DISCLAIMER: Xena, Gabrielle, Argo, etc. are
©copyright MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures. I don’t own them, I just play
with them for a while and, like the good girl I am, I put them back when I’m
done…okay, they get a little worn, but hey…I play hard! Absolutely no Copyright
infringement was intended in the writing of this fiction. It’s intended as flattery
toward the creators, writers, and actors of the characters. All other characters that
appear are ©copyright Devlin@xenafan.com. This story cannot be sold or used for profit in
any way. Copies may be made for private use only and I’d appreciate if you included
all copyright notices and this disclaimer.
VIOLENCE WARNING: There is violence (come on
it’s the Conqueror). The nature of the story is not nearly as dark as some Conqueror
fiction, but it’s essence is still the slave / master relationship that exists
between Xena & Gabrielle.
TIMELINE: My own making. Xena is the Lord,
Conqueror of Greece, but she is almost forty-five years old when she meets the slave,
Gabrielle. Many of Xena’s evil ways have been sedated, but not all. I call this Xena
the “thinking woman’s” Conqueror. She is a woman who wants to try to do the
right thing, but doesn’t always know how.
SEX: Yes, I’ll have some, thank you. Ooops! I mean, yes there is. It is our favorite
two Soulmates, after all. It’s not gratuitous, but it is quite explicit when it gets
going. This story shows consensual as well as non-consenting love (master/slave), sex and
yes, even some light bdsm between two adult females.
HIGH ANGST WARNING: I was threatened within an
inch of my life if I didn’t start putting this disclaimer on some (all?) of my work.
I will henceforth rate the angst content with sad faces, one being the lowest and four
being the highest. This story earns: L L
(2 sad faces for those without TT Fonts)
UNDERAGE WARNING: Hey, the Supreme Court said in Reno v. American Civil Liberties Union (1997) that
laws against making available, online, certain “indecent” materials for those
under 18 was unconstitutional…look it up! Besides, this is perfectly
“decent.” J
I only know
how others feel about my stories from feedback. Let me know what you think...homophobes
need not apply, however. I’m at: Devlin@xenafan.com
**Special thanks to Jim Kuntz for his permission in using any Lion of Amphipolis references.
The Conqueror Series
Tale One: Journey’s End
By LJ Maas
Prologue
What an odd
place to start a tale, at the end, but that is the way she says it is to be told and who
am I to argue. I am only the ruler of this land known as Greece and she my slave, but even
that will change in three days time. My birth name is Xena, I am from Amphipolis, but most
of this land knows me by my title, Lord Conqueror. It has been many seasons since anyone
has called me Xena, yet now I hear it everyday, and it thrills my heart. I never would
have known how exciting the sound of my own name rolling from a lover’s tongue could
be, had it not been for her.
She tells me
I am getting ahead of myself, talking about her, and I shush her and push her away from my
writing table. First, she wants me to start at the end, now she says I go too fast. Gods,
she is the paradox of my life. She alone holds the power to cause me to fall on my knees,
professing my love for her. She alone can inflame me to moments of kindness and passion,
and it is her also who can anger me until my arms go weak with the strain of not striking
out at her. She is light and I am dark. I used to think I could survive alone in my
darkness, but it was she who told me that dark does not exist without light, that we would
not know one, if it were not for the other.
Now she
tells me to explain what I mean by starting at the end. I hand her the quill and tell her
to write since she obviously thinks I cannot. She smirks at me and turns away and I
realize it was not that long ago that she would have been beaten to death for an act of
insolence like that, and yes, beaten by me. My life has only held darkness, death, and
destruction since my fifteenth summer. Numerous bards have regaled you with tales of my
life already so I will not repeat the details here. Suffice to say that all the dark,
hateful, lewd things that you have read about Xena, the Conqueror are absolutely true. Oh,
there may be a few that have exaggerated, but most paint an accurate portrait of me. At
least that was the me of my youth. I was filled with unquenchable appetites, of which sex
and bloodlust where only two. I was insatiable whether it was in bed or on the battlefield
and my temper and my orgies were both legendary.
