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Just as the Consul – an avid observer at many a contest – predicts, the Teuton arises first, and at once readies himself to face the revenge of the Gaulish gladiator. His opponent is not long after him in levering himself erect and taking stance and, under the fierce glare of the Roman sun – and the even fiercer roar of its crowd – the two face off against each other.

But, despite the balled fists, no blow is struck. With a roar the redheaded Teuton rushes his opponent, enveloping him in a muscular embrace and at once turning him about and lifting him half off his feet. Taken unawares, the Gaul finds himself hugged in his rival’s arms and held clear of the ground, his legs dangling and his spine bent in a painful backwards bow. He writhes, twisting in the grip, seeking a way to break free, but the brawny arms tight about him are like bands of steel. His chest compressed and breath hard to come by, his head falls back, his mouth open as he lets forth an anguished cry.

But worse is yet to come; the Teuton lowers the Gaul’s feet to the floor and then bends him forward from the waist, at once applying an arm-lock which renders him helpless and threatens dislocation.

“Oh – ” says the Consul, seeing his favoured gladiator now borne backwards in the Teuton’s grip – and at once turned and again seized from behind. “It seems that I spoke too soon….”
His arms locked tight across his adversary’s throat, the Teuton again lifts him bodily from the ground, plainly seeking a submission as being preferable to choking, for all its humiliation.

“But see –” adds the Consul, “the Gaul is not so helpless as he seems; look how his arms bend back to try and break the other’s grip; my money may yet be safe!”
“I doubt it,” murmurs the girl, her eyes intent on the muscular and sweat-sheened bodies struggling before her……

See more of this story at: subscribestar.adult/sparkiesho…

Description

Just as the Consul – an avid observer at many a contest – predicts, the Teuton arises first, and at once readies himself to face the revenge of the Gaulish gladiator. His opponent is not long after him in levering himself erect and taking stance and, under the fierce glare of the Roman sun – and the even fiercer roar of its crowd – the two face off against each other.

But, despite the balled fists, no blow is struck. With a roar the redheaded Teuton rushes his opponent, enveloping him in a muscular embrace and at once turning him about and lifting him half off his feet. Taken unawares, the Gaul finds himself hugged in his rival’s arms and held clear of the ground, his legs dangling and his spine bent in a painful backwards bow. He writhes, twisting in the grip, seeking a way to break free, but the brawny arms tight about him are like bands of steel. His chest compressed and breath hard to come by, his head falls back, his mouth open as he lets forth an anguished cry.

But worse is yet to come; the Teuton lowers the Gaul’s feet to the floor and then bends him forward from the waist, at once applying an arm-lock which renders him helpless and threatens dislocation.

“Oh – ” says the Consul, seeing his favoured gladiator now borne backwards in the Teuton’s grip – and at once turned and again seized from behind. “It seems that I spoke too soon….”
His arms locked tight across his adversary’s throat, the Teuton again lifts him bodily from the ground, plainly seeking a submission as being preferable to choking, for all its humiliation.

“But see –” adds the Consul, “the Gaul is not so helpless as he seems; look how his arms bend back to try and break the other’s grip; my money may yet be safe!”
“I doubt it,” murmurs the girl, her eyes intent on the muscular and sweat-sheened bodies struggling before her……

See more of this story at: subscribestar.adult/sparkiesho…