Beate the Barbarian Warrior.
By Strongarm4.
Beate, the Goth’s champion warrior is challenged by another female warrior.

( During the decline of the Roman Empire in the 5th century AD a number of barbarian armies including the Goths and the Vandals roamed much of Europe intent on rape and pillage. Many included female warriors every bit as intimidating a their male counterparts. These stories are concerned with the adventures of one of these true Amazons, Beate the Barbarian.)

1. The village.

The Goth warriors approached the village at dawn. Moving silently they paused at the edge of the woods abutting the northern side of the village and waited. The villagers could be seen going about their early morning duties as the settlement rose to meet the new day. To one end of the village a large villa stood alone, set a little apart from the other buildings, by the road that ran through the centre. At that time a little traffic was already passing through, small ox carts hauling provisions to the nearby town, but as the barbarians watched they were relieved to see that none of the traffic was comprised of soldiers from the nearest town’s garrison.
The barbarians kept looking over their shoulders towards the tall woman with long dark hair who sat astride her horse watching the comings and goings of the village with complete concentration. The woman was dressed as they were, or at least the better equipped of the barbarians, in breastplate and studded leather skirt with a pair of fine knee length boots and her finely tooled broad sword hanging from her belt. The sword was no ornament, for this was Beate, the Goth champion, and she was in charge of the raiding party.
Suddenly the woman raised her arm, then brought it down in a scything motion. The Goths, recognising the signal, immediately advanced on the village. Within seconds there were screams as the inhabitants realised that they were under attack. The Goths ran amongst the buildings smiting anyone who resisted and herding the rest of the frightened villagers together.
The woman watched with satisfaction as he warriors proceeded about their work. Suddenly there was a commotion at the end of the village. The woman craned her neck to see the cause and urged her horse to move in that direction. As she approached all became clear. A large red-headed man, armed with a sword, was putting up a stern resistance. Already one of the Goths lay prone, most likely dead, thought the woman, whilst another of the warriors was nursing a nasty wound to his thigh.
As she approached her lieutenant, Hydrax, saw her and trotted over as a group of four Goths closed in on the red-haired man.
“Who in hades is this, Hydrax,” she asked.
“Dunno, Beate,” came the reply, “but he’s bloody good, must be a retired soldier I’d say and it seems he’s the village smith.” Hydrax gestured towards the smithy standing behind the red-haired swordsman.
“Leave him, he’s mine,” barked Beate as she suddenly slid off the back of her horse. Obediently the four warriors backed away from the red-bearded man as Beate drew her sword. The tall brunette looked at the smith who stood waiting, idly swinging his sword arm. She saw a faint smile form on his face as he suddenly realised that this opponent was a woman, even if a big one. That smile sealed the man’s fate. Beate recalled that other men had smiled when they realised they were faced by a woman. It had always been a pleasure to kill such arrogant men. The big brunette strode towards the smith who placed one foot forwards and stood at the ready.
Beate got to within swords distance of her quarry then hacked wildly at the smith. The red-haired man parried the blow with ease then went onto the attack himself, grunting with effort as he swung at Beate, who backed away under the onslaught. Emboldened the man swung more wildly as Beate dodged the blows, the brunette appearing at a loss as to how to deal with her adversary. Suddenly the smith was at full stretch and Beate, moving with incredible speed, slipped inside his guard. Without hesitating Beate rammed her right knee up into the smith’s unprotected balls. There was a satisfying crunch as her knee collided with soft tissue and the smith’s eyes rolled upwards as he simultaneously dropped his sword and fell to his knees. Beate stepped backwards and allowed the smith to catch his breath and re-direct his gaze towards her. Now it was Beate’s turn to smile at the smith. Then, with one mighty stroke, the brunette severed the smith’s head from his body. Beate heard a cry of triumph from the warriors who had stopped to watch the encounter. She turned back towards them and singled out Hydrax.
“Have the rest of the villagers been taken,” she asked in a brisk businesslike tone.
“Yes, Beate,” he replied, “all but one or to who ran to the woods. Shall I send men after them?”
Beate surveyed the group being gathered together by the road, it was a good haul with a number of young men and women, good enough, she thought, not to risk time looking for any of the escapees when a large force of Imperial troops could arrive at any moment.
“No, leave then be,” she replied, “we’ll take what we have to Alaric, but first burn these huts,” she gestured around her at the buildings that bounded the road. Hydrax nodded in agreement and went off to organise the haul of prisoners. Beate re-mounted her horse and road over to the gates of the villa. There had been no signs of life from the place and one look showed that the inhabitants, most probably wealthy landowners or merchants, had abandoned the place in advance of the barbarians. Beate spat in disgust, how typical, she thought, that the wealthy should leave the villagers to fend for themselves. Beate looked forward to meeting some of these aristocrats. She would show them a little Goth justice when the time came.

Alaric, King of the Goths.

