Category: Brutus

Flavius services the gladiators, including the crowd favorite Brutus, who has an unusual request. He wants to experience the glory of submission to Flavius’s manhood. That means Brutus is in for one exciting adventure in Twink on Top!

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The gladiator cells were dingy and cold. They always were, but Flavius never really got used to it. He didn’t understand how anybody could get used to that. It was as cold as the waters of Cocytus. He hurried down the hall, pouring slop into bowls as he went, and he shoved a bowl into each cell. The barley-and-water gruel didn’t smell like anything. He had taken a bite once, just to see what it was like. It didn’t taste like anything either; it’s only flavor was “nourishment”. It was like thick, clotted, starchy air.
Flavius always rushed through the cells because there was one cell in particular he liked to spent his time at. He gave everyone else their meals first, and he saved Brutus until the end.
“Salve, Brutus,” Flavius said when he got to the end of the hall, arriving at Brutus’s cell. Brutus looked at the gruel and smiled. Flavius was always shocked at how excited Brutus was to be fed gruel.
But Brutus didn’t seem to mind it too much. He had been a gladiator since he was a boy, and he was past thirty now — ancient, for a gladiator. He must have gotten used to the non-flavor of gruel.
Flavius always gave Brutus his food last because he was charming and funny and because Flavius liked spending time with him. He makes Flavius laugh.
Most of the gladiators were boring brutes who spent their spare moments flexing their muscles and showing off for tips in the form of beer — their cells opened on the outside, and they could do feats of strength or who-knows-what for passersby. But then most of them failed to survive more than a match or two. The life of a gladiator did not last long. Only Brutus among the master’s fighters had survived for a long time. That was because Brutus was a profitable draw — he was handsome, always smiling and dancing, making the crowd laugh. He was a wonderful showman. That meant no one ever wanted to put him up against impossible odds. He was one of those rare gladiators who made more money alive than he would having his entrails ripped out by a bear for an adoring crowd.
“Thank you for dinner,” Brutus said. He grabbed the bowl and spoon through the opening at the front of his cell. He had the biggest cell in the dungeon on account of his high status. It gave him plenty of room to work out while he was in his cell. That was what he had been doing; his muscles were bulging and veiny, palpably warm from just a foot or so away and covered with a fine sheen of sweat.
Through the barred window, passersby passed by, and a few kept peeking in to see Brutus and his legendary strength. But Flavius was more important to him, and Brutus did not divert his attention from his jailer.
Or rather, his jail attendant. Flavius worked for the jailer, but he was not in charge of the incarceration, just serving the food.
“I enjoy your cooking and the nourishment it brings me,” Brutus said with a dour nod. He seemed distract, maybe even upset, in a way Flavius had never seen him before. “I do so enjoy your presence, Flavius.”
Flavius’s heart jumped up in his chest, as it always did when Brutus said his name, it sent a frisson of excitement up his spine. Brutus was tall, towering over every man in the master’s employ, and he had the broad shoulders of an ox. His chest was hairy and strapping. Flavius, in contrast, had never been able to grow so much as a beard, not that he ever wanted to. He had not a single hair on his chest, not that he wanted one.
The one perk he liked most about the position was that he got to service the gladiators in his fashion, whenever he wanted — or rather, they could say no, of course, but few ever did. They weren’t allowed women because the master thought denying them sex encouraged a fighting spirit, and it allowed Flavius to grant them access to a prostitute as a reward for very rare special occasions.
And that meant he got to watch and inspect their muscles as they did it.
Brutus took only one bite of the gruel before he stopped. “What… uh… have you heard? About me?” He looked like he’d been working up the courage to ask that question. Flavius had never seen Brutus hesitant about anything. He normally brimmed with confidence.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean… I heard a rumor that I was up for the slaughter. The master wants me to fight a couple tigers. There’s no way I can win against that. Even if I did, they’d just keep throwing more and more beasts at me until I die.”
“Oh. Oh!” Flavius said. “No! He can’t!”
“I’m getting old,” Brutus said. He lowered his grim, gritty voice. “The master doesn’t want me to die in some minor fight or of a disease in my cell. He wants to ensure my death is a good show. I do want to die in glory, of course. Just… not so soon.”
