Ced had achieved great fame in the arena. He had been a slave since he had been captured by the Romans as a child and a gladiator by his eighteenth summer, he took easily to killing, and rose in popularity with the crowds with each kill. Eventually, after he had killed scores of men in the arena, he was considered the champion by all of Rome. The other gladiators knew it was a death sentence to be paired against him.

It was no surprise when Adrailius drew him into his plot to assassinate the emperor's proconsul. He promised Ced his freedom and his own stable of gladiators if he would use his sword to kill the proconsul, as he had all of those other men. Adrailius was betrayed by his own loose tongue and his stable boy, who, under torture, gave the names of the conspirators, including that of Ced.

The emperor ordered the conspirators to be taken alive. Many of the others killed themselves before they were captured, others meekly surrendered. All would be tortured before execution. Ced had only been the killer; he did not understand the politics involved. When the soldiers came for him, he decided to fight. He killed three of them before they caught him in a weighted net and wrestled his sword away.

Ced was taken into the city. The soldiers beat him senseless, as revenge for the death of their comrades. Two held him up by the arms as a third pounded his belly, screaming at him the whole while.

"You fool! You're lucky the emperor wants to alive, or we'd have cut your guts out and fed them to you by now."

Ced fought for enough air to speak. "If you weren't such a coward … you'd give me a sword and we'd see who gets gutted."

Ced tightened his abs as the soldier slammed his fist into him again and again. He mustered enough strength to kick the soldier in the crotch. Ced laughed as he fell to the ground screaming, hand clutched against the pain between his legs. A bright flash of light shot through his head, accompanied by a quick blast of pain. The light faded and only darkness remained, and the pain became a dull, almost distant throb.

He awoke hours later, naked, in a filthy cell. He lay still for a long time, not sure if he was dead or alive. His guts ached, his head throbbed. Slowly he rose and looked around the cell. There was no bed; just four walls and no windows. What little light he had came through a slit in the door. He staggered to his feet and stumbled to a corner. He began to urinate, and cried out in pain. He was sure that he was passing blood, but it was too dark to see. He leaned against the wall until he finished. He walked across the cell and sat against the wall, drifting off to unconsciousness again.

Ced jerked up as the door crashed open. A noose went over his head and around his neck. It tightened as the soldier who held the pole it was attached to twisted it, jerking him to his feet, and into the hall. He was drug a large room and thrown to his knees in front of the emperor's inquisitor. The soldier pulled him up to face him.

"Cedus of Genua, he droned, "you are a lucky man. Your popularity with the citizenry and the respect of your fellow gladiators requires us to take a different approach with you. If we publicly crucified or hung you, the people would be deprived of the entertainment provided by your skills in the arena, and they would be in a state of distress with his majesty. If we tortured you to death, your fellow gladiators might become … mmm … shall we say restless."

"So what is to become of me?" asked Ced.

"Adrailius promised you a string of gladiators, and so you will get your string. You will face three of his best fighters in the arena tomorrow."

"And what will become of me after I've killed them," Ced asked, confident of his skill.

The inquisitor laughed and looked about the room. "Cedus is certainly sure of how this battle will end." The others in the room nervously joined in the laughter. They knew Ced wasn't joking. "You'll be killed in the arena by the guards should you survive the combat. You fight …" he paused and thought momentarily, "Die tomorrow. The arena will be filled. I understand that all of the talk about the city is the final fight of Cedus of Genua." He motioned to the guards, "Take him away."

The guard twisted the noose as the others tied his hands and legs. They carried him up a stairway, and to a cart. He was thrown in and taken to the coliseum, where he was thrown into a holding cell, still tied up. He moaned and struggled against his bonds. Suddenly he felt someone roll him on his stomach. He instinctively began to struggle.

"Hold still," a voice spoke as hands began to work on his bonds. It was Damaus, his slave. "I'm to prepare you for the fight as usual." He freed Ced and gave him a cup of water. Ced drank and crawled toward the cot. Damaus helped wrestle the heavy gladiator on his back and began to wash his wounds. Ced was asleep in no time. Damaus looked over the familiar body of his master. His smooth, strong chest rose and dropped gently with his breathing. His tight abs, bruised from the beatings, rippled as he shifted about and his manhood lay heavy against his thigh. Damaus thought about how many times that manhood had been filled him, before and after his matches. He went to the corner of the cell and watched Ced as he slept. Soon, he too fell asleep.