I was in my
forty-fourth summer when she came into my life. That is what I mean by starting at the
end. Not that forty-four is by any means the end of my life, for now it feels like only
the beginning, but I came to a point, before she came, where it certainly felt like the
end. It is true that once I passed the age of forty, I finally began an attempt to temper
my darkness, but only just. I was still a woman prone to violent fits of rage and
jealousy, and my libido was still as strong as a warrior half my age, but by the time I
was 44, I was slowing, not physically, but mentally. It was mostly because my life seemed
very empty, that the only thing that surrounded me everyday was loneliness. The absolute
truth is that for the better part of my life I neither cared nor loved anyone, well
almost, but I suddenly felt alone because of it. Therefore, instead of becoming bitter in
my solitude, I worked at becoming better. I began to temper my judgments with leniency; I
tried not to destroy things when I lost my temper, and most of all I tried very hard to
treat the people around me, slave or nobleman, with more respect than I had in the past. I
suddenly felt my age. I think many of those close to me thought it was madness or
senility, although I noticed they never asked for the old Xena back. I’ll admit that
there were days when my newfound maturity was thrown out with the bathwater and I reverted
back to my old ways, but I tried, nonetheless.
The truth is
that the story of the Conqueror does not begin until she
steps into the tale. For, the tale of the Conqueror cannot be accurately told without
telling of Gabrielle.
Chapter 1: A Meeting with
Destiny
“Lord
Conqueror, it is an honor to fight beside you in battle.” The Governor of Thessaly
said as he grasped my strong arm with an equally powerful hand.
I had been
brooding of late, missing what I didn’t have, yet unable to formulate what the
missing factor was in my life that caused me to be so out of sorts. The small civil war
that broke out on the coast, near Ambracia, gave me a reason to get out of the palace at
Corinth. I think I surprised quite a few men on the battlefield today, my own as well as
the enemy. The bloodlust no longer ran as strong in me, but it was enough to turn me into
a terror on the field of war.
“Tell,
me Telamon,” I asked the Governor, “Do you expect any more trouble from these
coastal pirates?”
Telamon was
a short man, yet full of muscle, and the appointed official laughed heartily. “I
believe, Lord Conqueror, that all I will have to do in the future is to tell them that the
Conqueror of Greece will ride against them and they will scurry like rats from a burning
ship.”
A number of
cries and one or two screams were heard from the great hall and we all seemed to move that
way as the female prisoners were brought through. It was customary for the official of the
area to take his pick of the female prisoners before they were sold as slaves on the
auction block. So, Telamon’s Lieutenant, Darius, brought the lot through for
inspection.
“Lord
Conqueror,” Telamon began, “I respectfully offer to you, my customary pick.
I sighed.
They always did this, thinking to gain my favor. Some, honorable men like Telamon, did it
simply because it was the respectful thing to do. Only problem was that I hated it. Oh,
there was a time when I would try to ascertain which among them was a virgin, then
that’s the one I would break in as my newest body slave, but life was much different
for me now. I hadn’t shared my bed with anyone beyond the occasional whore for the
past two seasons. It worried me at times, as to why my sexual drive deserted me. However,
I still had a reputation to keep up, so I usually took a girl and made a great pretense of
sitting her on my lap all night while my soldiers and I drank until dawn. I would make
sure everyone heard my lewd remarks and saw the way I touched her. Then when the sun came
up, I would end up passing out in bed and the next day my captain, Atrius, would find the
girl work in the castle kitchen.
I fixed a
leer on my face and added a little exaggerated swagger to my stride as I strolled past the
women, young and old, that had been taken from the pirates. Most left quite a bit to be
desired and I was just to the point of refusing the Governor’s first choice when two
women stepped apart and behind them a blonde head hung down, staring at her bare feet.
Now, I don’t know why the girl caught my attention. I couldn’t even see her face
and she was a tiny thing, Gods, I’d probably break her like a twig if I’d had
any inclination to bed her. There was something about this one though.
When I
walked toward the girl the people in front of her stepped away. She never looked up, but
she must have known I stood before her by the shadow I made across her body. I reached out
two fingers and lifted her chin. I’m not sure how long I stood there not breathing,
but I know that I had to clear my throat to cover the large gulp of air I finally took in.
She had irises the color of an early morning forest, all lush and green. She tried to
lower her eyes from mine even though I now held her chin firmly tilted up in my grasp.
“Look
at me.” I ordered and she hesitantly raised her eyes to meet mine.
