Journey's End

by LJ Maas

  “The way my body feels, pressed against you?” Gabrielle ground herself into my mound, and I could feel how wet I was getting, merely from the sound of her voice.

  “My... ” I groaned a second time.

  “My touch?” her final maneuver in this game of seduction was to bring her fingers up to run the fingertips across the smooth silk of my shirt, brushing back and forth across very sensitive nipples.

  “Gods!” I finally let this last word out with a long release of breath that told me I had been holding it in too long.

  “Gabrielle... oh, yes... I--I... oh yea, right there... I have men in my study, Gabrielle, waiting... ungh... for me.” I slipped and stammered, but Gabrielle was relentless and I guess I could have pretended that this wasn’t exactly what I wanted, that Gabrielle’s aggressive behavior wasn’t exactly what I dreamed of, but I would have been lying and my physical body was betraying the truth of the situation.

  “You’ve given me my dream, My Lord... I want to give you yours.” Gabrielle whispered, seriously.

  With the last measure of self-control I was capable of, I pushed the small woman away slightly, confusion apparent in my gaze. I felt myself moan out of need when I saw those emerald eyes staring back up at me, full of heat and unwavering. A wave of acute arousal broke over me and I could feel the heat, along with the incredible wetness, trapped between my legs.

  “Dream?” I asked in confusion.”

  “That day, My Lord, you asked my what my dream was.” Gabrielle tenderly pulled my shirt open and kissed my collarbone. “Then, you told me your dream. You made my dream come true, My Lord, today... in my heart I feel I can make your dream come true.”

  I continued to look at her in confusion, replaying that afternoon, when we both barely knew one another.

  “You told me your greatest wish was that someday, I would touch you because I wanted to, and not because you commanded me to do so.”

  Gabrielle answered and then stood there, her hands unconsciously stroking my hips, my back, and my shoulders, apparently willing to wait forever for my reaction.

  “And, do you?” I asked, hesitantly, holding my own out-of-control breath, while waiting for the answer.

  “Yes, My Lord... oh yes.” Gabrielle answered quickly and I was struck nearly dumb by the passionate glaze covering her eyes.

  She pressed her mouth against my chest and began to tease and tongue a dark nipple through the smoothness of the shirt. She wrapped her lips around the hardened nub, sucked, and pulled, at last tugging the sensitive flesh with her teeth.

  “Gods, woman!”

  I arched my back, unable to hold back any longer, not really sure why I wanted to in the first place. I wove my fingers into the thick golden hair, pulling her firmly against my chest. I rocked my hips in keeping with the rhythm she was using, suckling at my breast. When she at last pulled back to see the effects of her handiwork, the wet shirt clung to my breast, causing me to shiver, the nipple extending even further in its excitement.

  I watched as the smaller woman licked her lips, all the while staring at my chest.

  “Off, please.” Gabrielle pleaded in a husky voice, tugging my shirt from my pants.

  I saw this as my opportunity and decided that fighting this was a very stupid thing and I did not consider myself an idiotic woman. I briefly wondered at what the men in my study were doing or thinking, when it was quite clear that there was some very serious pleasuring going on in the next room.

  I lifted my arms and Gabrielle helped me pull the lightweight shirt over my head. “Come here.” I commanded and pulled her into a fierce kiss, one that she equaled in intensity. I pushed her robe from her shoulders, letting it fall to the ground, and ran my hands down the smooth back, grabbing her backside and pulling her into me.

  I felt her small hands at the laces to my trousers and when they were halfway untied, she slipped her hand inside, and those incredible fingers slid through drenched folds.

  “Gods, you’re so... so wet.” Gabrielle rasped, not waiting for a response, but leaning in to envelope a nipple within very warm, soft lips.

  I’m not sure if it was the physical pleasure, the words, or the fact that the very arousing words were coming from Gabrielle. I only know that I was trying to peel my trousers down my legs so I could spread them wider, all the while, she teased me until I was on the verge of an orgasm, only to slow her movements. Once I caught my breath, she resumed the mercilessly, exquisite torture.