“Oh, poor baby! I haven’t heard anything about that. I hope not,” Flavius said. “I’ll see if I can find out anything.” He shrugged. He didn’t have access to any special information. Brutus knew more about his upcoming matches than Flavius did. He grinned up at the hook-nosed gladiator. “You want me to come in and treat you right? I’ll jerk you off just how you like it.”
He smiled wanly. “Yeah. Thanks, Flavius.”
Flavius opened his cell and came in. Brutus sat on the cold stone ground, where he wolfed down the rest of his gruel while Flavius massaged his shoulders. His muscles were firm as sandstone, and they rippled beneath Flavius’s fingers. His skin was crisscrossed with scars from his many fights, and he had the master’s symbol branded onto the center of his upper spine.
“Flavius…”
“Yes, Brutus?”
“I wanna try something different,” he said. He closed his eyes and shook his head as though trying to talk himself out of saying whatever it is he was about to say. “I wanna… I wanna do something special before I die, and I dunno, it could happen anytime.”
“Of course it could happen anytime, if the gods will it,” Flavius said. Flavius smiled and nodded. He lowered his head to Brutus’s thickly-hairy bush. He inhaled deeply of Brutus’s unwashed musk, which had a zesty, sunny smell that Flavius adored, unlike the cooped-up stink of most of the other gladiators. He pulled down Brutus’s trousers and licked Brutus’s huge cock from tip to root. Brutush took off the rest of his clothes, hefting his fat cock between each hand. “You want my ass? You can make my ass into your pussy,” Flavius said. He loved getting plowed in the ass, but Brutus didn’t often partake. He preferred Flavius’s mouth most days.
“Not that either.” Brutus took a deep breath. “I wanna taste you. I wanna taste your cock. I wanna feel you inside me, in my ass. Is that alright? Can you handle being on top?”
“Yeah, I can do that. You want me to? You really want to do this, Brutus?”
“Yes! Please Jove, yes, I’ve been doing the same things my whole life. I need to do something new. Flavius, please!” he said, and he sounded like he was near tears. “I want to take it up behind before I die!”
“Brutus…” Flavius was shocked. Men like him — effeminate sissies — were not supposed to plow big brutish gladiators like Brutus. Brutus was expected to fight tooth and nail against that. The worst punishment the master could dole out was bending a gladiator over a barrel and sending him out into the arena to get cornholed by a legion of men in front of an audience. Brutus’s master didn’t do that kind of thing — he thought it diminished the men, not just the one being punished but all of them.
Brutus sank to his knees. He fumbled with Flavius’s toga. But Flavius reacted instinctively. He very much did want to plow Brutus, even if it felt wrong and possibly outright sacrilegious. In any case, it seemed Brutus was eager to get started. As soon as Flavius’s toga was off, Brutus dove into Flavius’s crotch and swallowed his dick in one smooth motion.
“By Jove!”
Flavius’s knees buckled as intense pleasure rocked his body, his cock throbbing and pulsating in Brutus’s cavernous mouth. He moaned and nearly fell over, but he supported himself by grabbing ahold of Brutus’s massive shoulders. His muscles rippled beneath Flavius’s fingertips, which danced over his tight flesh. He caressed the brand of the master’s symbol above Brutus’s spine.
His dick was hard so quickly Flavius wondered if he had lost track of time. He had to stand on his toes to make sure Brutus could actually swallow his dick because Brutus was so tall that, even on his knees, it was difficult to match his face up with Flavius’s crotch.
This had all happened so fast. A few seconds Flavius assumed he would be bottoming for the alpha gladiator, and now all of sudden his sissy dick was filling up Brutus’s grizzled mouth. He had a sour look on his face like he disliked the taste but craved more, and he swallowed Flavius’s shaft as deep as he could, until his nose teased Flavius’s pubic hair.
“Oh Jove, damn…” Flavius was at a loss for words as intense ecstasy rollicked his bones. His knees went weak.