Beate led the raiding party back to the Goth encampment, in and around a small town that the barbarians had captured the previous week. Upon entering the camp, Beate left Hydrax in charge of the prisoners and went to seek Alaric, the Goth king.
When she found him, Beate found him preoccupied with the arrangements for a visit from Wraxall, a rival barbarian leader, the King of the Vandals. It was Alaric’s great dream to unite the two groups in one great host, capable of destroying any force that the Imperial army sent against them, and therefore this meeting was of the utmost importance to him.
Consequently he was fairly brisk with the tall brunette as she reported on the raid, but Beate could see that he was pleased with the result by the way that he smiled at her. Alaric was not given to a lot of smiles but when the muscular brunette was around she noticed that he smiled a lot, in fact when they were alone together he did more than smile, at least when out of sight of his wife whose temper was legendary amongst the Goth force.
Alaric was smiling at Beate now as he listened to her then he spoke.
“Well done Beate, an excellent haul by the sound of it. Now as you know, tonight I meet with Wraxall, and I wish you to be present with the other chiefs, I would like Wraxall to meet my champion warrior, I’m sure he will be impressed.”
“Of course,” replied Beate, “whatever you say.”
Alaric nodded to her in thanks and then the Goth king was gone, returning to the villa that he had chosen as his headquarters to await the arrival of Wraxall and his chiefs.