She seemed
unable to fix her eyes on me and lowered them again, submissively. I moved my hand up to
brush away the locks of dirty blonde hair that fell across her face, that’s when I
saw it. When my hand moved toward her, she flinched. Not physically, but I saw it in her
eyes. Her eyes drew back and I realized she must have been a slave for most of her life,
for one so young to act this way.
“What
is your name?” I asked, but before she could answer, there was a chorus of muffled
snorts and laughter from the soldiers.
I turned,
glaring toward Darius, Telamon’s Lieutenant, for explanation.
“Forgive
the outburst, Lord Conqueror, but you may want to choose again.”
“And,
why is that?” I asked.
“This
one’s been used so much even the soldiers don’t want her.” He answered to
more snickers from the men.
I turned
back to the young girl. “I asked you what your name was.”
“Gabrielle,
My Lord.” She answered and I new I was in trouble. Those eyes were drawing me in and
that voice, it sounded as smooth as silk when she spoke. The odd thing is that she called
me, My Lord, as if she belonged to me already. No one called me anything but Lord
Conqueror.
Then, tears
began to fill her eyes, as the men could not stifle their laughter. She didn’t try to
wipe them away or pull back from me and I felt the wetness splash onto my fingers.
“Why do
you cry girl? Is it because Darius here lies?” I prodded, wishing she would stop her
tears. I didn’t understand why, but they made me feel uneasy.
“No, My
Lord.” she responded softly. “My tears are because the Lieutenant speaks the
truth.” and suddenly the whole room went silent.
I’m
still not sure why, but I heard my own voice as if someone else were using it.
“Atrius,” I called to my captain. “See that she is taken to my quarters,
fed, bathed and dressed properly. I may have need of her services.”
When I
turned to leave the great hall I paused momentarily to see if any of the soldiers had
enough nerve, or stupidity, to laugh now. No one did. They never do.
*********************
I was
feeling my wine to be sure, but the satisfying fact was that most of the men who
challenged me to the drinking contest passed out long ago. Content in the knowledge that I
still had a bit of my youth left, I walked out of the banquet hall on the way to my room.
I must have been listing to port slightly because Atrius was suddenly there and I had to
rely on him to lead the way to my quarters or I could have been wandering the halls all
night.
“Will
there be anything else this evening, Lord Conqueror?” he asked as I opened my door.
“No,
I’m done in for the night.” I called after him once he turned to go.
“Atrius…um…thank you.”
Atrius never
spoke much. He bowed his head slightly and gave me a small grin. We were both warriors and
he knew how hard I was trying to become a more gracious ruler, let alone a decent human
being. He accepted my hesitant thanks with a civility that was unique for a soldier.
I entered my
room and nearly fell over the girl who sat, kneeling at the foot of my bed.
“Who in
Hades are you?” I shouted at her. She surprised me and I don’t like surprises.
The small
face instantly looked up in alarm and I barely recognized this beauty with her golden hair
and freshly scrubbed face.
“Oh.”
I said, unable to think of anything else to say. I recognized the slave that I selected
earlier, but just barely.
She bowed
her head again and seemed to be waiting for me to command her in some way. It’s been
quite some time since I owned a body slave and I have grown rather unaccustomed to this
behavior. She was breathtaking now that she was cleaned up and I noticed my personal maid
dressed her in one of my older silk robes. It was rather large on the small frame and hung
off one shoulder, exposing lovely pale skin. If she hadn’t planned that maneuver
herself, she should have. It was as seductive as it could be.
I admit I
wasn’t very sober, but I crossed the room to get a glass of wine anyway. After
I’d downed about half the glass I turned and the girl was in the same submissive
posture, kneeling on the floor at the foot of my bed. I can only assume that’s what
she’d been taught. Either that, or Sylla, my maid instructed her to do so.
My libido
went south on me in the last season or so, but as I stared at the small blonde, her hair
falling forward from her bowed head, covering her face, I felt a warm need clench at my
belly. I gulped down the rest of the wine to beat back the headache I could feel coming
on. My neck was beginning to get stiff, and my back ached, a sure sign that I would have
one Tartaurus of a hangover in the morning.
I walked to
the bed and sank heavily onto the soft mattress. My fingers were having a hard time
working the laces of my shirt and I finally gave up. What was this girl’s name?
