Turning the Tide of Battle...

He closed his eyes tightly, and the expression filling his face was one of rapt awe, as she lovingly stoked his rising desire. Back and forth the gentle hand moved upon his raging hard on, back and forth, as he timidly gathered his arms around her back in a hesitant embrace.

He lay his head upon her shoulder, his face buried in her full hair, a moan escaping his lips as he nuzzled helplessly against the nape of her neck, and in ecstatic agony, he whispered in her ear- "Mercy". Her response was to slightly draw her face away to look him full in the face, and she met his pleading eyes with an expression that was at once bemused, before it seemed to visibly soften at some thought.

Though he was somewhat taller than she, and as nature would have it more deeply muscled in his physique, he was obviously completely in her thrall, as surely as if she had uttered some powerful incantation and cast an insurmountable spell upon his spirit. The hand- that small hand that now commanded the full attention of his manhood, having paused at the hearing of his plea, now gently resumed its pleasuring motion- back and forth, as irresistible in its allure as the beckoning of quiet surf lapping upon the shore. They stood there, in the middle of the gladiatorial field of the coliseum, like two lovers in a dance- arms wrapped around one another, and lost to the greater world around them as they moved slowly to unheard music. Her soft hand continued to love him, slowly and languidly, until he threw his head back with a loud cry and surrendered his virginity to her. He again buried his face in her hair, kissing her feverishly and hugging her tightly to himself.

All who watched wondered what would be the outcome of this meeting, this moment. Coming to witness, and having been whipped into a frenzy of lust at the spectacle of unbridled, erotic carnage, the unexpected twist of events playing out before them found the audience leaning forward, silent and breathless with anticipation.

The tender warrior woman embraced her captive deeply, her face coming close by his, cheek to cheek. Her hand upon his cock glided down the length of his shaft, until it opened enough to encompass his jewels, enclosing them within a velvet grip that caused him to gasp. He stood rigid, certain that this marked the beginning of his final moments and that she was preparing to deliver a death blow. He closed his eyes tightly, wincing at the inevitable throb of pain that comes of having one's nuts squeezed, however lightly.

The breath that he was holding reflexively was released in the moments after her lips found his. A soft kiss, the kind where lips touch and stick together ever so slightly before they drift apart, found him. His eyes opened, to meet hers with an imploring, confused look. She gazed deeply into him, with a steamy quality that spoke volumes of all manner of carnal ambitions. Another touching of lips- hers upon his, and the invasion of her tongue within his mouth- accepted now without resistance. To all who looked on, the way he inclined his face, to accept her kiss and to return its favor, signaled her complete triumph in the battle of the sexes.

"You are mine," she whispered, in a voice at once soft and husky, as she held his gaze within the deep brown depths of her eyes. Her hand never relinquished its grasp on the young man's jewels. Moments passed as they stood, eyes locked together. As the elixir she passed to him with her kiss took control of his senses, in the moments that they held one another on the field of battle, he felt the tight clench of apprehension and fear draining away, and a slow bloom of desire more intense than any he'd experienced in his few years of life, welling up from deep within and weaving in his very soul an unending tangle of need, for her- to be with her, in every way, forever and always.

Turning, and with her small hand still holding him- gently now, she slowly led him out of the arena, as the multitudes above them roared their approval...

***

From their royal vantage point above the field of battle, the Empress rubbed her husband's forearm in a show of feigned compassion over the loss of his favored gladiator. The action dripped with condescension as she looked down at the drying wetness on the battle ground, and turning her gaze to see its effect upon the man seated beside her. All physical traces of the conquered gladiator would be gone in a short time, soaking softly into the bosom of the earth from which he had once come.

The Emperor, proud ruler and man that he was, involuntarily wrinkled his nose as he detected the scent of a woman's arousal in the air, and he felt shame as his cock betrayed him, stiffening in response to the wonderful, musky fragrance of a woman waiting to be lovingly filled. The Empress spoke to him, at length, as she watched the dampness of the former champion fade away.

"They say the southern women bring with them an elixir, distilled from the prickly vegetation of their land. It is said to make women wet, with a constant desire for sensual pleasure, and gives rise to a fragrance that makes men weak with desire and longing." After she shared these remarks in rather an off-hand manner, her husband grunted in disapproval. That elixir must have been what felled his gladiator and made him so... accepting of his demise.

"You granted their tribe mercantile rights when first they came to our city... They have already begun the sale of the potion to women across our land." she continued, a rather teasing tone to her voice, and the emperor went stiff, his eyes wide. His mind raced at the impact such a liquid might have on the standing of men in society. Women, emboldened by such newfound powers would doubtless relish the opportunity of holding such erotic control over the men who had done as they pleased with them since the dawn of time. His wife took his hand coyly into her own and slowly guided it to her lap. Even through the satiny material of her royal gowns he could feel the warmth there, and a moistness touched his skin that made him catch his breath at the sudden sense of swooning that washed over him.

"I had the servants lay in a good month's supply, enough for all the women of the capital" she continued lightly, as her flooded nethers drenched his fingers and her thighs clamped to hold him tightly in a grip from which he found he had no desire to escape. "Oh," she continued after a moment, "there is one other thing. The warriors among these new women have perfected a certain- technique, shall we say. A way of gaining control and ensuring their dominance of society. We just watched how effective it can be at enabling women to at long last win the battle of the sexes. That war has, even now, entered its final phase."

She met his eyes with a come hither gaze. "Come, my husband. I feel my apetites rising..."

He looked at his wife with a mixture of arousal and horror. The powerful invitation of a woman's sexual arousal reaching him wasn't coming from the field of battle below them, as he had first thought. It overwhelmingly beckoned him, as it surrounded him- a heady perfume radiating from the beauty at his side. As she took his hand, his thoughts became hopelessly jumbled between anger and erotic titillation at her now obvious intention of usurping the throne by way of lovingly "slurping" him forever into her tender depths.

And as she kissed him, long and deeply, he did not resist...

***

The aqueducts nearly collapsed in the time that followed, from the burden of vast quantities of fragrant, clear fluid that flowed down the channels to the crops that eagerly grew- in response to the bounty offered up by countless men turned into gentle streams, quiet rivulets, and drying stains of femcum upon the good earth.