Brutus had been the recipient of a man’s mouth so much he seemed to have a good idea how to do it. He suckled loudly, producing copious spit that dripped onto the straw-covered floor. He wasn’t quite able to deep-throat Flavius, but he tried and nestled his nose deep in Flavius’s pubic hair. Flavius had to take his toga all the way off, revealing his thin, hairless body.
Flavius had always been embarrassed about how big his dick was. He was from a nice family, so no one ever expected him to have a big barbarian dick, and he had endured many taunts over it from men with smaller members. Now Brutus — who was similarly endowed, though no one expected anything better from a gladiator-slave — seemed surprised by how big it was, pulsating in his mouth like an overgrown finger.
“Brutus… you’re so good at this,” Flavius said, the surprise evident in his voice, which was wavery and jagged. It felt so good he was unable to take a deep breath, and his hands flutteringly darted between Brutus’s hair and his shoulders and his chin.
Precum dripped down Brutus’s throat, and he winced as though upset by the flavor though it didn’t slow him down any. Indeed, after a few seconds his frown turned into a smile, and he wrapped his tongue around Flavius’s cockshaft. Then he really sucked, like he was trying to pull more precum out of Flavius’s manhood.
Flavius shuddered as another intense wave of pleasure hit him, and he focused on not cumming so he could drag this out even longer. He grunted so loud and so boomingly that the gladiators in the other cells chortled and banged on their walls, thinking that it was Brutus on top of Flavius instead of the other way around.
“Destroy him, Brutus! Break his throat!”
“Rip Flavius a new one!”
They all enjoyed being serviced by Flavius from time to time, though Flavius only really loved Brutus. The others were cruel and harsh. They didn’t like plowing Flavius so that he enjoyed it, they wanted to make it hurt. Flavius didn’t mind. He liked the pain.
But now that he was feeling the tender mouth with one of his charges, Flavius found himself wondering if he had been looking for pleasure improperly all this time. Maybe he should have been seeking out someone like Brutus whom he could be with all of the time. Maybe that would have been more fulfilling.
As instincts took over, Flavius gripped the thick black hair of Brutus’s head and held him in place. Brutus gurgled merrily as he swallowed every drop of precum. Flavius forced his dick all the way in until he could feel Brutus’s crooked oft-broken nose digging into the meat of his crotch.
Then, feeling that he was nearing orgasm, Flavius pulled away. Brutus gasped for air, his face red. Gobs of spit clung to his lips and to Flavius’s shaft. He spat up a mouthful of prejizz, which he slurped off his own face and swallowed.
“Oh, by Jove, thank you,” Brutus said. His voice was craggly with moisture, and it broke weakly, as though he held back tears of joy.
“Brutus…” Flavius felt a surge of anxiety as Brutus turned around and bared his ass. Flavius had only ever plowed one man in the ass, and that had been another thin weak-faced man like himself. He wasn’t sure how he’d handle a massive hunk of gladiator meat like Brutus.
“Hmmm… stick it in,” Brutus said in a low grunt. He kept his voice quiet so the other gladiators in the other cells wouldn’t hear. He had a huge meaty pair of asscheeks, both of which rippled and jiggled as he got into position. He squatted on those trunk-like thighs, separating his asscheeks and giving Flavius access to his intact hole.
Brutus bending over in front of him just reminded Flavius of the extreme size difference between them. He felt like a child mounting a bull as he got behind Brutus, whose biggish frame trembled nervously on all fours. Brutus was three times his size, maybe more — the rumors said he was a distant relation of Hercules, that was why. Flavius wasn’t sure he believed that, and Brutus said he was a foundling, so nobody knew where he came from, but still, the rumor had an air of truth to it.
“Be gentle,” Brutus said. For once his voice sounded weak and tender, vulnerable, begging Flavius to treat him right. For the first and sadly the last time in his life, he wanted to feel the glory of submission instead of dominance.
“I will. Tell me if it hurts,” Flavius said. He struggled not to touch his own cock, lest he accidentally cum too early. His hands hovered in the air instead.
There was a wooden box on a shelf in the corner, filled with a mixture of cow and horse-fat. Brutus kept it there for those rare occasions when he was horny enough to pretend Flavius’s ass was that of a woman. He used it to lubricate his cock and make it slide easily into Flavius.
