The characters belong to Studios USA and Renaissance Pictures and were used without permission. No copyright infringement was intended and no money was made.
This erotic short story contains graphic sexual descriptions other than the missionary position. If you are under 18 years of age, or may be offended by this, or if reading this violates local ordinances, you do not have my permission to continue reading.
You can find more stories by Lisa Jain at Lisa Jain's Xenerotica Original X/G Stories
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Copyright Lisa Jain Thompson October 1998
The wind shifted and the smoke from the campfire drifted to where the Warrior Princess was strung. Her lungs convulsed her tired naked body into wakefulness. The fumes burned her half-opened eyes as she struggled to rasp:
A woman's voice:
"No, Xena. Not Hope. Not Callisto. Not even Alti. None of the women who have come and gone."
Xena struggled only to find herself securely tied spread eagle with the leather bonds. The smoke obscured her captor.
"You going to object that you don't like this, Xena? That you don't want this?
A moan escaped the warrior's throat even as she tried to suppress it.
"What's the matter Xena? Don't you like your poet girl to be in charge? I think we both know the answer to that."
"See, I knew you could figure it out. You aren't anywhere as out of it as you are pretending to be."
"Quiet! If I want you to speak I will ask you a question."
"I ... "
A whip hissed through the air and kissed Xena's ribs, releasing a soft cry from Xena's lips.
"All your sins forgiven yet? You haven't forgiven mine yet, have you?"
A louder cry.
"But I'm not here to mea culpa you, Xena. You don't really want that. And we've never been much for platonic, have we? I guess that just leaves Eros. How dark are you darling?"
Xena's body shuddered and betrayed her even as she tried to break her bonds.
Gabrielle wandered over and checked the constraints to make sure they were still secure, tightening each one and spreading Xena further.
"You're rather wet, darling, but I imagine you know your own scent."
Moving over near the campfire, Gabrielle reached into her bag and removed a leather harness and a large hand-carved ivory dildo worn smooth with use.
"You recognize this lovely, don't you, Xena? You seemed quite happy the first time you added my notch to it's base."
Xena's eyes widened.
"Oh, I bet you thought that I hadn't noticed? Did you really think that I thought I was your first taste of girl flesh?"
Gabrielle moved over next to the secured warrior princess and tightened the winches that held Xena's ankles until the dark one's strong legs paralleled the upward tilt of her arms.
"You look cute when you are vulnerable, Xena." Gabrielle smiled and added, "I hope that my calling you cute and vulnerable didn't offend your warrior butch code too much, darling."
Gabrielle secured the ivory totem to the harness which she then fastened to her thigh.
"You know, when I was on the receiving end, I don't think I quite appreciated how large this was until it was far too late. Did you have it patterned after anyone in particular, Xena? A god perhaps? Or was there a barbarian warlord you were fond of?"
Gabrielle moved closer to the bound warrior and slipped a finger within to test Xena's wetness.
"At least lubrication won't be a problem." Gabrielle paused and added "I never realized that your clit was quite so big, darling. It's rather swollen now."
Gabrielle's tongued flicked over Xena's warm womanhood. As a shiver ran up Xena's body, Gabrielle sucked gently, and then bit the soft flesh until Xena convulsed.
"You aren't getting off that easy, darling. Well I guess you are," Gabrielle laughed, "but that is only the beginning. I want you screaming for me to stop. Before I finish with you you won't be able to ride Argos for a week."
As Xena's breath caught loudly, Gabrielle placed her leg between Xena's thighs and thrust the ivory deep within her. A scream. Again. Sobs, cries. Again. Again.
Images drop unbidden across the Warrior's mind as she slips through her reality in and out of time:
Fire burning across the resistant village/a girl holding her mother, looking up at her conqueror, blood dripping from her sword/her men sending bodies scattered limb twisted across the earth/the dagger plunging into Callisto as Gabrielle falls headlong, lost hopelessly into the gulf/an infinite beach horizon lined with crosses as she looks down upon the Romans/Gabrielle on the cross beside her as the sword enters -- a scream echoes inside her skull: That hasn't happened yet! I can still change that. Let me change it! Let me ....
Her body tumbles out of consciousness as her throat cries out:
Then only the moans and sobs for air as her body succumbs to what it most desired.