(Tending to prove the adage that precious few battle plans survive the first skirmish intact...)
A hopeless situation was on full display. The overflow crowd that filled the coliseum oohed and aahhed, loudly cheering on their favorites as they watched the battles being waged in the center of the arena below.
He panted and gasped in the iron grasp of a headlock. They were lying on the ground now, both of them, having tumbled and come to a wrestling stalemate as she worked to consolidate her position of control over the massive man she had come to battle. The position they had come to had him atop her, with his back upon her chest, with his head pinioned by her arm as it was locked around his neck in what is called a "sleeper hold". From such a position, she could easily tighten her grip on his neck and cut off the supply of blood to his brain, rendering him unconscious in a matter of moments. All she had to do was hang on long enough. She further secured her advantage by wrapping her legs, in scissor fashion, around his own upper legs such that he could in no way disengage her hold on him.
The powerful gladiator struggled to overcome her advantage, kicking up the dust with his bare feet, twisting and turning, trying any way he could to escape the strangle hold. It had been a stupid mistake, he knew, to allow her close enough to catch him in her embrace. But she was so small, so very fair of build compared to him, and the threat hardly seemed real. As his strength faded, he tried to push away from her with his free hand while the other desperately stroked away at her moist love cavern, to no avail.
He could not fathom why this warrior woman did not so much as flinch, much less swoon, at the well-practiced ministrations of his fingers upon her slit as he sought to gain her submission. That part of her was as sopping wet as any of the other countless maidens he'd fought and overcome, and then churned and cummed from his balls before, but this one's resolve remained solid, even as his own will to conquer faded in direct relation to his rapidly engorging member that she delicately stroked now.
Worse still, in his mind, was the embarrassment he felt at being humiliated at the hands of such a small she-warrior, as viewed by the shouting throngs around them which filled the coliseum. The cheering that met his ears was more boisterous, charged with excitement and lust than had ever been heard before despite only half the crowd cheering.
The men were used to victory, constantly watching female contenders laid low and plowed mercilessly, like fertile fields, by their male opponents, before being cock-vored and reduced to seed for the next contender to be fertilized with. In this world, that was how such battles, such sporting events, were routinely played out. Strength borne of anatomical advantage played a decisive role in the way things typically went in the arena, after all.
But this day was proving to be different- after the short, busty woman with her wide hips sauntered into the ring exuding an air of supreme confidence. As she stripped away her chastity armor and approached the man looming over her, all the while fingering herself into an obvious state of high arousal. What had seemed at first like it would be little more than a willing suicide in the arena of erotic gladiatorial combat, especially in a match against the emperor's favored gladiator, was now taking an unexpected, but no less glorious turn. That champion, a grizzled bear of a man un-felled by any number of female combatants, as were all ultimately tamed, captured and turned into viscous slop within his loins, was now clearly locked in a battle for his own life.
Her pale skin, lustrously thick and long dark hair, and hourglass build, marked this opponent as belonging to one of the southern tribes of the land, who had come to be rumored as being able to kill by inspiring desire, vanquishing enemies through lust, and conquering those they sought to overcome without ever resorting to war.
When first they entered the capital city they numbered in the hundreds but included in their number only a few men, who were obviously retained as slaves. Most were beautiful women bearing gifts for the emperor and trading goods in the marketplaces. The ruling men had allowed them to enter without worry. For how could such a small contingent of women hope to conquer anything but the aqueducts- the only worry being whether the channels that drained the arena and irrigated the grain fields would overflow from carrying even more white and tender cum as would be the sole remains of so many more previously feminine forms as would be led to contend in the arena.
But now, with his body suffocating as he lay firmly wedged in the crook of her arm as it stifled the flow of life blood to his brain, and with his male member pumping squirt after squirt of white fluid upon the dry sand in obedience to her relentlessly masturbating him with her free hand, the ruling men could see for the first time they had much to fear.
The men of the stadium now sat in stony silence. The women accompanying them, however, cheered with an enthusiasm unknown to them before. A victory for a woman, in these erotic battles to the death, was rare and when obtained was usually through attrition bred of multiple women having been churned by a gladiator before the man tired to the point where, well, brute strength didn't carry the day.