The door slammed open, shocking both Ced and his slave into wakefulness. One guard put the point of a spear into Ced's chest, keeping him down on the bed. The other jerked the diminutive Damaus to his feet.

"Prepare your master for the arena."

Damaus nodded as the guards stood back. He helped Ced to his feet and led him through the door and to the baths. The guards followed them, keeping a watchful eye on Ced and his slave. Damaus lowered Ced into the warm waters. Ced immersed himself, loosening his stiff and bruised body. Damaus removed his robe and joined him, washing Ced's body as he had done dozens of times before. Ced enjoyed this ritual. It relaxed him for the coming fight. Normally he focused his thought on battle to come, but today he would be killed. His thoughts drifted back to all of the men he had killed, and how they had died. Some had died as warriors, and some had died as cowards. He knew that he would die as a warrior. The men that had died as warriors had fought bravely and savagely; some of them fought on even though they were mortally wounded. That would be how he would die. With luck, he would take some of the legionnaires with him.

He liked killing; it was all he had ever known. What surprised him greatly was that the thought of his own death excited him just as much. He felt his manhood stiffen. He had always relieved himself before his matches with Damaus. Today would be no different. He rose from the bath and led the young slave to a nearby bench. Damaus knew what his masters needs were, and what to do next. Ced was fond of Damaus. It was unusual for a gladiator to have his own personal slave, but most died before they had gained the status that Ced had. Ced had started just as Damaus had, as a slave preparing gladiators for their appearance in the arena. He understood how the young men felt who serviced those who were about to die. Damaus lay on the bench, lifting his legs and spreading his buttocks to expose himself for his master. He felt himself spread open as Ced entered him. Damaus thought he felt especially large today. Damaus knew that this would be his masters last time, as well as his own. All thought of what was to come was obscured by the pleasure of Ced's manhood as it was thrust deeply inside of him. Damaus stroked his now erect cock as his master pleasured himself. Damaus loved the sight of Ced's muscular chest and belly as he pleasured himself. It thrilled him to know that he could give him this kind of pleasure.

Ced thrust deeply and quickly, knowing that this would be his last purely sexual pleasure. Ced thrust harder as his balls began to tighten. He groaned loudly as he shot his load deeply into the young slave. His muscles flexed tight as the pleasure spread through him. The sight of this pushed Damaus over the edge and he too shot his load on his belly. It thrilled Ced to watched as the white globs splashed on his slave's belly. Ced pulled his manhood from the slave and returned to the bath, where he would clean the residue of their pleasure from his body. Damaus joined him. He knew not to expect affection from Ced now, as he was focused on the fight to come.

"Whom will you go with after I'm dead?" Ced asked.

Damaus looked at his master. "I'm to be killed today."

Ced was shocked at the admission. "What for?" he asked angrily, "You weren't part of the plot! I'll speak to the emperor."

"It will do no good, you and your history are being wiped away," the slave replied. "I'm just another part of your life that will be ending today."

"I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Damaus smiled at him. He was proud that he was the slave of Ced. It had implied a certain status amongst the arena slaves. It would be an honor to die with him. "Come now. You need to get ready," he told his master. Damaus knew his status in the empire. Even if he wasn't to die today, he would have eventually entered the arena as Ced had. Most likely, he would have died there.

Damaus helped Ced into his loincloth. "They've not given you any armor, nor a belt."

"I'm to die," Ced replied, "Armor is for those who have a chance of survival."

The door opened again, and more soldiers entered. The last one through the door was an officer of the guard. He shouted orders out to the rest of the men.

"Seize the slave!" Two soldiers grabbed Damaus under the arms and jerked him toward the door. The other soldiers placed a spear point in Ced's chest. "Let's go." Ced was resigned to his death. He certainly wasn't going to let some legionnaire kill him in the bowels of the coliseum. He went along calmly. He stopped and looked at the officer.

"What will happen to him?" he asked, as he nodded toward Damaus.

"He'll be your first opponent today." The guards laughed as Ced was shoved down the hall to the arena.

"But he's just a boy! He hasn't trained with a sword!"

The soldiers laughed again. "He'll die just fine."

