their men hurry up and get them with child so they would be free of them for some months.
And when I became a widow, I was ashamed to find myself missing the heat and strength of a man in my bed. But I had never come to love again so after a time I instead came to terms with the needs of my body and took a couple of men to my bed. I chose them for their potential as lovers, men who showed the promise to use me hard while I used them hard as well, leaving me satiated and exhausted even if they could not fill the hollowness in my heart. I understood women who took their male slaves to bed and those who choose to pay for their pleasures and have a gladiator serve them as their husbands are unable or unwilling to do. I was never afraid of passion. Of need. Of desire. I knew my body and my pleasures and how to obtain them. Yet nothing had prepared me for this.
Nothing had prepared me for Maximus panting and naked against my back.
Nothing had prepared me for him thick, hard and so deep between my legs.
No man had ever filled me so completely that it seemed there was no room in my body even for breath.
He remained immobile, his forehead resting against my shoulder, my loose hair plastered over his damp chest, his manhood painfully throbbing inside my sheath. For a moment, there was no other sound in the room but our combined, rasping breath. Then Maximus flexed his hips and retreated nearly all the way out of my body and I whimpered both at the delicious friction of his engorged shaft and out of fear of losing him.
I should not have worried. He thrust back with all his strength. Once. Twice. Three times.
By the time he came, I was already squirming in his tight embrace, trying to somehow gain release for my own, aroused body. He climaxed in a hot rush as his hoarse cry echoed in the walls of my bedroom, braced himself with his free hand against the table then rested heavily against my back, his breath uneven and his heart beating so furiously I could feel it reverberating inside my own chest.
I bit my lip to somehow control the frustration that gnawed at my belly. Despite coming, Maximus was still thick and hard inside me, filling me so completely that it was painful yet the hurt felt good. So shamefully good... I turned my face till my cheek rubbed against his own. Trapped between his body and the table, doubled at the waist, my hands supporting both of our weight, there was no way I could move or ease my need.
"Touch me..." I whispered. "Touch me..."
Maximus did not seem to hear me, lost as he was in the fog of the drug. With a supreme effort I shifted on the balls of my feet and rocked my buttocks against his belly, trying to obtain the friction which could very well increase my arousal yet not give me release. But anything was preferable to remaining immobile while he kept me impaled yet unsatisfied. He gasped and tightened his arm around my waist, trying to control my movements, to prevent me from riding his still aching manhood.
"Touch me..." I repeated. "Maximus, touch me ... touch me..."
I squirmed and wriggled while I tried to reach some degree of freedom and rubbed my calves against his trying to have him change the angle of his penetration... but he was not ready to allow me have my way. He kicked my legs wider apart and hooked my ankles with his to prevent me from moving then put his right hand on my neck and pushed my head down, forcing me to raise my hips higher... He slid even deeper and I half cried and half sobbed as he reached the ultimate depths of my body then started thrusting again.
I moaned and gasped cried in rhythm with his powerful movements, each thrust driving me higher and higher yet I sobbed for I knew that no matter how high he took me I would not reach the release I so desperately needed. Not with him taking me from behind and denying me the touch of his fingers against my throbbing core.
"Touch me..." I said again and now I was shamelessly begging. "Touch me..." If he had at least caressed my breasts, rubbed my nipples between his fingers! They are extremely sensitive and perhaps I could reach release...
Tears were running down my cheeks as the rhythm of Maximus' lust-crazed body drove mine towards another form of madness for I was sure the lack of completion would drive me insane.
"Touch ..." I could never finish the sentence for Maximus roared like a lion as he came for a second time and I burst into anguished, frustrated sobs.
We remained like this for a long moment - him panting, me sobbing - then he straightened his back and raised me against him. I relaxed a little as he eased my legs and rested against his heaving chest, our bodies still engaged. He took a step back, dragging me with him. Then, he took another and stumbled against a chair. He lost his balance and sat down, pulling me with him. The impact of the fall drove him once more deeply inside me and I gasped at the unexpected, extra sensation. Maximus somehow relaxed and rested his body against the back of the chair while he kept me tight against him. Exhausted, I rested against him, my head on his shoulder, unable to handle the events of the last half-hour.
Somehow, I must have dozed, at least for a moment or so, because I lost the trail of my thoughts and the throbbing of my lower body receded to a dull, tolerable ache. But I was brought back to reality - whatever reality had turned out to be - by a smooth, rippling movement. Confused as I was, my senses fogged by exhaustion, it took me a moment or so to realise where I was and how had I come to be sitting on Maximus' bare thighs, my buttocks cradled against his lower belly, his manhood still hard and deep inside my aching sheath. He was still lying against the back of the chair, eyes closed, his breathing more even. But his skin burned like the African sun and his right hand was moving as if on its own volition, absently tracing a trail of fire up my inner thigh. I gasped and the feeling of those calloused fingers against my skin; those blunt, sun tanned fingers that seemed more adequate to handle a sword or till the soil than to offer a caress. Yet I could not imagine anything more desirable that the gentle stroking he was offering me even without knowing what he was doing. I moved against him, silently urging his fingers to move higher over my thigh, urging them to come closer to the source of my heat and need but he merely moved them back and forth, again and again. Offering me but a light touch when I was begging for the crude fondling that would finally give me the release I so badly needed.