  Gabrielle slid down my body, pulling my trousers further down my legs. I could feel her breasts, pressing against my overheated skin, feel the tightness of her own excitement as the tips elongated and hardened at the contact. For the third time, Gabrielle backed off and I could sense my climax building within me, even though I was being repeatedly denied my release. Wet didn’t begin to describe the state my sex was in; drenched... sopping, those were the only terms I could equate with my condition at this moment. I have never in my life begged for sex, not even in a romantic fashion, but Gods, my senses were telling me that if I didn’t come soon, I would simply die. The next thing they were telling me is that Gabrielle was the only one who could bring about that release. It didn’t matter if the thought were true or not, it’s what I believed.

  “Gabrielle.” I panted.

  The blonde was now kneeling between my legs, the flat of her tongue licking along the inside of my thighs, capturing the wetness that flowed from me. She placed a gently kiss on the dark patch of hair, allowing only the tip of her tongue to graze the outer lips of my sex, no matter how strongly I thrust my hips toward her.

  “Gabrielle... please, Gods, please.” I moaned, finally begging, as I thought I would. I knew what that tongue would feel like, I knew what skill she possessed in using it, and all I could do was half-stand, half-sit there and whimper and plead.

  “Tell me. Tell me what you would like. Anything at all and I’ll do it, Xena.” Gabrielle murmured against my skin.

  I felt my eyes go wide and my stomach muscles clenched down hard as an orgasm ripped through me, caused by mere words. It was the sound of Gabrielle’s voice, seductively asking my pleasure, then finally the catalyst that sent me careening over passion’s precipice. The sound of my own name. It both shocked and pleasured me, seeing those green eyes, dark with passion, looking up at me and whispering my name. For a brief moment, I saw fear in Gabrielle’s eyes, but as I still trembled from the effects of my climax, I grinned down at her and her forward behavior. Barely having my breathing yet under control, I felt my need rising insistently once more.

  “Gods, woman... don’t stop.” I struggled to say.

  Relief flooded her face. There was no tender seduction, Gabrielle knew what I needed and went about giving it to me. Oh and she did give it to me. Even in my wildest days, I don’t ever remember a tongue lashing the likes of the one I now received. It didn’t take long and once again, I threw back my head and howled out my release.

  I needed to feel her and so I pulled Gabrielle to her feet and kissed her, tasting myself on her lips and in her mouth. The kisses were passionate, but no longer tender. It was rough and raw, and what excited me the most was that Gabrielle was the instigator in it all.

  “Sweet Athena!” I cried out, feeling Gabrielle’s hand press into me. I let go of the blonde and grabbed onto the edge of the table as the young slave eased her fingers, then eventually her whole hand inside me, repeatedly pulling back to lubricate the small hand with my own juices, then easing in some more. I crossed that invisible line between pleasure and pain, now feeling only the gratification of the physical act. I tilted my hips and Gabrielle pressed her hand in the rest of the way. She stayed like that for a moment until I became accustomed to the incredible fullness inside of me. She leaned into my body, pressing my back flat against the table, my legs still dangling over the edges. Her hand shifted within me and I released a groan of delight. Then, leaning over my prone figure, she feasted on my breasts and my brain was close to its shutdown point. Her l
ips, teeth, tongue caused a renewed wetness that coated the small hand inside me, and my hips began to rock against it.

  “Xena... ” the small slave whispered.

  Gabrielle moved away from my chest and I could hear distinct whimpers coming from my throat. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the loss of her mouth, sucking me, or the way she whispered my name.

  “Please... please, Gabrielle,” I implored her hand to pick up the pace, pressing my hips up repeatedly.

  “Xena... ” she tormented me again by flicking my clit with her tongue. Without any notice, she began sucking on the engorged nub, swirling her tongue out to run along its length.

  “Oh Gods, yes... that’s it... unghh.” I encouraged.

  Finally, the hand moved and I cried out as the tongue disappeared, but I was soon delirious, lost to the ecstasy of Gabrielle’s hand pumping in and out of me.

  “Yes... Gods, oh, yes, fuck me harder... deeper... ” I cried out.