The soldiers led him into the arena. The crowd shouted their approval as he stepped into the bright sunlight. He looked around at those who would watch him die. "They'll cheer anything, as long as a man dies," he thought. In the middle of the arena lay a buckler and a shortsword. The guards backed away as he picked them up. The walls of the arena floor were guarded by legionnaires with bows and spears at the ready.

Ced looked up at the emperor. He would not offer the usual salutations today. The emperor hadn't expected him to do so. Such insolence was usually rewarded with death; and so it would be today. His majesty turned and signaled for the contests to begin. Trumpets blared as the gate opened across the arena. Ced turned to face his first adversary. There stood Damaus, bare-chested, with a sword and buckler like his own. He walked to the center of the arena and waited for Damaus to join him there.

They both went into a fighting stance. Ced first, and Damaus following his lead. They began to circle each other. "I will finish you quickly," Ced told him.

"I want a warriors death," replied the young man.

Ced had impressed his young slave with his philosophy of honorable death. In reality Ced found it difficult to kill a boy in such a brutal manner. "It is an agonizing way to die. Let me kill you fast; one stroke and it will be over."

"Let me die a warrior."

Damaus rushed him, slashing across the small shield. Ced jabbed his sword into the slave's buckler. Almost instinctively, Damaus pushed the blade out of the way, as Ced backed off.

"Why didn't you kill me?" Damaus smiled as he asked. "You had your chance."

"Your better than you think you are." Actually Ced had anticipated every move. He could have killed the slave easily, but he wanted him to have his warrior's death.

Damaus smiled, and he rushed Ced again. Ced used his shield to push the slaves sword aside. He turned into the attack, getting his sword arm behind his opponent's buckler. The slave was no match for the powerful gladiator. Ced forced his shield arm back, exposing his belly. Damaus was off balance and didn't know how to stop the attack. Ced pulled his sword back and plunged the sword went straight into Damaus' belly, just above his navel. His blade quickly slid deep inside the slave, and just as quickly he pulled it free, not twisting it as he usually did.

Ced stepped back and Damaus dropped his weapon and shield, his hands went to the tear in his belly. He dropped to his knees, the pain spreading through his entire being, blood pouring over his hands as it flowed from him. Damaus looked to his master and smiled. Suddenly his body shook in a spasm and he doubled over, face down in the sand.

Ced dropped his shield and went to his side, laying his sword close to his free hand; he lifted him up so he could say something to him before he died. "You are a warrior, my friend."

Damaus smiled. The crowd screamed in delight, but Ced could hear none of it. He could see the bulge form under his slave's blood soaked loincloth as he had seen many times before, but his own manhood didn't seem to take the usual pleasure in the young mans death.

Ced slipped the sword into his hand again. With luck, Damaus would be dead before he knew that Ced had stabbed him. "Goodbye my friend," he spoke, He looked into his eyes as he thrust into Damaus' chest, just beneath the sternum. Damaus gasped loudly as the sword sliced his heart in two. He opened his mouth to cry out but death took him before he could cry out. He slumped in Ced's arms, a trickle of blood falling from his mouth. Ced lay him down gently and pulled the sword from his chest. The crowd kept up their cheers, but Ced did not acknowledge the praise. Of all the men he had killed, this was the first one that he regretted. A charon ran to the arena. He lifted Damaus' head and lifted his hammer to apply the killing blow. Ced grabbed his arm and threw him aside.

"He's already dead! Leave him be!" he screamed. The charon grabbed the corpse by the arm and drug it from the arena. Ced knew that his slave would be stripped and thrown in to the mass grave with the corpses of the other dead gladiators and animals who had died there.

Again the horns sounded. Ced turned to the gates as they swung open. A young man walked toward him. Not as young as Damaus, but not a lot older. He was very tall and wiry, with long muscular arms and tight muscular abs. He reminded Ced of himself when he had first entered the arena. So thin that his ribs showed across his tight chest muscles. A few months of daily training with the sword would give him a thick muscular chest like Ced's; if he had a few months to build himself up "Too bad," Ced thought out loud, "he'll be dead in a few minutes." The gladiator had long blonde hair, pulled into a ponytail that surrounded an almost angelic face. As he got closer, Ced could see into his deep blue eyes, clear and focused on the battle at hand. Ced recognized him as a former attendant from the arena. He was prepared as was any gladiator. His body was bathed and oiled, and he wore the same loincloth as Ced, with an identical buckler and sword.

