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
It would be
another two candlemarks before the sun set, but when we came upon the site for our camp,
the tents were already erected and the cooking fires properly stoked. The wagons and
workers always scouted ahead and I commended Atrius on his choice for the campsite.
I strode
into the tent and immediately felt at home, much more so than in Telamon’s castle. As
was my habit, I set up the same style of tent and requesed the same interior arrangements
for well over 20 seasons. Everything was as it should be and I yawned and stretched. I
knew that if I felt tired after a day in the saddle, my young slave was probably ready to
drop. Gabrielle impressed me, however, when she removed her own cloak and began to assist
me in removing my clothes.
Once in my
favorite silk robe, I sat back in one of my more comfortable chairs and enjoyed the goblet
of wine Gabrielle set before me. I thought it strange that she should be so strangely
intuitive of my needs considering that she only started serving me yesterday.
“My
Lord…um, may I…” she asked, pointing out of the tent.
“Of
course.” I said, rising as she wrapped her cloak around her shoulders once again. I
took my signet broach from the neck of my own cloak and clasped it in place at
Gabrielle’s throat. “This will assure that none of my soldiers get too carried
away. If you have any trouble, you come directly to me.”
The thought
of Gabrielle with another, by either force or her own will, left me feeling angry all of a
sudden. A vision of Gabrielle with another filled my brain, and the visualization caused
my jealousy to flare. This was the monster that I have tried for so many seasons to keep
at bay. I’m afraid Gabrielle was about to get her first taste of my possessiveness.
I took her
chin between my thumb and forefinger and looked her in the eye. “Let me make this
clear, Gabrielle. You belong to me. No one is to make free with either your body or your
affection. If I ever find this to be the case, you will forfeit your life on the end of my
blade. Do you understand me, girl?”
She nodded
her head, and I could literally feel the unexpected fear that swiftly spread through her.
I hadn’t meant to speak so harshly, nor let my jealousy get away from me like that.
It was important to me, for a reason that I couldn’t yet fathom, not to have
Gabrielle fear me, yet here in only one day, my demon jumped up to make itself known.
I softened a
touch, smiling down at her, and then touched my hand to her cheek. “I’m sure you
will never give me cause for such an act.”
As an
apology, it was weak, but then again, you have to understand that apologies were not my
strong suit. That’s an incredible understatement. The truth is, I have never used the
words ‘I’m sorry’ in my life, certainly never since I came of age. I have
committed acts against even those people who held faith in me. I have killed men for the
thrill it gave me to have their blood on my blade and beaten women who shared my bed,
simply for the feeling of domination and power that I equated with sexual pleasure. Some
of those unfortunates were even people I had a modicum of interest or trust in. There were
times when I would feel badly afterwards and would offer a gift or kind words in apology,
and even though I felt at times like I wanted to say the words, they never came. It was
bending, and a Conqueror never bends. I knew of no emotion, nor person, that could possess
that kind of power over me, to bring me to my knees in such a manner.
I looked
down at the frightened creature in my hold and knew that if I would only say I was sorry
for my previous statement, we might share a different relationship than that of merely
slave and master. I sadly wondered where my life would be right now, had I used those
words more often.
“Go.”
I whispered, and she left the tent quickly.
*********************
“Come
here, Gabrielle.” I called to her from where she stood, preparing my clothes for
tomorrow. If the girl continued to be so efficient, she and Sylla would soon have words. I
sat on the edge of the makeshift bed, watching as she gracefully moved toward me.
“How
may I serve you, My Lord” she responded, kneeling before me.
I took her
hands in my own and placed them on the tops of my thighs, the long silk robe I wore
covering most of my body. The heat from her palms seeped through the silk covering, and I
spread my legs, drawing her kneeling form in closer. I examined the small hands that felt
smooth compared to my own rough and callused palms. Everyone knew that a slave with skin
this soft and smooth, carried out their duties on their back. I had an urge to do
something and I felt lacking in courage. Me, the nation’s Conqueror, one time
Destroyer of Nations, losing my nerve in front of this small slave.
For some
unknown reason I wanted to kiss her. Yet, even more, I wanted to be kissed by her.