2. The Challenge.

That evening a feast was held to celebrate the arrival of Wraxall and his party of Vandal chiefs. Alaric wished to impress upon the newcomers the benefits of combining all of the barbarian forces into one unbeatable whole and was determined to make the old chieftain and all of his people welcome. The main chiefs of the Goths were all present in the great hall that Alaric had earmarked for his own use and naturally Beate sat amongst them, close to the top table where Alaric sat with Wraxall by his side.
There was much noise and laughter throughout the hall during the evening and much wine and mead was consumed by all, including Beate, who regaled her neighbours with a report of her successful raid of that morning.
On the top table Alaric and Wraxall appeared to be getting on well and spent much time discussing the strength of the forces under their command. At length Wraxall asked Alaric about the tall, dark, female who sat just in front of them.
“Why that is probably the finest warrior of my whole force,” Alaric replied, “indeed only today she has carried out a successful raid on a village to the south and returned with a large group of prisoners.” Wraxall studied the woman for some time before replying.
“She is certainly big and also a great beauty, a stunning combination,” he replied, “strong too I don’t doubt.”|
“Formidably so,” said Alaric, with pride in his voice, “indeed I would say the strongest of all. Perhaps you would like to meet her.”
“Certainly,” replied Wraxall eagerly, for the older man always had admired strong women, “I would be delighted, Alaric.”
With that, Alaric sent one of the servers to summon Beate to the top table. The muscular female warrior answered the summons immediately.
“You asked for me, my lord,” said Beate as she stood before the two chieftains.
“Certainly,” replied Alaric, “my friend Wraxall would like to meet you, please come to this side of the table.”
With a self-assured smile, Beate placed one hand on the long, high table then vaulted across it with ease to stand next to Wraxall’s seat.
“Now,” continued Alaric, “show Wraxall the strength of your right arm.”
The beautiful brunette knew what was expected of her and happily complied with Alaric’s request by raising her right arm and slowly flexing her huge bicep. The room was filled with murmurs of appreciation and Wraxall himself was quick to reach out and fondle the iron hard muscle. He nodded to Alaric in satisfaction and continued to stroke Beate’s arm appreciatively as he looked straight into the brunette’s piercing blue eyes. Beate confidently stared straight back into the Vandal king’s eyes. All the time the big brunette was wondering if the old goat would dare to suggest that she slept in his tent. She wanted to smile at the thought, for the old fool wouldn’t survive the night with her. However the big brunette was to be surprised as Wraxall had something else on his mind besides the sexual pleasures implicit in Beate’s beauty.
“An absolutely superb example, Alaric, I quite agree,” said Wraxall, nodding his approval, “but I think that you must meet one of my own warriors.” Releasing his grip on Beate’s arm he turned to one of his attendants and whispered in his ear. The attendant left the room and Wraxall turned back to Alaric.
“In my own band I also have a female who is quite exceptional,” the older man continued, “I have sent for Kara so you can you what I mean.”
Before Alaric could reply there was a stir at the entrance and Wraxall’s attendant re-appeared accompanied by a tall, strikingly attractive woman with long blonde hair, wearing a long cloak over a brief tunic that did little to conceal her jutting breasts. The blonde made her way imperiously to the top table and stood before Wraxall.
“This is Kara,” said Wraxall to Alaric, “one of the greatest warriors of our tribe,” he looked towards Kara and continued,”take off your cloak, my dear, let the great Alaric see that he doesn’t have all of the finest female warriors in his camp.” The blonde smiled and did as she was bidden, allowing the cloak to fall to the floor revealing herself to be wearing a short skirt of studded leather strips and an armless leather tunic. A gasp of appreciation went up from the assembled chieftains as they craned their necks for a better view of Kara. The blonde was indeed an extraordinary sight, she stood almost as tall as Beate and though she was less heavily muscled, still the briefest glance would show that Kara was obviously an enormously fit and powerful woman.
“Kara has proved herself on the field of battle many times,” Wraxall continued, “and has also represented me in combat. On each occasion successfully, as I’m sure you have realised.”
Alaric nodded his approval of Wraxall’s champion, she was certainly an extraordinary woman, and he was quick to compliment the Vandal king on his choice. He then indicated that Beate should show Kara to a seat at the table where the brunette had been sitting and then turned back to Wraxall to resume his discussion with his new ally.
Beate did as she was bidden, the two women sat opposite each other and begun to eat. They said nothing to one another but exchanged glances as the mixed Goth and Vandal chiefs around them began to recount tales of each woman’s adventures. This went on for some time for apparently there was much to be said about both women and their adventures fighting the Imperial Army. Finally one of the Goth chiefs began to wax lyrical about Beate’s exploits in the arena, where, fighting as Alaric’s champion, she had proved unbeatable and killed several opponents, both male and female.
At this point Kara spoke up for the first time, looking Beate directly in the eye.
“A fine record, no doubt,” she said, “but then you never came across me on the field of battle, nor in the arena, come to that. Then it might have been a different story.”
“I doubt that you would want to encounter me in the arena,” said Beate with a condescending smile, “I have never lost in combat yet and certainly wouldn’t to another woman.” Beate pulled a leg off her chicken and took a bite, the beautiful brunette obviously considered the discussion closed.
“But I will gladly meet you in combat wherever you choose,” said Kara quietly. The room suddenly filled with the excited chatter of the chieftains as they realised that the full-breasted Vandal called Kara was actually challenging Beate, the mightiest warrior in the Goth horde!
For a moment Beate was silent, for once the muscular Goth was too surprised to speak whilst all around waited for what would happen next.
“Well,” continued Kara with a smile, “you are right to consider carefully what you say next, fear can lead to hasty decisions which are regretted at length.” The Goth chieftains all reacted to this with a gasp of surprise, they had never heard anyone speak to Beate like this before.
“Fear,” said Beate, frowning deeply, “I know no fear, I will meet you in the arena at any time that you choose.”
By now the hall was silent and both Alaric and Wraxall were listening to the two women with as much interest as anyone else in the hall. They could see that both women were eyeing each other with obvious animosity and looked ready to fight at any moment. Alaric knew from past experience that Beate clearly considered herself Kara’s superior, the brunette had often boasted to him that she was the strongest female warrior in the world and he had yet to have any reason to doubt the boast, certainly Kara, though impressive was significantly smaller than Beate. However he also realised that Kara could see in Beate an opportunity to enhance her own deadly reputation amongst Wraxall’s tribe, indeed amongst warriors everywhere. Alaric quickly realised that it was important that he handled this possibly deadly rivalry in the right way, he quickly stood up and raised his hand. The room fell respectfully silent and awaited his response. Alaric looked around him. The assembled Goth and Vandal chieftains were held together by the loosest of alliances, Alaric knew that it would not do for them all to start settling their petty feuds in combat. Alaric was well aware that he could end up with no army at all, and yet the prospect of these two women fighting certainly excited him as much as anyone else present, and he knew that the Goth warriors would enjoy the spectacle no less. Anyhow it was Wraxall who seemed to have instigated this challenge by introducing Kara, it was probably his idea of making his mark for the Vandals in front of the main Goth army.
Alaric smiled to himself, it was not a difficult decision for him to make, for he was confident that Beate would prevail in any encounter between the two women, and if Wraxall wanted to risk his champion with Beate, so be it.
“Beate and Kara, step forward,” he commanded. The two women stepped forward and stood before him. Alaric ran his eyes over the two warriors with approval, he realised that it wouldn’t do for them to kill each other, rather a match without weapons, he thought, to settle the matter.
“I decree that you will settle this argument in the old arena just outside the walls,” he declared, “but you will settle it with only your bare hands for weapons.” He looked from one to another as an excited murmur ran around the room. “I will not have members of this army hacking each other to pieces, there are plenty of opportunities to do that to our enemies,” a ripple of laughter ran around the room. Alaric smiled and continued, “so the two of you shall fight bare handed, and whichever makes the other submit three times shall be judged the winner,” Alaric paused and looked both women in the eye in turn, “and the winner,” he continued, “ shall have the loser as her slave for a year, do you both agree?” Again he looked from Beate to Kara and was not disappointed, both women replied without hesitation.
“I agree,” both replied together, each glancing at the other with mutual loathing.
The room immediately filled with the sound of the assembled chieftains all talking together at once, such was their excitement and enthusiasm for Alaric’s decision. Alaric smiled to himself in satisfaction as he saw the response to his decision. This would provide the barbarian horde with some well deserved entertainment, he thought, some light relief before the storm. For Alaric was only too well aware of the mighty struggles to come.