The gladiators moved around each other, first one way, then the other, sword and buckler at the ready. Crouched low, they both looked to find an advantage. The blonde struck first, using his long arms and greater height to slash down toward Ced's head. Ced drew his buckler up and blocked the blow, the crowd howling as the fight began in earnest. Ced thrust at the exposed belly of his opponent, but the blonde's long arms allowed him to easily dodge the blow. The blonde slashed again, this time catching the edge of Ced's buckler, and knocking it aside. Ced spun quickly away as the sword barely missed his shoulder. Ced slashed again, but his blow glanced harmlessly off the blonde's buckler.

Now that they had felt each other out, they both aggressively attacked. Blades clanged as each man took turns trying to get inside the others defenses. The blonde's longer arms kept Ced too far away for an effective strike. Ced began to quickly back away. The blonde moved in, sensing wrongly that his opponent was tiring. Both men were sweating freely under the hot midday sun. Ced's body glistened as he moved. The blonde's skin gleamed too. Ced thought him quite beautiful.

The blonde rushed Ced with his buckler in front of him, hoping to knock the gladiator off balance. The shields clashed loudly and the blonde thrust his blade toward Ced's pecs. Ced turned slightly and lowered his sword, letting the blonde go by, and impale himself on Ced's blade.

The blonde tried to spin away, but he wasn't fast enough, as the blade entered his belly just to the right of his navel. He cried out and spun away from Ced. It wasn't a deep wound, but the blade tore him open as he fell away. He managed to stay on his feet, and swung wildly at Ced. Blood rushed from the tear in his belly. Ced wasted no time in attacking again, slashing with all of his strength. The blonde was trying to stop the bleeding with his shield arm and still hold onto the only protection he had. He used only his sword to parry Ced's blows. Each move sent a painful reminder of his wound. Ced pressed the attack, slashing back and forth, eventually catching his blade on the hilt of the blonde's sword, and knocking it across the arena. Ced then struck the side of the buckler and moved it aside, knocking it to the sand. The blonde fell back, desperately backing away. He wasn't fast enough. Ced's blade plunged straight into his belly, just above the navel. The blonde froze in agony, throwing his head back and screaming. He grabbed the blade that was now inside him, tearing his guts. Ced kept thrusting, the blade slashed the blonde's hands as it quickly slid deep inside his belly. He fell back, groaning deeply as the reality of his death set in. Ced pulled the blade out quickly, twisting this time. The blonde cried out and arched as he grabbed his wounds, collapsing sandy floor of the arena. He squirmed as his life flowed from between his fingers. He stared up at his killer.

There was no doubt about the pleasure that Ced felt at killing this man. His manhood was stiff and proud underneath his loincloth, and he could see from the bulge in the blonde's loincloth that he was as excited as Ced was. Both men knew what was expected of them. Ced kneeled next to the man, placing the point of his sword in the space between the ribs that were so prominent on his chest. He gasped slightly as the point pricked him slightly. His chest heaved from exertion, the pain, and the anticipation of the deathblow. He raised his head to expose his neck to the sword, as was the tradition. Ced did not like to cut a man's throat. He thought that was how you killed a goat or a coward. Ced thrust the blade deep inside his chest. He could hear bones crack as the thick blade split them apart. The blonde shouted loudly and threw his shoulders back and expanding his chest, accepting the thrust like he would have accepted the thrust of a lover. He fought to draw his last breath. Foamy blood bubbled from his mouth. Ced jerked the sword to the side and pulled it from his body. A geyser of blood shot from his chest as he convulsed. His hands dropped to his side, as his body relaxed in death.

The crowd cheered as the Charons came to the arena and smashed the blonde in the skull, as though there were some question whether or not he was dead. They took a large hook, with a rope attached, and stuck it through the wound in his chest, and drug his corpse away.

The trumpets sounded again, and another man entered. This time, a Nubian. Tall and muscular, with huge shoulders and pecs, he seemed a perfect fit to become a prominent warrior in the arena, but the Roman prejudice against his kind would prevent that. He was armed with a trident and net, and again, there was no armor. Ced wondered what the Romans had told these gladiators about him. The Nubian glanced at the bloody stain where the blonde had been killed. He took a deep breath as he prepared to kill, or be killed.