Now, of
course, I knew what kissing was, but it wasn’t something I ever did with women. Oh,
I’ve attacked a woman’s mouth, driven by lust. Using my teeth and my tongue,
I’ve showed them who was in command of their pleasure, but that wasn’t really
kissing, was it? It wasn’t the tender caress the poets say we should yearn for. It
wasn’t the innocent token that I’d seen exchanged by a pair of young lovers who
found that my private gardens made a suitable trysting place. I would watch from high
above them, from my bedroom window that looked down into the garden. I knew, even as I
witnessed the sight, that what I had in the past was different from this. What I
experienced in my life might satisfy a certain primal urge, but it never caused excitement
in my heart, or a fire in my loins. I knew that such a thing existed, but for the Lord
Conqueror, it had yet to be.
And so, I
sat there, the ruler of all Greece, a most talented concubine at my feet, and all my head
was filled with were a schoolboy’s visions of a gentle kiss. I swallowed my pride and
my fear of humiliation and decided to ask for what I wanted. After all, she was here to
serve me, and not the other way around. It would be many seasons down the road before I
would realize how arrogant that statement was.
“Gabrielle,
do you kiss?” I asked, unable to come up with a more definitive question.
“My
Lord?” she looked confused, and with every reason.
“Kissing…have
you kissed the masters that owned you before me?”
“Yes,
if it pleased them, My Lord.”
Gabrielle
was not a stupid woman by any stretch of the imagination. If she were, she would have been
killed long before now. I believe she knew what I was asking, and perhaps she even guessed
why, I can’t be sure. I know one thing, however, and that was that the look in her
eye changed suddenly, and it was apparent, to even her, that she now held the power
between us.
There were
times in the past when that happened to me. Times when I gave in to my feelings of
pleasure, so much so, that the woman or the whore thought they held me captive with their
wiles. In those days, power came above all else, even my need for pleasure. If I ever saw
that gleam in their eye, I would stop whatever they were doing to me and let the beast in
me loose. It never mattered to me if it was consensual. By the time I finished taking them
and showing them who really held the power, they never wanted to return to my bed. In
those days, inflicting pain seemed the only way to show someone that you were stronger
than they were, that you were above them.
“Were
you…are you good at it?” I asked rather inanely.
I watched as
that same faint glimmer entered Gabrielle’s eye, but this time I simply didn’t
care.
“Perhaps
My Lord would care to judge that for herself?” Gabrielle responded, stringing
together more words than she’d ever spoken before, at one time.
“Yes.”
I replied, as every one of the nerve endings along my spine sparked at the same time.
“Kiss
me Gabrielle.” I rasped in a rather breathless voice.
She slid her
hands up, across my thighs until they rested against my hips. Pulling herself up to her
knees, she reached up and kissed me, gently at first. Her lips pressed against my own and
I enjoyed the feeling of the smooth, warm skin. This was what I supposed those lovers felt
when they embraced. She kissed me again, a slow lingering caress and I was helpless to
even respond. I was frozen in place, my emotions running away from me in ten different
directions at once.
I kept
telling myself I’d been kissed before, but when Gabrielle reached out the tip of her
pink tongue and ran it along my bottom lip, enveloping my mouth in an incredibly
passionate touch, I felt like a virgin. I placed a hand on each side of her head and
pulled her closer to me, allowing her tongue to explore my mouth, relishing in the very
taste of her. The small blonde’s mouth swallowed up my moans and, as usual, Gabrielle
never made a sound.
Reluctantly
pulling away for air, my heart pounded, almost painfully, within my chest. I noticed that
at least, my young slave’s face was flushed with desire. She may have had to please
this way thousands of times, but this time, it looked as though she was not completely
unaffected.
I shrugged
out of my robe and settled myself onto the bed, stretching my nude body along the length
of the mattress.
“Come
here, Gabrielle, and kiss me.” I commanded, and she let her robe fall to the floor,
laying her body along my own.
My hands
wanted to feel every bit of her body at once, and I pulled her snugly against me, between
my open legs, simply to feel the softness of her skin where it touched mine. The things her tongue was doing inside my mouth,
caused a raging river to flow from my aroused sex, and I was soaking wet in record time.