3. The Arena.

The next morning the old arena was filled to overflowing with the warriors of both Alaric’s army and Wraxall’s guard. All had spoken of little else but the fight between Beate and Kara since hearing of it the previous night and a number of wagers had been made although there seemed to be little doubt amongst Alaric’s men that Beate was the undisputed favourite. All had heard of her great strength and prowess in battle, indeed many had witnessed it, and so only a few rated her opponent’s chances against the mighty Beate despite Kara’s reputation amongst the Vandals.
Suddenly a great cheer went up from the crowd as Beate and Kara both entered the arena marching a couple of paces apart. Both women were an absolutely stunning sight for Beate and Kara were both naked apart from skimpy, soft leather thongs, their rippling muscles and firm, jutting breasts a sight that was guaranteed to raise the temperature of the crowd, already high, to fever pitch. As the women marched towards the arena’s tribune Beate stopped occasionally to flex her mighty muscles for the benefit of the crowd whilst the equally attractive Kara also raised her arms above her head raising cheers amongst the Goths for the way it accentuated her excellent figure if for nothing else.
Amongst the spectators knowing glances were exchanged as the Goths and Vandals compared the two women. “Why,” said one, “Beate will make short work of this, Kara doesn’t stand a chance against her, she’ll be lucky to be able to walk out of the arena after Beate’s finished with her.” Another agreed, saying that Kara’s only chance was to smother Beate with her tits, a comment that brought laughter all around. However Wraxall’s men remained quiet, many had seen Kara in action and a number of them had placed large bets with Alaric’s men in quiet confidence of the blonde’s powers. Similarly some of the Goths noticed that Kara, whilst less heavily muscled overall than Beate, still possessed taut and powerful thighs and had the bearing of a true warrior. As the two combatants approached the arena’s tribune where Alaric sat side by side with Wraxall, surrounded by the assorted Goth chieftains, Beate turned towards Kara, an arrogant smile spread across her beautiful face.
“Enjoy this moment last moment of freedom, Kara,” hissed the muscular brunette, “for I intend to beat you to a pulp and then you will be my slave.”
Unperturbed by the brunette’s obvious confidence Kara smiled back at Beate.
“Don’t be too sure about that,” the blonde replied, “your boasting counts for nothing here. I promise you that the whole arena will hear your cries for mercy.”
Beate scowled back at Kara but had no chance to reply as they had reached the base of the tribune. Here both women saluted their chiefs and stood awaiting Alaric’s instructions. As they had drawn near Alaric had stood up to greet them, raising his right arm to command silence around the arena.
“Beate and Kara,” he said, as the arena fell silent, “you both know how the winner of this contest is to be decided. Are you both ready?” Both women nodded their assent as the crowd cheered their approval.
“Now when I lower my hand the fight will begin,” Alaric continued, “and may the mightiest warrior triumph.”
Both women turned to stand facing each other whilst the vast crowd gradually fell silent as they eagerly awaited the start of the contest. Alaric stood patiently, his hand raised, awaiting the right moment, then, sensing that the great wave of anticipation had reached it’s climax, his hand swept down in an arcing movement that signalled the beginning of the fight.

The Fight.