The Nubian swung the net over his head as he moved toward Ced. The trident would keep Ced back while the Nubian could get close enough to ensnare and finish him while he fought to free himself. Ced stayed away. He thought it odd that they would have a Retarius fight against him. Normally only heavily armored gladiators fought the net bearers. No matter though. He would still have to kill this man.

The Nubian rushed toward Ced, throwing the net. Ced stepped back, using his buckler to try to knock the net aside. The weights wrapped around the small shield, and Ced found it caught in the net. The Nubian jerked hard, pulling Ced off balance, and aiming the trident towards Ced's belly. Ced released the grip on the buckler and it dropped to the sand. The Nubian yanked the net, and the buckler flew across the arena, as Ced lost his balance. The Nubian thrust and one of the tines of the trident struck Ced in the shoulder, and he yelled as the tearing in his shoulder turned to a burning sensation that he felt throughout his body.

The crowd rose to their feet in anticipation of the final blow. Ced scrambled away. The Nubian held the trident, now decorated with Ced's blood, in front of him and charged. Ced put his hand to his shoulder as he backed away. It ached greatly, but he could still fight. The buckler was too far away. It would be easier to fight without it, he thought.

The Nubian kept coming toward him. He lifted the trident above his shoulder, as though her were going to throw it. Ced stepped back again as the Nubian swung the net toward Ced's feet. The weights spun around Ced's ankles, and he fell as the Nubian pulled his feet out from under him.

The fall knocked the wind from him, and a fresh shock of pain went through his shoulder, but he managed to hold onto his sword. He looked up to see the Nubian hurrying toward him, with the trident ready to strike. As he thrust, Ced turned away. The trident struck the soil where he had laid an instant ago. Ced turned back, thrusting his sword upward into the Nubian's navel. It only went in a few inches, but he was off balance and fell forward, the blade cutting through him as he fell. He kept falling until he landed on Ced. The sword now completely through him, bloody steel showing out the back.

Ced let go of his sword and pushed the sweaty, mortally wounded gladiator off of him. The Nubian rolled on his side, and using both hands he began to pull the offending blade from his belly. Ced could see the agony that the man was going through. He pulled the trident from the soil and walked to him. The Nubian was in a world of his own, full of agony and fear of death. Sweat covered his body and mixed with what little blood flowed from his wound. Ced watched him for a moment, marveling at the intensity of the man. The Nubian had pulled the blade a few inches from his belly, and moved his hands to the blade, slicing his fingers. He had to be delirious with pain Ced thought. Ced reached down and grabbed the handle and pulled it from his body in one motion. The Nubian curled up into a ball as the sword shredded his insides even more on the way out, and blood streamed from both wounds.

Ced stuck the sword in the stand. He picked up the trident and kicked the Nubian onto his back, and placed the tines against the Nubians chest. His eyes were gripped tightly shut, and he grimaced as his guts shifted inside of him. Ced pulled the trident over his head and drove the tines squarely into his chest, the middle tine between his pecs and the others through them. There was a loud pop, and the Nubian's eyes and mouth opened wide. The thick points tearing deep inside his chest. A spray of blood burst from his mouth as his lungs filled. He convulsed momentarily, made a loud sigh, and slipped into death. Ced left the trident in his chest.

The attendants come out again as Ced accepted the exaltation of the crowd. One put his foot on the Nubians ribcage and pulled the weapon from him, and the other took the hook and drove it into the chest of the corpse. They dragged the body from the arena. "One man to go," Ced told himself, "then you'll feel the hook." He pulled his sword from the sand and moved to retrieve the buckler. His shoulder ached; he tried to ignore it. It would end shortly. Blood flowed down his arm.

The trumpets sounded again, and the next gladiator entered the arena. Ced thought him to be Roman, probably a slave or a soldier from a disgraced legion. The man had a broad chest, covered with a thick black hair that went down across his thick abs and around his navel. Heavily bearded, with coal black eyes, he seemed to look right through Ced. A soldier Ced thought. A worthy opponent.

Ced grabbed his buckler. Almost as quickly, it fell from his hand. He tried to lift it again. It did no good. He would have to fight without it.