Now Flavius used it for the opposite purpose. He coated his dick in it, since he knew his manhood was bigger than most men, it would likely hurt more than most as well. He didn’t want to cause Brutus any harm.
And Brutus had never done it! That hole was intact and tight as could be.
As he wedged his dick into Brutus’s ass, Flavius had to use both hands to separate his cheeks. Brutus was so big and his ass so wide that Flavius felt he was pushing the tide away. The meaty flesh of Brutus’s cheeks were stronger and thicker than Flavius could handle. He had to struggle to keep the man’s ass open long enough for Flavius to slip his dick into that tight, hair-choked hole.
But once he did, pleasure suffused Flavius’s body while Brutus arched his back and moaned. The sound had an odd tenor to it, a mix of pleasure and pain, a cross between a wolf’s angriest howl and a kitten’s most seductive meow. Everyone in the other cells fell quiet and murmured amongst each other — they must have realized Brutus was being plowed, but they probably assumed the master was doing it.
“Ah, plow me, fill me up, Flavius!” Brutus said loudly, his inhibitions having shattered. The other gladiators would have heard except that they were still rattling their cages and shouting, overpowering Brutus’s deep voice. It was hard to tell if they were surprised or shocked or upset or even accepting of Brutus bottoming for Flavius’s twinkie body.
Flavius got his dick in with the help of that lube, and as sensations exploded deep within, he plowed harder and harder with each thrust of his hips. Brutus struggled to accept it all, but it was clear he enjoyed himself despite the pain. He grunted and groaned, and his whole hefty body shifted back and forth in sync with Flavius’s motions. Brutus shuddered with ecstasy when Flavius found that magic spot deep in his ass that, Flavius suspected, all men had. Tt sent shockwaves of pleasure through Brutus’s quaking frame.
He roared with desire, and there was no doubting what he was moaning about. The other gladiators must have known, Flavius thought, at least the ones in nearby cells.
His hands caressed the strapping muscles of Brutus’s back, savoring the perfect curves of his shoulders and ribs. Then Flavius’s hands roamed over to the other side — he really wanted to touch Brutus’s chest and nipples, but Flavius was much too short to reach that high on Brutus’s body.
Instead, he gripped Brutus’s dick, which was already rock-hard. It pulsated beneath his fingers, throbbing like it begged Flavius to stroke it.
As soon as he did deliver that first stroke, Brutus threw his head back and Flavius could see the pleasure undulating through his muscles. Brutus moaned so loud the men in the other cells clapped and applauded.
“You destroying him, Brutus?”
“What’s going on over there?”
“If it’s a Gallic man you’re plowing, Brutus, you have to let us join in. Those barbarians will wilt before the might of Rome!”
All of their catcalling and caterwauling made Flavius chuckle, but it didn’t slow him down. He gasped and moaned, while Brutus did likewise in a more baritone voice.
“He ain’t plowing a Gaul, he’s taking it up the ass from someone. Can’t you hear that in his voice?”
“Sounds like he’s in pain.”
“Sounds like he loves it!”
But Brutus didn’t say anything to them, and didn’t even seem to care anymore that some of them thought he was submitting. He must have decided not to let his last days on this world be dominated by hiding and shame. He writhed beneath Flavius’s tiny, tender frame. It would have looked ridiculous, if anyone was around to see, Flavius thought as he plowed harder and harder, like Brutus was being held down by a man less than a third his size.
The harder he rammed back and forth, the more Flavius had trouble staying in position. Brutus lowered his hips and bucked with each thrust, and soon enough Flavius found himself entirely off the ground, laying atop Brutus’s broad back as he humped into his ass.
“That’s definitely Brutus plowing Flavius. I’ve heard that a thousand times before.”
“It doesn’t sound like Flavius moaning.”
Brutus’s dick throbbed beneath Flavius’s fingers. Flavius found it difficult to jack him off in this position, but it didn’t seem that Brutus was annoyed by that. He grunted and snorted, moaning as his face and chest turned ruddy with the power of his oncoming orgasm.
Brutus soon let out a gritty, booming groan that could only signify an orgasm. The other gladiators cheered, though they weren’t sure who precisely they cheered. Brutus’s whole body quaked and his ass clenched tight on Flavius’s dick, sending another wave of pleasure through Flavius’s limbs.