Both of the women moved at once, each beginning to circle the other as they cautiously sought an opening. It was Beate who made the first move. One moment the brunette was circling, edging slowly closer to Kara, the next Beate was flying through the air, propelled by her powerful legs straight at Kara. The blonde was taken by surprise at Beate’s incredible speed and crashed to the sandy arena floor under the impact of 180 lbs of solid muscle. Although jarred by her fall Kara summoned all of her strength and pushed Beate aside before the brunette could establish any hold on her. Both women rolled away from each other before regaining their feet. Beate was the first to stand upright and again immediately went onto the attack. The powerful brunette launched a kick that once again had Kara sprawling in the sand then threw herself on top of the blonde. Yet this time Kara was able to show her own speed as she rolled out from under Beate’s descending body forcing the brunette to crash to the ground.
Beate bellowed in frustration as the landing jolted her body, then Kara kicked her in the side with all of her strength. Beate grunted in pain and rolled away from the blonde before Kara could follow up. Once more the two women rose to their feet. This time the pair of them moved as one, meeting in the centre of the arena and locking together as each sought to establish a dominating hold over the other. This was a situation in which Beate was sure to prevail, the brunette’s thighs bulging as she powered Kara backwards with a demonstration of pure strength, yet neither woman had established a firm grip on the other and suddenly Kara twisted free of Beate’s grip.
For a moment Beate staggered forwards under her own momentum only to be brought up short as Kara’s fist smashed into the surprised brunette’s stomach with all of the blonde’s weight behind it.
“Oooof,” gasped Beate, instinctively doubling up as the blow forced the air from her lungs. Kara immediately grabbed Beate around the neck in a side head lock, painfully wrenched the brunette’s neck and then threw the big brunette over her hip. Beate fell flat on her back, her arms and legs splayed out, and again Kara was able to quickly follow up, this time by leaping into the air then crashing down on top of the brunette whilst driving her elbow into Beate’s throat. If the brunette had been confused before she was stunned now and gasping for her breath. Indeed, Beate was completely unable to resist as Kara neatly rolled her opponent over onto her stomach. The whole crowd gasped in amazement as Beate’s plight became apparent. In truth the Goth’s could hardly believe their eyes for now Kara quickly straddled the helpless Goth champion, sitting her firmly astride Beate’s back, then reaching forwards Kara cupped her hands beneath Beate’s chin. The blonde grinned wickedly from ear to ear as she yanked Beate’s head backwards bending the brunette’s spine back like a bow.
“Arrgh,” gurgled Beate, as the grinning Kara pulled back some more, then eased Beate’s pain slightly, before yanking the brunette’s head back once more.
Again Beate cried out in pain as Kara continued to increase the pressure. The crowd, who had initially been dumbstruck by this surprising turn of events, suddenly began to roar their approval. Even those who had confidently wagered gold on an easy victory for Beate joined in the general clamour for the crowd was truly witnessing the unthinkable, the mighty Beate was being forced to scream like a child by the smaller Kara. Beate may have been the Goth champion but her kinsmen appreciated a great fighter and Kara was proving to be all of that.
“Do you give, Goth,” asked Kara, the smiling blonde confident of success as she knew that it was impossible for anyone to withstand this level of pain for long.
Once more Kara wrenched Beate’s head backwards and once more Beate screamed in pain but this time the whole arena also heard the massively muscled brunette cry out, “Arrgh, yes, I give, please, I give.”
With a yell of triumph, Kara released her grip allowing Beate’s face to fall forwards onto the sand, then the blonde leaped to her feet, her arms raised high to accept the plaudits of the crowd. She had taken the first submission and the crowd roared their approval of this amazing turn of events.
Meanwhile Beate was furious. With a face like thunder the muscular brunette rolled over and slowly sat up shrugging off the residual pain from her recently tortured spine. For a moment she remained seated in the sand taking the opportunity to recuperate. Beate sat with her head down as she listened to the crowd saluting Kara’s achievement with a loud roar of acclaim. Her pride was badly damaged and the brunette was seething with indignation at the way in which Kara had succeeded in humiliating her. Never before had anyone seen her cry out in pain, she thought, even when she had been wounded in a skirmish with a group of Vandals. But now this blonde bitch had succeeded in making her look feeble in front of the whole of the Goth horde! Seething with anger, Beate decided that Kara would have to pay dearly for her impudence.
Slowly the applause and shouting began to die down and Kara ceased her triumphant parade and looked across to Beate who was slowly climbing to her feet. The blonde fully realised that in Beate she still had a skilled and dangerous opponent to fight and two more submissions to secure and Beate would obviously be out for revenge. There was still a long way to go before Kara could seize the victor’s laurels. Yet the blonde felt confident of success, after all she had won the first round and made Beate squeal for mercy.
Once again Alaric stood and raised his hand for silence. According to the custom that governed such contests he had judged that Beate had had enough time to recover and it was time to resume the contest. Alaric’s hand flashed down for the second time and again the two women cautiously approached one another.