The soldier looked him over. There would be great reward in the afterlife for having killed the great Ced. There would be great honor if one was killed by Ced, but only if the fight itself were honorable. The soldier threw his buckler aside.

Ced nodded to his adversary. They would fight with no protection. Such fights didn't last long. One of them would be dead very quickly.

They moved to the center of the arena and quickly slashed towards each other. Both men swung furiously, both as an attack and to keep the others blade from killing them. Ced kept his wounded arm close to his body. The soldier could more freely shift his weight to try to break Ced's defenses. The fight continued for what seemed to the two warriors like an eternity. Ced was tiring rapidly. More often than not the soldiers blade drove him back toward the arena walls. The legionnaires scattered when it looked like Ced would run into them. Ced managed to sidestep and move out toward the center of the arena. He wondered if he was only prolonging the inevitable.

The soldier kept moving in. Sweat soaked his body. What he had heard about Ced was true. He had given it everything he had and had yet to even touch him.

Ced kept moving away. He knew if he were to kill this man, he would have to be the aggressor. As the soldier moved in again, Ced quickly mustered the last of his strength and slashed from above. The soldier quickly pulled his blade across to block the blow, and his knees buckled at its force. Ced quickly thrust. Catching the soldier in the pec.

The soldier stumbled back, blood flowing through his hairy chest. The wound wasn't deep. He couldn't taste any blood, so he figured that his lung hadn't been pierced. He swung again, but Ced blocked his blow.

Ced moved in for the kill. He continued to swing wildly, not having the strength left to pick his targets. The soldier lunged toward him again. Ced caught the bottom side of his blade and drove it back into the mans face, cutting him above the eye. The shock froze the soldier. An instant later he felt Ced's blade slice into his gut. He dropped his sword and cried out to the heavens, as Ced pulled his sword free and thrust again into his belly. The soldier fell forward into the sand. He pushed himself onto one hand, the other grasping his wounds, and tried to crawl to his sword. Ced let him reach it. This man was a warrior; he should die with a sword in his hand.

The soldier fought to his knees and raised his sword toward Ced. Ced blocked the sword aside and grabbed his wrist. He raised his weapon and thrust it downward into the mans pectoral. There was the familiar tearing and popping sounds as the sword drove through his chest. Ced released his wrist, and the soldier's corpse slumped in to the soil.

His three opponents now dead, he turned to the emperor and looked at him with contempt. Any of those men were twice the emperor was. If only he was close enough to kill him. He knew that wasn't to be. It was now his time to die.

The legionnaires began to march toward him, spears at the ready. Ced thought about fighting, but knew he couldn't last. His wounds and the hot sun had taken its toll on him. He moved toward the center of the arena, near the body of the soldier, and swung wildly. Some of the legionnaires slowed down and others stepped back. Their officers shouted for them to advance. But it would be too late.

"To hell with you all!" Ced screamed. With that he lifted his sword, and turned it toward himself. With all of his might, he thrust it into his belly. Now he knew why men were erect when they died on his sword. The exquisite agony of the blade tearing through his gut excited him as never before. He dropped to his knees and savored the feeling, he pushed again and the blade, lubricated with the blood of the others, slid easily through his gut. He felt it pass out his back. Suddenly he felt cold, and the agony was replaced by the spasms of his manhood inside his loincloth. He fell on his face as death took him to the afterlife. Both hands still on the pommel of the sword.

The crowd cheered of course. As much as they liked Ced as a gladiator, most of them could not wait until he was dead. The emperor wasn't happy that his legionnaires hadn't killed him. They will suffer the cross for their cowardice.

The charons came to get Ced's body. A quick swing of the hammer and the back of his skull was crushed. Turned on his side, they pulled the blade from his body. They took a large hook and jammed it underneath his sternum. It took both of them to drag his body to the mortuary underneath the stands.

They threw his sword into a box used for collecting these things. The weapons from the earlier bouts were already there. They stripped him of his loincloth, and he lay naked in death. The attendants noted the residue of his orgasm on his legs and manhood. They knew that he's sent plenty of others to hell, and he was going the same way. They drug his body to the pit outside of the coliseum, and threw it on the pile. Here he would lay naked in the sun, with Damaus, the blonde, the Nubian, and the soldier for all eternity.