“What’s
your name again?” I gave in and asked.
“Gabrielle,
My Lord.”
“Gabrielle,
I need you.” I responded and she stood in front of me and let her robe fall to the
floor.
All I could
do was stare at the gorgeous body in front of me. For being a slave, she had few if any
lash marks on her body. Usually there’s only one reason for keeping a slave in good
condition like this and that is if they’re good at what they do. That thought made
another white-hot bolt of warmth sear through my belly.
“Put
your robe back on, Gabrielle.” I said quickly, looking at my own boots.
I had no
idea why I was holding back from simply taking the girl, it’s what I usually did. If
I saw something I wanted, I made it mine. Well, it’s what I used to do. I was trying
not to terrorize young women so much anymore. It started to get empty somewhere along the
way, having women in my bed that were there simply because I commanded it to be so. I felt
something beyond physical lust for this small blonde, and that worried me, but I
didn’t feel like facing that kind of a demon tonight.
Gabrielle
reached for her robe and I could see the confusion written across her features. I could
also tell why the soldiers downstairs didn’t want her.
Those kind
of men wanted a woman to fight back a little, so even if it wasn’t true, they could
think they were bad asses by taking women against their will, as if taking a defenseless
woman that way made a man out of anyone. I looked down at the slave that knelt and bowed
her head in front of me. Who rode all the fight out of you, little one? It probably
wasn’t one, but a hundred different masters. She existed in a slave’s world by
cowering and apologizing, and begging forgiveness. She did as she was told, exactly when
she was told, and she stayed alive for it. She was a young girl, but I don’t think
I’ve ever seen a person, man, or woman, whose eyes displayed such absolute and utter
defeat before. She didn’t even appear to know how to think for herself, and why
bother. She must have spent most of her life being told what to do and when to do it.
I’m sure she learned at a very young age that slaves who think don’t live long.
“Forgive
me, My Lord, I thought…I didn’t mean to presume that you wanted to be
pleasured.” She apologized.
“I
don’t…I mean I do, look…just not tonight, okay?” I
uncharacteristically stammered. I think I was a little disappointed that her body was
covered again.
“Help
me undress, Gabrielle.” I commanded and immediately she set about the task.
She removed
my boots, not even caring that they were still covered in dried blood and mud from the
battle.
“You
can wash your hands in the bowl over there, there’s water in the pitcher.” If I
hadn’t of said anything, I’m sure she would have wiped her hands on herself
before removing the rest of my garments.
She untied
the laces of my shirt and I pulled the top over my head. She looked up only once, as if
seeking permission to continue, when she prepared to remove the breeches I wore under my
trousers. It was the last item of clothing I had on and she paused. For some reason I
wasn’t sure if I wanted her hands that close to my need and I removed the underwear
myself.
I rolled
into the middle of the bed and lay on my stomach, my arms wrapping around the softness of
a pillow. The sheets felt cool against my naturally heated skin and I breathed deeply at
the smell of the fresh linen. The smell reminded me of a time very long ago, when I was a
small child.
“A
backrub, Gabrielle. That’s what I need.” I finally mumbled to the kneeling girl.
I heard her
robe fall to the floor again and I this time I permitted her to disrobe. I figured that I
was naked; she might as well be too. I spread my legs apart and she took the silent
invitation to kneel there and begin to knead the muscles in the small of my back. Those
small hands had an incredible strength to them, while feeling gentle and sensuous at the
same time, and I slowly began to feel my muscles become warm and pliant under her touch.
When she moved to another spot, it seemed as if she knew exactly where my pains and old
injuries were and gravitated toward them first.
She popped
some bones in my back and I could feel the ache lessening already. When she moved to my
shoulder I think I must have winced, because she apologized profusely. She kept up the
massage in the painful area, going slower with each circle of her hand and suddenly
paused.
“This
might hurt, My Lord. Shall I continue?” she asked.
I grunted my
approval, and I could feel the weight of her small frame press in on her hand. There was
an audible pop and a sharp pain that begin to recede right away. I realized the shoulder I
dislocated on a routine basis, must not have been replaced correctly. I popped it out
again during the battle this morning. I made a mental note to remember to visit the
Governor’s battlefield healer again before I returned to Corinth. He and I needed to
have a talk about his abilities.