This time Beate was less eager to join combat. The brunette could still feel the effects of Kara’s back-breaking hold and was moving a little stiffly. This was obvious to all, none more so that Kara who launched an immediate assault on the brunette, her fists swinging like hammers on the end of her long arms. Beate was able to block most of the blows, her speed returning as the adrenalin pumped through her veins. As Kara paused in her assault so Beate swung at the blonde with her right. Her fist connected with the side of Kara’s jaw with a crack that could be heard around the arena. The big blonde staggered backwards and shook her head as Beate suddenly launched herself at the blonde with a flying drop-kick that connected with Kara’s left shoulder sending the blonde crashing to the sand yet again. Unfortunately Beate was unable to capitalise on the move, her own landing had jolted her back, only recently bent so savagely by Kara, and the big brunette was herself groaning with pain as she slowly attempted to regain her feet.
Indeed both women struggled to stand upright and stood watching each other warily before recommencing hostilities.
It was Kara who moved first, charging forwards with both fists flailing but Beate calmly dropped onto one knee so that Kara fell forwards onto the brunette’s shoulder allowing Beate to jerk herself upwards and send the blonde somersaulting through the air to land on her back once more. This time Kara was winded by Beate’s surprise move and could do nothing to prevent the brunette following up by diving on top of the blonde and ramming her elbow into Kara’s abdomen. The blonde gasped for breath as Beate now rolled her over on to her stomach and planted her right foot in the small of the blond’s back. The brunette reached down and grabbed Kara’s wrists then pulled them backwards with as much force as she could muster arching the blonde’s back in her own punishing back-breaker hold.
“Now bitch,” growled the brunette, “it’s your turn to feel pain.” With a grin, Beate steadily increased the pressure on Kara’s spine and the blonde could do nothing else but bawl out her submission.
Beate shouted out in satisfaction and raised her arms to the crowd who responded with a roar of applause. The mighty Goth champion had levelled the contest. Walking around Kara’s prone body the Goth enjoyed the applause as she waited for the blonde to get to her feet. Meanwhile on the tribune Alaric smiled to himself in satisfaction, he had been surprised at the success of Kara in taking the first submission but now it looked a though Beate was back to her best.
Meanwhile Beate could hardly wait for Alaric’s signal to re-commence the competition. Having squared the match the brunette had fully regained her old confidence and was eager to resume. Beate was smiling a lot now, confident that her great strength would carry her to victory. Once again she flexed her big arms whilst at the same time standing up on her toes to accentuate her magnificent quads, both for the benefit of the crowd and in order to further intimidate Kara with her massive muscles.
Slowly the blonde began to struggle to her feet as Beate continued to display her body to the crowd. Meanwhile the Goths had begun to chant ‘Beate...Beate...,’ as they looked forward to the continuation of the contest.
With Kara standing upright, once again Alaric rose to his feet to signal the continuation of the contest. The eager Beate stood ready, barely able to contain her excitement, as the Goth king’s hand sliced downwards.
With a yell that echoed around the arena, Beate launched herself at Wraxall’s champion. The Goth’s powerful thighs propelled her like an arrow as Beate smashed into Kara with her shoulder sending the blonde crashing to the sandy floor. Beate rolled aside and sprang to her feet as Kara began to do likewise. The blonde was still on one knee as Beate kicked her savagely in the chest, sending Kara crashing back to the arena floor once more. Without hesitating the big brunette followed up by jumping into the air, then dropping across Kara’s belly, driving the air from the blonde’s lungs. Without hesitation Beate wrapped her legs around Kara’s waist. With a smirk of triumph playing on her lips the muscular brunette locked her ankles together and instantly began to apply pressure to Kara’s waist. Her massive thighs began to bulge as she exerted all of her strength outlining the superb quads for which she was justly famous. Grimacing with effort, Beate appeared to be attempting to cut Kara in two, alternately squeezing, then jolting, the helpless blonde up and down. As the crowd could see, the blonde was completely powerless to resist Beate’s phenomenal power, as the massively powerful brunette steadily crushed her opponent between her awesome thighs.
“Give slut, or die,” growled Beate through clenched teeth, as she relaxed her grip slightly, jolted Kara up and down, then resumed the awesome pressure. Kara could hardly hear the words, the blood was pounding in the blonde’s ears and she was close to passing out, but with a last feeble effort Kara tapped the sandy arena floor to signal her submission.
“Yes,” yelled Beate, as she punched the air in satisfaction, then released her opponent from the deadly scissors and disdainfully rolled the semi-comatose Kara to one side. The muscular brunette then leaped to her feet and raised her arms above her head in triumph. The Goths roared their approval as Beate had now moved one submission ahead in the contest and few would have bet against her finishing the job in the next session. The crowd rose to their feet and cheered the big Goth as she flexed her huge biceps and once again paraded triumphantly around Kara who lay motionless on the sand. Now the crowd began to repeat their familiar chants of “Beate... Beate...,” and the favourite Goth war cries, for this was the type of action that they had come to expect of their great champion.
Beate continued to parade herself around the arena as Alaric once again waited for Kara to show signs of being able to continue the contest. In truth custom allowed that he could have declared the contest forfeit in favour of Beate, but Alaric was intelligent enough to realise that this would have been insulting to Wraxall and the Vandal chieftains so Kara, their favourite warrior, would have to continue against Beate come what may.
However Alaric did allow Kara more time to recover than was usual as he dismissed the jeers of the Goths who considered the contest at an end.