As Brutus’s toes curled and his fingers clawed at the straw-covered stone floor, cum sprayed over Flavius’s fingers. Flavius could almost see the orgasm itself in the rippling of Brutus’s massive muscles beneath his very eyes.
“Whoever’s on top, they’re just now finishing up. Hear that?!”
“I hear it…”
It was the tightening of Brutus’s ass around Flavius’s dick that actually sent him into throes of ecstasy like some mad Bacchae. He hollered and whooped, his voice temporarily imbued with so much masculinity that the other gladiators didn’t know who it was — they could tell it wasn’t the master or Brutus, but none of them believed Flavius could sound so manly.
Many Romans claimed that bending a man over brought you his strength and bravery; that was the reason many of them were so keen to do it to the conquered armies. But Flavius had never believed in that until this moment, when he suddenly felt like a real man instead of a girlish weakling.
He moaned and dug his cum-covered fingers into the meat of Brutus’s muscles. It might have been painful if it weren’t for Brutus laying flat on the ground, breathless and dazed; he didn’t even seem to notice as the most potent orgasm of both men’s lives overwhelmed them.
Cum poured from his dick like a tidal wave from Neptune’s domain, spreading to every inch of Brutus’s ass. They both let out a long, low chest-rattling moan as it happened, and a huge cumwad filled Brutus up from his toes to his head.
Flavius felt it flowing from his dick as pleasure assaulted his senses. If he had been standing, his knees would have been to weak to keep him up and he’d have fallen over, but he was already resting atop Brutus’s back. Flavius imagined he could feel the cum spreading beneath Brutus’s skin, coating his insides in Flavius’s manly juices.
Finally that was it. It was all over. Flavius had no idea how long it had taken; it felt like forever, but surely that wasn’t true. Josephus would have come to find him by now if it had been very long. Flavius blinked sweat from his eyes, licked the sweat off the quivering muscles of Brutus’s back and lifted himself up.
When his softened cock plopped out of Brutus’s ass, both men moaned with relief. Brutus’s crimson cheeks cooled and he sighed. All the tension in his muscles evaporated to nothing, and he was just a limp pile of manhood beneath Flavius.
Flavius still felt too weak to stand. He had never experienced anything like this. He remained resting there, atop Brutus’s back like a sleeping cat, his dick wedged between Brutus’s hair-matted asscheeks, his face dug in between the strapping muscles of Brutus’s shoulders.
“Okay… Flavius, you can get off me now,” Brutus said with a chortling laugh.
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Flavius said. He stood and stretched his legs.
Brutus did the same, then winced and nearly fell over. He reached behind himself and massaged his ass like it still hurt, which Flavius knew it very probably did.
Before Flavius could tell him he was being unduly pessimistic, a loud, stentorian voice filled the air. “Flavius! Where are you!”
“In here, Josephus!” Flavius called out. “I’m in the last cell on the end! With Brutus!”
They both looked at each other nervously. Flavius wanted to say that Josephus was probably just here because Flavius was late to feed the next cell block. That was indeed plausible.
But they both knew that wasn’t why Josephus was here. There was something in his voice that suggested his actual purpose.
He came to the cell door and peered in. He wrinkled his nose — he didn’t approve of Flavius jerking off the gladiators, which is what he undoubtedly assumed had happened.
“Why are you still here? The western cell block still needs their gruel,” Josephus said.
“Yes, sir.”
Josephus turned to Brutus. “You are in for some excitement tomorrow. You better pray for Mars’s favor.”
“What am I fighting?”
“Three tigers and, if you happen to win that, they’ve got an hungry bear with your name on it,” Josephus said. “I’m putting money on the bear-“
Josephus went on, but neither Flavius nor Brutus were listening to him. They made eye contact with each other, and they were in perfect sync. Flavius might as well have been able to read Brutus’s mind: he knew exactly what the man wanted.
He wanted Flavius to come visit him again in the morning, and Flavius, of course, couldn’t wait. He was going to make Brutus’s last twenty-four hours the best twenty-four hours of his life.