“Where
did you learn how to do this?” I finally asked, trying not to groan in pleasure while
I spoke.
“One of
my masters had a healer who was from the land of Chin. He was very happy to teach me the
ways of his art, My Lord.”
I was well
acquainted with Chin and with the healing arts from that land. I learned quite a bit in my
youth from a lover that I had briefly. I hadn’t thought of Lao Ma in quite a long
time. She was perhaps the only woman who ever loved me for myself. I had nothing then, I
was young and wild and she tamed me for a spell. I was also brash, foolish, and consumed
with a lust for power. When I left her and the land she loved, I thought I would never go
back there again. I did, some ten seasons later. I slit the throat of the Emperor who
called himself the Green Dragon. I never knew who he was, but once I arrived in Chin I was
told that he tortured and killed Lao Ma for her peaceful beliefs. Why she allowed him to,
I will never understand. She possessed a mighty power and I wonder to this day, why she
never used it on the bastard.
I felt
Gabrielle lean into me and rub small circles into my lower back with the heel of her hand.
I could feel her thighs pressing against the insides of mine and when she leaned her
weight in to place more pressure on her hand, I felt the silky curls covering her mound
lightly brush against my backside, and that warmth in my lower belly returned with a
vengeance. She paused momentarily when she reached my hips, as if she didn’t know in
which direction to continue. I wasn’t quite ready to give up the feeling of her hands
on my body and so I commanded her to continue.
“Lower,”
was the only order I gave.
I held the
pillow in my arms tighter as she kneaded the flesh of my backside, wondering if she had
any idea how wet she was making me. She eventually moved down each thigh and along the
backs of my legs, and the things she did with her thumbs against the arch of my foot
caused me to moan in pleasure.
It was the
first sound I made and I believe it startled her. By the time she slowly worked her way up
to my backside again, the sounds coming from my throat were continuous. It was a little
hard to hide my desire at this point since I was sure she could see how drenched my sex
was. Partly it was the wine, but the other part was the wonderful things this girl was
doing to my body with her massage. I couldn’t remember if I’d ever let any man
or woman take me in such a submissive position, but I pulled one knee up, spreading myself
open and issued one command.
“Touch
me.” I rasped.
She knew
what I wanted and I could tell by her hesitant touch that she wondered at the position
herself. She left one hand to continue kneading the flesh of my buttock and her fingers
worked their magic in the wet flesh between my legs. It was like throwing cold water on a
red-hot piece of steel. I was surprised there wasn’t steam and I groaned long and
loud at the exquisite touch.
I remembered
a time when three women could pleasure me at once and I never made a sound, being in
control every step of the way. Even in my release, I was always in command of the pleasure
I was receiving. I don’t know if it was the alcohol or not, but I think I lost
control the minute I let this girl touch me. Now she was between my legs and I was moaning
out a plea for her not to stop.
It quickly
became apparent why Gabrielle had not a mark on her. She was extremely good at what she
did. I ground my hips into the mattress to try to force her hand harder against my clit.
It wasn’t enough and I growled in frustration.
“Inside…now!”
I commanded and I grunted, feeling a warm sensation of gratification wash over me.
She slipped
her fingers inside of me and I pushed back hard, impaling myself even further. It’s
been so long since I felt any of this, a desire to take someone, let alone allow anyone to
fuck me. I was lost to how it looked or how it sounded to anyone else. It felt damned
incredible and I didn’t want the pleasure to end.
She kept
perfect pace with her thrusting, to match the speed my hips dictated. Her free hand moved
and she splayed her fingers across by backside, moving her thumb along the crack toward my
center. She continued that way, back and forth, spreading my own juices up until I felt
where she was headed. She paused and began to gently rub the puckered flesh at that dark
opening, pressing lightly, but not penetrating. Frankly, the sensation was driving me
wild.
In all my
years, no one ever touched me there and I’ve experienced sexual pleasure from some of
the best. My refusal to ever allow anyone access to that part of my body was something
that I couldn’t explain, as if I had one piece of myself I would never give up, but
it was all flying out the window now. Gabrielle kept up the thrusting of her fingers
inside me and I could feel how close I was. She continued to run her thumb back down to
pick up more lubrication, returning and pressing a little harder each time. Finally, she
stopped and pushed against the reluctant opening, her thumb covered in my own wetness. I
could feel her slide inside me the smallest bit and suddenly I craved the sensation of her
entering me there.