Kara rose unsteadily to her feet as the crowd in the arena began to scream abuse and jeer at her. Meanwhile Beate stood to one side smiling confidently to herself for she could see that Kara could hardly stand up straight.
The huge Goth fully understood that she had the opportunity to finish the blonde quickly if she so desired yet Beate had not forgotten the blonde’s audacity in taking the first submission and inflicting a serious blemish to the big brunette’s image of invincibility. Now Beate was licking her lips in anticipation for the brunette was confident of victory and the muscular Goth champion intended to repay Kara with interest for her earlier humiliation.
Meanwhile Alaric waited for Kara to turn and face Beate before he again dropped his hand marking the resumption of the contest.
Kara was moving slowly around the arena as if in a daze as Alaric gave the signal. Such was her condition that the blonde probably never even saw Beate as the big brunette flew through the air with a perfectly aimed flying drop-kick. But Kara certainly felt the brunette’s not inconsiderable weight smash into her throwing her backwards into the sand from which she had only just arisen. The next thing the blonde knew she was being dragged to her feet by her hair and then Beate threw her arms around her and pulled the Vandal in close and tight to her. The blonde’s arms were pinned firmly to her sides and she hung there, totally helpless in Beate’s grip of iron. Kara gasped desperately for breath as Beate tightened her grip. The brunette’s mouth was close to Kara’s ear and the blonde could feel Beate’s breath against it, hot and insistent.
‘Submit to me bitch,’ snarled the Goth, ‘admit it, you’re no match for me.’
Beate increased the pressure still more but Kara was determined to hang on. With mounting frustration Beate increased the pressure but still Kara would not submit. Eventually Beate tired of the attempt and decided to adopt a different tack. Slackening her grip the mighty brunette allowed Kara, first to slip towards the ground, then in a striking display of her great strength Beate effortlessly slung the blonde’s body across her shoulders and spun her around a couple of times before casually tossing her to the ground. As Kara hit the sand Beate glanced arrogantly at her rival then turned to the crowd and raised her mighty arms, flexing her biceps in a gesture of triumph. The big brunette considered that the blonde was utterly finished and now Beate was ready to deliver the final humiliation and receive the plaudits of the crowd.
Yet Kara was about to show that she was made of sterner stuff than anyone had imagined, least of all Beate. Despite the thrashing she had just received the blonde was still not whipped and, though hurting, was not yet ready to finally succumb to the big Goth’s strength.
As Beate arrogantly continued to play to the crowd she stepped ever closer to Kara, intent on delivering the final blow. The blonde lay supine, her body wracked with pain, yet Kara still had fight in her, She lay perfectly still until she sensed the brunette step within range and, seizing her chance, Kara desperately swung her legs around catching Beate off-balance. With a gasp of surprise the big brunette crashed backwards onto the sandy floor of the arena. Immediately she started to sit up but before the shocked Beate had much chance to remedy the situation Kara lashed out again with her right foot and caught the brunette full on the side of the head with enough force to make the big Goth fall back to the sandy floor whilst seeing stars before her eyes.
Once again the crowd roared their encouragement as the tide suddenly turned once more in Kara’s favour and the blonde didn’t let them down. Remembering how Beate had used her mighty thighs to crush the last submission out of her, the grinning Kara quickly slipped between the dazed Goth’s legs once again, but this time on her own terms. Firmly gripping Beate’s left leg at the knee between her own muscular legs, Kara then grabbed hold of the brunette’s right leg and began to spread Beate’s supposedly invincible thighs wide apart in an excruciating leg split which brought tears to the eyes of more than one of the onlookers.
So now, once more to the amazement of the Goths, the mighty Beate was heard to cry out in agony as Kara appeared to attempt to split her opponent in two at the crotch. The crowd again roared their no-holds-barred encouragement for the blonde for they fully appreciated the irony of the situation. Only moments before Beate’s muscular thighs had appeared so strong and lethal, capable of totally destroying her opponent with that brutal scissors hold. Yet now here was Kara spreading those same strapping thighs wide apart with apparent ease and savagely torturing the boastful Goth champion into the bargain.
As for Beate, she was still partially stunned from the kick to her head and the big brunette could do nothing to counter Kara’s ferocious move. She cried out in pain once more as she desperately tried to think of some way out of her predicament but for a second time that morning there was simply nothing that the reputedly stronger woman could do to save herself.
With a grin spreading across her lovely face Kara increased the pressure on Beate even more. The blonde could see with some satisfaction that Beate’s face was now contorted in agony, in total contrast to the arrogant smirk of the victor that it had worn just a few moments before. The crowd fully appreciated this as well and they continued to howl their encouragement, as, for the second time that morning the mighty Beate was forced to capitulate to her blonde opponent with a pitiful scream of, “I give.”
With a yell of triumph, Kara released Beate and for a second time the blonde raised her arms to receive the plaudits of the Goth warriors. She had good reason to be happy for her opportunism had paid off and levelled the score thus saving the contest.
Meanwhile Beate rolled over on the sand still moaning with pain as she rubbed furiously at her aching crotch. Once again the brunette was furious with herself, it was bad enough that Kara had levelled the score, but she had once again humiliated the mighty Goth champion in the way in which she had done it. And this time Beate’s crotch was still on fire with pain.