  I was in a place where there was no thought, only feeling. I didn’t have to be the Conqueror, didn’t have to be in control, all I had to do was exist in this pleasure. The sensory delight was making its way to me and all I had to do was lie here and let this beautiful woman make a gift of it to me. My hips worked in a furious fashion and when I opened my eyes, I could see the sweat that plastered Gabrielle’s hair to her face. When our eyes met, Gabrielle leaned down and put her lips close to my ear.

  “Come for me, Xena.” Then she bit down on my earlobe as she sucked the tender flesh in, I felt it all the way to the hand pounding into me.

  I did as she bid me. I came for her... over and over again.

  * * *

  I tied off the leather laces on the flaps along my trousers. Gabrielle sat watching me, suspiciously quiet, and now I cursed myself for giving in. I should have remained stronger, because now the girl felt used.

  “Gabrielle--”

  My Lord--”

  We both said in unison, then we both smiled hesitantly.

  “Gabrielle, are you all right?” I asked.

  “Forgive me My Lord, I don’t know what... I’ve never... ”

  I realized the problem and a welcome relief spread through me. Gods, at least it wasn't me.

  “Gabrielle,” I said gently, pulling her up from the chair she sat upon. “It was wonderful.” I said, murmuring the words into the soft blonde hair. I shivered slightly as her body came into contact with mine. Perhaps it was remembering the exceptionally gratifying experience of a few moments ago. “I’ve never felt anything quite as wonderful in my entire life.”

  “But, I--”

  “You acted with a passion that was very welcome and that I hope to see more of. Only not too soon.” My smile turned into a grimace as I took a step away. I had a feeling I was going to walk funny for a couple of days after this morning’s pleasure.

  “I’ve never felt this way before, My Lord.” Gabrielle responded, as if pondering her own thoughts.

  “It’s probably my own fault anyway,” I pulled my young slave back into my arms, loath to give up this feeling just yet. “Probably all that adrenaline still in you after last night.”

  A dark cloud of what I interpreted as fear suddenly crossed Gabrielle’s features. I knew instantly, what she feared, and I reassured her, as I expected to do many times, until she was comfortable with the fact.

  “Gabrielle, you have no reason to fear reprisal for these actions. I will never punish you for bringing this ardor to our bed, or for doing what you must to physically protect yourself. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, My Lord.” This time, she answered with a smile.

  * * *

  I walked into my study and every man that I counseled with, was seated there. Gods, does it actually get any more embarrassing than this? Ten men sat before me and as I walked, somewhat delicately, I might add, to the large desk that was my own, I could see the amusement in their eyes. One or two of them even had the beginnings of a smile.

  I couldn’t very well hide it, now could I? All ten of them just finished listening to my verbal cries of lustful delight, as my small slave brought me to Elysium and back. They heard, quite well, I am sure; me begging like my life was on the line. There was nothing to do, but to suck it up, glare like Hades, and intimidate the Tartarus out of them.

  I opened the scrolls and pieces of parchment I would need for this meeting. Never raising my eyes from the papers before me, I slipped my ever-present dagger from my belt and laid it on the desk, in full view of everyone.

  “The first man to laugh leaves here, one member short of a threesome.” I commented in a menacing, low voice.

  Every man in the room suddenly lost his need to smile, yet had an incredible urge to cross his legs. I smiled in triumph; I cleared my throat and started the meeting.

  CHAPTER 11

  LITTLE LAMB, WHO MADE THEE?

  “WHAT DID YOU spend your afternoon doing, little one?” I asked Gabrielle as we took our evening meal together.

  It was a fortnight ago that my young slave turned a corner in her life. It was evident in the way Gabrielle talked, walked, and even held herself. I’m sure she didn’t even notice the changes that were taking place, but my eyes took it all in. She smiled a lot more and sometimes, I think, she even forgot it was me she was chatting to. She told me of her day and I sat there, an elbow leaning on the table, my chin resting within the palm of my hand. Somehow fascinated, by every damn word the girl uttered.