“My
Lord?” she questioned, knowingly.
It was as
if, it was someone else controlling my body, as I heard my answer in my own low voice.
“Gods,
yes!” I snarled and in one smooth motion, she penetrated that tight opening with her
thumb.
She
proceeded to do what she does best, I assume, and fucked me until I thought I
couldn’t possibly hold back my release any longer. I began pushing back hard against
both of her hands moving inside me, and when I heard my own scream rip from my throat, I
thought it couldn’t possibly be me making those sounds.
She slowly
removed her thumb, but I could feel her hand still inside me and before the last tremors
of my powerful orgasm eased, she was moving her fingers inside me again. She twisted her
fingers up high and deep, rubbing the velvety spot inside and I was groaning aloud again.
She brought me to release again, and finally a third time with that technique, until my
body slumped forward in an unmistakable posture of defeat.
The battle,
the wine, and the explosive sex, all combined to drain even my body. I felt the
slave’s weight as she got up from the bed and washed her hands. Forty-four seasons in
this body were what I attributed my exhaustion to just before I passed out, face down in
my pillows.
*********************
I woke with
a start, feeling someone else in the room. The sky outside was a predawn gray and my head
throbbed painfully. I noticed a mug of water was placed on the table beside my bed and I
downed it in two gulps, realizing the slave must have left it there. Strangely considerate
for a slave, but I let my body relax in the knowledge that it was the girl whose presence
I felt. She was not in the bed beside me and I looked around the room in the scarce light
and found her.
She knelt
beside my bed, much as she had earlier in the evening. Her head bobbed and I wondered in
amazement if she was sleeping that way or struggling to stay awake. Either way, it touched
something in my sleepy brain. I hadn’t dismissed her, and like the obedient slave
that she was, she never left her position of servitude. Hades, what was her name
again? That’s it.
“Gabrielle?”
She was
alert at once, but looked up with tired emerald eyes.
“My
Lord?” she answered in a sleepy voice.
“Come
to bed, Gabrielle. When we go to Corinth you will have your own rooms, but until then,
you’ll have to sleep in my bed.” I responded.
She seemed
unsure at such an unorthodox request, but she obeyed, as I knew she would. She lay down
and left herself uncovered as a good slave would, but I was just too tired to take
advantage. I pulled the sheet over her body and rolled over, facing away from her.
“Good
night, Gabrielle.”
“Good
night, My Lord.” She answered.
I almost
laughed at the sound in her voice. She was confused and was probably thinking the
Conqueror was turning into a senile fool, as she grew older. I wondered at my treatment of
her myself. I never once cared what any woman thought of me, let alone what a slave
thought or felt. Slaves were objects; things you owned and you had every right to treat
them how you desired. They weren’t considered people, with real emotions and
feelings. I treated every piece of horseflesh I owned better than any slave I ever shared
my bed with. In twenty seasons as ruler of Greece, I don’t think I ever once felt
sorry for the life that the fates chose to call down on a slave. I just never thought
about them or their circumstances.
This girl
was affecting me all right and I heard myself saying things that I couldn’t believe
were my own thoughts. Why did I tell her where she would sleep when we returned to
Corinth? I never kept the women I was offered. Why did I say she would have rooms in the
palace? I thought of the pleasure she gave me earlier and the memory caused a tightening
between my legs. I thought of her lying completely available next to me, and although my
mind was willing, my body craved nothing more than sleep.
I knew, in
moments like this, where much of my recent melancholy came from. I spent more than half my
life doing evil, despicable things to those who were weaker or less fortunate than myself.
It took growing older to realize that the brooding anger and the actions of my youth left
me without family, friendship, or love. Somewhere deep inside, I wondered if this small
blonde, who was easily half my own age, could ease any of these losses.
I realized,
in those hazy few moments before Morpheus seduced me into his realm, that I would indeed
keep this slave, and although I didn’t fully understand why, I felt drawn to her;
drawn to her quiet and submissive obedience. And so, Gabrielle came, not only to my
palace, but also into my life. I felt needs around this small blonde that I couldn’t
always put a name to, but for the first time in my life, I fell asleep wondering what
someone else thought of me.
To be continued in Chapter 2: Testing the waters