4. The final move.

Alaric looked on in surprise as Kara continued to celebrate by strutting around the arena, her arms held aloft in triumph, whilst Beate stayed slumped on the sand. The Goth leader could see that Beate appeared to be in serious trouble and was taking her time to get to her feet. He could well imagine that the brunette was in considerable pain yet he could give her little time to recover. Whereas he had allowed Kara a little extra time for recovery as a sop to Wraxall’s pride he could not offer the same assistance to his own champion or else be accused of favouring Beate by the Vandals. Alaric decided that Beate would have to continue right now or forfeit the contest.
So, as the Goth champion slowly climbed to her feet, Alaric waved his arm signalling the start of the final phase of the contest.
Kara did not hesitate. The blonde launched herself at Beate and threw a series of awesome punches to the Goth’s head and chest. The brunette attempted to ward off Kara’s fists as best she could but the brunette was still in considerable pain from Kara’s brutal stretching and several blows struck home rocking the muscular brunette to the core.
For a moment Kara stepped backwards and paused for breath before continuing her assault and Beate immediately attempted to go onto the attack, the powerful brunette lunging forwards and trying to get a hold on Kara where her greater strength would count in her favour. But now Kara was moving faster and she neatly side-stepped the brunette, driving her right fist into Beate’s side as she did so. Beate howled in pain and staggered sideways as the blow jarred right through the muscle to her kidney whilst her tormentor immediately struck again with a kick to the back of Beate’s left knee that sent the brunette sprawling onto her knees in the sand.
Beate slowly struggled to her knees as Kara watched, the blonde grinning in amusement. The mighty Beate didn’t look so mighty now, she thought as she moved in for the kill. Kara stood in front of Beate, the broad grin still plastered all over her face, and raised her arms, her fists inter-locked, in order to deliver the killer blow.
At that moment Beate opened her eyes and found herself staring straight at Kara’s cunt. For a brief moment time seemed to have stopped for the Goth champion, Kara stood before her on the point of victory and Beate had only one chance. She didn’t have time to take much of a swing at her opponent, but the brunette drove her fist up into Kara’s cunt with all of her remaining strength. The effect was all that Beate could have hoped, the blonde’s mouth fell wide open but Kara made no sound at all as she slowly sank to her knees. The crowd fell into a stunned silence at this latest development, and watched as the two women knelt face to face in the sand, both women almost totally destroyed by their fierce contest.
Suddenly Beate moved. Before Kara had a chance to react the brunette clamped both of her hands onto the blonde’s shoulders and head-butted her. Kara’s whole body seemed to shudder with the force of the blow, the blonde saw stars of all colours as her head seemed to spin around with ever-increasing speed. Slowly Kara slumped down onto the sandy floor, completely unconscious.
With a sigh of relief, Beate thrust her head back and took a deep breath. Slowly the brunette got to her feet and looked up to the tribune, then down at the prone body of her opponent. It was obvious to all that Kara would be unable to continue, indeed many thought the blonde dead. Alaric conferred briefly with Wraxall then rose to his feet.
“With Kara unable to continue,” he declared, “Beate is the victor, the contest is over.’
The arena filled with applause as Beate raised her tired arms and acknowledged the roar of the crowd with more than a little relief. Kara had taken her to the absolute limit and the brunette knew that the Vandal could well have won the contest. Walking slowly towards the tribune, the brunette bowed towards both Alaric and Wraxall.
“My lord Alaric,” she exclaimed, “I have won the contest according to your rules. I want all to know that is enough of a prize. Kara fought well, she should never be a slave, nor would I want her as mine even just for a year. The lord Wraxall can make far better use of such a warrior.”
The whole arena erupted in cheers at this statement. Wraxall smiled broadly and nodded his appreciation of Beate’s speech whilst Alaric quietly acknowledged the brunette’s magnanimous gesture. After all he couldn’t have asked Beate to do any better for the common cause.

Later.

Later that evening Beate reclined, completely naked, on a couch as a servant girl massaged a soothing oil into her bruised flesh. A large beaker of wine stood on a table close to one side. Beate had already drained it once and was enjoying the sense of relaxation caused by the alcohol flowing through her body and the young girl’s skilful fingers as she revived Beate’s tortured body. Beate once again reflected that Kara had taken her to her absolute limits and a little ill-luck could have turned the result of the contest against her. Kara might have proved a less generous victor than her and Beate might now have been toiling as a slave in the Vandal encampment.
Suddenly Beate was aware of someone else in the room. She looked up to see Alaric standing watching as the servant girl massaged Beate’s big muscles. Beate made no attempt to cover herself. She allowed Alaric to feast his eyes upon her nakedness for a moment before speaking.
“Welcome my lord,” she said, with a smile, “and how may I be of service to you?”
Alaric signalled to the servant girl to leave them alone, then crossed the room and sat on the edge of the couch.
“You have done me enough service today,” he said, with a smile on his lips, “your gesture in releasing Kara was well accepted by Wraxall. He will be a good ally for us in the days to come.” Alaric picked up the jar of oil, dripping some of the contents onto his fingers. He then took over where the servant had left off, gently massaging the oil into Beate’s bruises.
“Mind you,” he continued, “ you gave me cause to worry for your safety. At one stage I thought Kara had the beating of you.”
“But you thought wrong then,” replied Beate, “and still no one has beaten me yet in any form of combat. Kara was good but I was stronger, in the end my muscles didn’t let me down.”
“True, you prevailed in the end,” Alaric responded, “but at one stage I thought she meant to split you in two.” He rested his hand gently upon Beate’s sex.
“I trust that she hasn’t damaged you too severely,” he continued as he began to gently massage Beate’s mound.
“Mmmm, I think everything’s alright,” replied Beate with a smile, “but I can think of a further, deeper, type of treatment, can’t you?”
With that she reached up and placed a hand on the back of Alaric’s neck and then drew his mouth down on top of hers.They kissed for a long time, then Alaric slipped out of his robe and joined his bruised yet beautiful champion on the couch. They spent the rest of the night in each other’s arms making love repeatedly, in between bouts of sleep, until the dawn broke and another day began for the barbarian warriors.