  Gabrielle’s newfound confidence put many of my own fears at ease. I no longer worried quite as much when she was away from me, knowing that she now possessed enough attitude, to keep her slightly out of harm’s way. Her days, it seems, were spent filling the scrolls I purchased for her, I know she spent time everyday with Delia, and once I even saw her laughing with my maid, Sylla, on their way to the market.

  As ruler, my own time was not my own very often, but when I did take time away from the business of running the lands in my care, I spent that time with this young woman. Occasionally, I gave permission for Gabrielle to come down to the practice fields, to watch as I worked out. For some reason, unknown to me, she enjoyed sitting atop one of the low, stone walls that surrounded the sparring area, watching as I exchanged blows with a variety of weapons, against my soldiers. I rarely allowed the young woman to be there, yet she never pleaded to come. She simply smiled and nodded enthusiastically when I asked her if she would like to join me. I admit there were two reasons for my hesitation in bringing my slave down there. The obvious was my concern with a pretty girl being in sight of my men, especially my pretty girl. I’ve lived with or around soldiers nearly all my life and on the whole, they’re a pretty loutish bunch. I didn’t see the need to put Gabrielle through any undue humiliation, nor did I desire to put myself in the position where I would be compelled to kill a man for a leer or a whistle. I knew how jealous I could become and how unreasonable my temper could be. Why play with fire?

  The second reason was more of a personal problem on my part. It was, very simply speaking, disconcerting to see Gabrielle, watching with rapt fascination, as I practiced and demonstrated my fighting skills against young men barely half my age. In the heart of this very large woman, this Conqueror, there resided a mass of insecurities, especially when it came to Gabrielle. The truth is, I was never quite certain as to whether the young woman wished to watch me, or the young men I pummeled.

  “Wait... back up. Who is Anya?” I asked.

  I had the unnerving ability, to some, to let my mind wander, but still hear everything going on around me. Gabrielle moved to the bed in the middle of our conversation, and when I looked up again she had her legs drawn up into a casual position against her chest, her back leaning against the carved wooden headboard. She was telling me of a woman she was becoming friends with, yet I knew no one in the castle by that name.

  “She is Petra’s mother, My Lord. Remember the boy you--”

  “Oh, yes, yes. She’s well then?” I asked, remembering how fra
il and ill she looked when Kuros led me to the rooms within the palace, that he appointed for the woman and her children.

  “Very well, My Lord. She’s teaching me how to sew and create the most amazing things with cloth. Do you know she was apprenticed to a famous seamstress in Athens before she married?”

  “Indeed?” I answered seriously, indulging my slave. “And, who was this famous seamstress?”

  “Messalina.” Gabrielle said with some excitement.

  I sat up in my chair a little straighter. “She studied this craft under Messalina?” I asked.

  “Yes, My Lord. Do you know of this famous woman?”

  “Yes.” I answered distractedly, remembering a time when the woman known only as Messalina, designed all the silk robes I wore.

  I looked up and Gabrielle was watching me patiently, perhaps waiting for me to explain. Since I already answered in the affirmative, how could I not explain myself?

  “When I was a much younger woman, before you were even born, I first became known as the Xena the Conqueror. I conquered all of Greece, the Roman Empire, the Far East, Gaul, and set up my Palace here, in Corinth. Messalina was perhaps the age you are now, but even then,” I shook my head and smiled, “she was truly gifted.”

  I paused and took a sip of water, remembering the young woman and the heavy brocades she created for me to wear in public, reminiscent of the flowing robes I became accustomed to wearing from my time in Chin. Back then; that land influenced everything in my life, too bad I didn’t study their principles more. I had only to describe my preferences to her once, and soon after the girl literally created the style of clothing, I would wear for the next twenty seasons.

  “She designed all the clothing I wore then. There wasn’t much kindness in me then, but I remember being kind to her. I think I admired her talent. She was like Delia, though not quite as forward about it. She never thought twice about telling me when my clothing designs were outlandishly tasteless or downright ugly. The way she looked at me sometimes... it’s the same way you look at me.” I let a small bittersweet smile cross my lips at the memory.