I’ve
kissed women during sex before, rough animalistic sex, a coupling for power or position.
In the last few seasons, I sought to have sex only out of need or for release. I realized
that I couldn’t even remember the last time I had sex with anyone simply for
pleasure; that is until Gabrielle. These kisses were not hungry and raw; they were gentle
and passionate, filled with an easy sensual quality. When I glanced up sometime later, the
candle appeared to have burned halfway down. We’d been doing nothing beyond light
touching and kissing for over two candlemarks. It was at that moment that I remembered
something Delia said to me once. It made no sense at the time, but clarity in a darkened
room is dependent on how close to the candle you are. Her words seemed like those of an
oracle at this very moment. She told me that all I needed was to be kissed, thoroughly,
and by someone who knew what they were doing. I made a mental note, reminding myself to
tell my cook that she finally got her wish.
My legs
trembled and my body was desperately ready for a release.
I took
Gabrielle’s small hand and placed it between the drenched folds of my own sex,
letting her fingers begin to work their magic. Just when I thought the night couldn’t
become any more embarrassing for me, I came with a loud groan after perhaps only three
strokes against the sensitive flesh. I was much more than ready and now I did indeed feel
like that clumsy schoolboy.
“Gods!”
I groaned aloud, trying desperately to regain command of my trembling limbs. My climax
snuck up on me and overwhelmed my senses before I was prepared for it.
Then
Gabrielle did something that I never expected from a slave. As I leaned over the small
blonde, my body lying more on her than the bed and my forehead resting on her shoulder, my
muscles still quivering over the intensity of my own climax, I felt her hand on my back.
She gently stroked the skin, rubbing her palm in small circles along the muscles there.
I had an
urge to touch her just then, this young slave who seemed to know all my secrets, but whom
I knew would take them to her death. I lifted my head and initiated a kiss, which may have
aroused me more than she. As our tongues teased, first in one mouth, then in another, I
slipped my hand between her legs. She was nearly as wet as I and although she might try to
deny her pleasure in my bed, her body spoke for itself. I made myself go slow,
purposefully using light strokes against that silky flesh. Not a sound came from her
throat, but as I rubbed my own center along her thigh, her legs spread wider in apparent
invitation.
It took
everything in me not to drive my hand into her and claim what was mine. That rush of heady
power mixed with the adrenaline of impending orgasm, caused my mind to revert back to a
time when sex was raw and fierce to me, a time when my release was explosive in its force.
I held back the might that wanted to take and forced myself to give. I controlled my touch
and restricted my hand to those relentless, easy strokes, never even entering her. I
slowed my own hip’s movements to that of a slow, sensual grind, and could begin to
feel Gabrielle’s heart race a little faster, her breathing grow a little more out of
control.
Her
submissive silence persisted, however, and I never heard one sound, not a moan nor a cry,
uttered from her throat. If not for the moment that her hand clenched down on my shoulder
and the tiny convulsive movements of her hips, I would never have known of her release. I
left my hand there, the palm covering the dampness of her mound as I thrust myself against
her leg, once, twice, and midway through the third stoke I came with quite a verbal cry.
Slowly
lifting myself off the small frame below me, I reached down to place a kiss on the damp
forehead. Falling to the other side of the bed, I held out my hand and quickly grabbed
Gabrielle’s wrist to prevent her from leaving my bed. She had a habit of kneeling at
the end of my bed after she’d pleasured me, to either await my next command or be
dismissed. I wanted more from my slave on this night and instead of putting a voice to me
need, I did what I’ve done all my life; I simply made it so.
“Stay
here, Gabrielle.” I ordered, pulling her body against mine.
I pulled the
blanket up over the both of us and enclosed the young woman in my arms. I kissed her once
more, just as she kissed me earlier. I’m not sure why, mostly because it felt good,
and very right. Gabrielle settled herself against my shoulder with a look on her face that
told me she had no idea what was going on. That seemed only fair, since I didn’t
either. I was by far the strongest woman in all of Greece, the most feared warrior. I knew
only that on this night, I became something more than the Lord Conqueror. I couldn’t
yet put a name to it, or the emotions that continued to rage through me, but it was
different. This was all very different.
To be continued in Chapter 5: Gabrielle Speaks