I moved again, undulating my hips and I heard him gasp as his fingers stopped and painfully dug in my flesh, seemingly trying to keep me still as he had tried before. Did he still retain some notion of what was happening to him? Did he still retain some kind of hold over his mind if not his body and was trying to prevent his need from taking over again? My body stopped struggling as if on its own accord and before I could realize what I was doing, I arched my back against Maximus' chest, then raised my legs and hooked my knees on the arms of the chair, spreading myself wider than I had ever been. My whole wanton need was exposed in such a way that it was a good thing that my polished mirror was on the other side of the bedroom. For if I had been able to see my reflection in it - open, impaled, lusting as I had never done before - I had have died of shame.
The movement brought Maximus even deeper into my body. I felt him shift behind me, his muscles rippling, his sweat bathing me and turning my body as slick as his. I looked down and I shuddered at the deep contrast between his tanned skin and my milky one. The black leather of his wrist bands even a deeper, erotic and intense contrast against the nakedness of the both of us.
"Touch me..." I asked him softly.
Maximus murmured something I could not understand. Was he dreaming? Did the drug induce not only lust but also visions and dreams? And if so, what was he dreaming about? Did he imagine that it was his dead wife he was holding in his arms? Did he imagine it was his dead wife he was filling so deeply that it was pleasure and pain at the same time?
"Touch me..." I asked him again as I rocked my hips. He moaned and moved in accord, the delicious friction where our bodies joined burning with renewed flames.
"Touch me..." I asked now nearly frantic, the sole idea of being unable to reach my release another time too much to be accepted. I increased my movements and he dug his fingers even deeper in my thigh yet he caught my rhythm with no hesitation. Now we were moaning in unison as we rose higher and higher in the search of fulfilment, yet I knew I was not going to get it.
"Damn it! Touch me! Touch me!" I half sobbed, half raged. I could have touched myself, helped myself gain release for my hands were neither busy nor restrained. I knew how to do it. I had no fear of doing it yet... yet... something deep inside myself demanded that it was Maximus who brought me to the painfully needed climax.
Gathering all my strength, I grabbed his right hand and forced it to ease its hold of my thigh, absently noticing that his fingers had bruised the tender flesh. Then I dragged it down, towards my aching core. He did not offer resistance, lost as he was in his pursuit of completion. My belly tightened even more painfully when the increased heat alerted my swollen bud about the nearness of his fingers and without hesitation I brought them to their destination, then pressed them down...
I screamed when those calloused fingers rasped against my most sensitive flesh. I screamed without shame or restrain as I used them to rub my centre or perhaps I simply kept them steady while I rubbed myself against them. I don't know. I don't remember. For orgasm clashed on me with the force of a sea storm and I shattered in a thousand pieces as Tyrian glass does when it falls to the floor. My body convulsed around his with such intensity that it was painful yet I remember my mind screaming for more. Or perhaps it was not my mind but I was really screaming for the pleasure not to end, for the pleasure to go on and on even when I was sure if it went on I would not survive for my heart would burst inside my chest. Whatever it was, Maximus' fingers did not stop rubbing my needy flesh, driving me on and on, prolonging the pleasure till I was sure - completely sure - I was going to die. They did not stop even when his buttocks and belly tightened beneath his own climax and he broke in a series of scalding hot jets as he groaned and moaned.
When it was over, when I started recovering my senses, I noticed I was shuddering badly and sobbing as if my heart was going to break. Instead, Maximus had gone limp and his hand felt heavy against my battered crotch. I closed my eyes and remained like this for what seemed a long time, allowing myself to recover even if I knew that would never be possible. When I regained my breath, I moved tentatively, slowly lowering my legs then raising myself, carefully pushing Maximus' hand away. He did not react or offer resistance and with even greater care I disengaged from him. The last and prolonged orgasm had finally eased his erection and I had no trouble freeing myself yet I winced as I did it and grimaced when I stood up and tentatively took my first step.
I gasped as muscles that had not ached since I had given birth to Valeria painfully rushed back to life. And I blushed redder than I had ever done when I felt our mingled essence drip down my legs in a hot trail that tickled along my skin. Stumbling, I reached for my night table and grabbed one of the towels my maid had piled up there in preparation for the events that were supposed to take place in my bedroom. Events that had never been in my plans and which had come to happen out of what seemed but some sinister mockery.
I winced once more as I cleaned myself with the help of a washcloth and some water then dried and stiffly padded towards my dressing table and went through the contents of the many drawers with shaking hands till I found a small vial of almond oil. I was tender between my legs, swollen and more than a little sore. I took some drops of oil in my fingers and gently rubbed myself, flushing once more at the memory of the way my flesh had responded to Maximus' own. Absentmindedly I took note to prepare a concoction of mint leaves to ease the burning. But that would be later. Now I had to check on Maximus.
He remained on the chair, dozing exhausted and bathed in sweat, smelling of man, sex and satiation. I lightly touched his cheek and he opened his beautiful blue-green eyes and I swear that for a moment those irises were lucid and he saw me, he really saw me and the faintest smile appeared on his handsome face. He was satiated. He was relaxed. He was complete.
"Maximus," I told him softly, "I will give you a sponge bath. It will help you feel... better. But I cannot move you for you are too heavy for me. Please, make an effort and take yourself to the bed..."
As I spoke, I firmly grabbed his upper arm and tugged. Maybe my words reached his mind or he simply understood the gesture but he rose slowly then got his feet and stood up. He allowed me to guide him to the bed as if he was a weary child and as soon as we were at it, Maximus eased himself down. By the moment his head hit the feather mattress, he was sound asleep.
BACK HOME NEXT