RELUCTANT GLADIATOR - Part Twenty A story by Pete Brown (petebrownuk @ yahoo.com)
Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
The "ready room" was at the far end of the passageway that the gladiators took to enter the arena. You assembled there before a fight, and after your bout you went back there. A paramedic was available to do some "repair work" - a few stitches, or dish out plasters, or whatever, and there were showers so you could clean off the blood, sweat and gore, and get the oil off your skin before getting a clean uniform. You generally went in there feeling pretty grim, even if you'd won, and it helped to be able to shower and then sit there for a bit before going back to the school proper, or out onto the bus for a journey back. Ever mindful of the fact that we were all hyped up with testosterone and could still potentially fight, even after the hardest bout, the room was actually divided down the middle by a set of bars, so that the "home" and "visitors" gladiators could be kept separate - when you came down the passage from the arena, it was kind of traditional to shake hands with your opponent before you went through separate doors into your own half of the room.
Mike and the nigga had evidently done this, and, as I've told you, they left the arena as amicably as two guys can who've just a few minutes before have been beating the shit out of each other - Mike had helped the nigga to his feet, and they'd left it with Mike helping the guy with an arm around his shoulders. But as I got closer I realised that something must have happened as I could hear Mike shouting and raging about the nigga, and niggas in general. The guard let me in, even though I hadn't been fighting that night, and I saw a scene of some confusion on our side of the bars - a couple of our guys were on the floor, looking as if they'd been knocked there, three of the others were sitting against the far wall, clearly not wanting to become involved, and Darren was standing there pulling at Mike's right arm, risking injury, I reckon, as he tried to pull Mike away from the bars.
Mike had his left arm, his best fighting one, through the bars and was trying to grab the nigga, his opponent. The nigga must have made quite a recovery, as what was enraging Mike was the fact that the guy was fucking the young whitey I'd met in the mess room earlier. One of the other niggas was on his hands and knees, the kid was lying over his back, and Mike's opponent was kneeling there and spectacularly fucking the kid. In spite of what he'd told me about getting fucked all the time, the kid was clearly in distress as he was screaming and crying as the huge nigga pounded his dick in and out of him with a whole lot of force - this wasn't two guys "making love", or having sex for fun: this was a big buck nigga simply raping a poor young kid.
I pulled Darren away from Mike, as I wanted to avoid any more of us getting hit. Then I tried to calm Mike, tried to get him away from the bars, as I knew that if Jason or Straughan came in they'd know that Mike needed punishment - even allowing for what the nigga was doing to the kid, it wasn't ever acceptable for us gladiators to fight each other, and clearly Mike had floored a couple of us as they tried to restrain him.
Mike had no hope of getting to the nigga, of course - that was what the bars were for - but Mike stood there challenging the nigga to leave the kid alone and come and try to take a real man! The nigga carried on fucking away - even if he was listening to Mike, he clearly didn't care. And perhaps he really couldn't hear what Mike was complaining about, even though the noise was considerable, as he was so intent on what he was doing - you know how it is when you're screwing, as that becomes the total focus of all your senses.
The nigga gave a great cry, and we saw him thrust convulsively forwards into the kid for one last time, as if his body wanted to ensure that, as his dick shot, every last millimetre of it was inside the kid. Then, slowly, he pulled out, turned around, and we saw him laughing. "That's what a man needs after a fight, a good fuck!", the told his companions. Then moving towards the bars, but keeping far enough away from them to avoid Mike's arm, he stood there, scratched his dick kind of arrogantly, and said "Is there a problem, whitey?"
"Stop raping that kid! We don't do that here!"
"Listen, whitey, it's not rape. And mind your own fucking business. This is our fuck toy. Our school gives him to us to help relieve the tension after a match - and judging by the way that dick of yours is boned up, I reckon you need a toy yourself." He began to laugh, grabbed at the kid who was lying there on the naked back of the crouching nigga, and hauled him to his feet. He dragged the kid over towards the bars - not a difficult thing to do, as he was a big powerful guy and the kid was nowhere near developed - turned the kid so his back was to the bars then pushed him hard up against them. "There you are", he told Mike. "Read for action. Just push that dick of yours through the bars, instead of wasting your time trying to grab me, and you can be right up this toy's ass - he's nicely 'open' after experiencing me, and he's properly slicked up with my cum." As he said this , his other hand reached up between the kid's legs, then he pulled his hand away and showed us it glistening with cum. "See, I shot so much, that leaking out. So he's all primed and ready...."
"Fuck you....", Mike was screaming now. "Fucking pervert, raping a kid...."
"Hey, whitey, you don't know what you're missing. Young white ass, it's a real treat. But not as good as white ass like yours, I reckon - the next time we fight, I reckon I'll win and I'll fuck you, right out there in the arena..."
I pulled at Mike, then grabbed him around the throat in a wrestling hold - he had been too intent on shouting at the nigga to stop me, and he was too weakened by his bout to really resist me now. So I managed to drag him away, and then as he struggled to get back, I put my leg behind him and pushed, to send him sprawling on the floor. I threw myself down on top of him and pinioned him there - not something I could easily do normally, but, as I said, the bout had taken its toll on his strength. "Stop it, Mike", I shouted.
"Let me go, Steve..."
"Mike, calm yourself.... Jason or Straughan will come in, and if he finds you've been fighting our own men..."
"I wasn't...."
"Look at them, Mike! You hit them, didn't you, when they tried to stop you?"
"It's OK, Steve", one of the other gladiators said, getting to his feet and helping his companion to do the same. "When we came in the poor kid over there was being fucked by three of them - one with his dick down the kid's throat, one up his ass, and the third pushing his dick in beside his buddy's - really forcing the kid open.... Mike was trying to stop them, and he didn't know what he was doing...."
"Yes", the other one added. "It's not serious. We're not hurt. We should have known better than to try to tackle Mike when he was in a rage. It's our own fault...."
"OK", I almost shouted at them. "Go and sit down, and look as if nothing's happened." Then I tightened my grip around Mike's throat. "And you, Mike, calm down!"
I cold feel his body thrashing around in spite of my hold on him, and he was seething with fury. "The kid..."
"You can't stop that. It's on the other side of the bars. And that's what the kid is there for - he told me that at their school the owner believes in letting the gladiators have sex as soon as their bout is over."
"It's not right, Steve, a young white kid like that, and those huge niggas...."
"Calm down! OK? Now, calm yourself. There's nothing you can do about it. That's the way that school runs things - the kid is there to satisfy the gladiators."
"It's not right, Steve! They could have given them a bitch... And a nigga bitch, at that."
"Mike, stop it! And listen to yourself - you're sounding like a fucking racist! Look, I expect there are good reasons for not using a bitch - I mean, we're all guys in here, showering and everything. And on the bus, when we go to away matches, it can be pretty crowded and us guys have to squash together. It's not right to have a bitch in amongst all us naked guys, and we're all pressed close together on the bus, you know that.
"But the nigga's fucking him! Listen to how he was screaming."
As I continued to hold him I thought Mike was claming down, but then the nigga picked up the boy and carried him over to one of his buddies - it was fairly easy, obviously, as the kid was pretty light and skinny. The two niggas spoke for a moment and laughed, then the one who had been standing there started to stroke his dick, pointing it at us as we watched through the bars so there could be no doubt about what he was doing. He had a big dick - all of the niggas did, and I couldn't help wondering if those gladiators were chosen specially for that reason, as in spite of what popular myth says, not all niggas are heroically hung. "Our" nigga then almost threw the kid at him, he caught him and picked him up to hold him in the air - we could see the nigga's muscles in his arms and belly straining a bit, but it looked easy enough. Then he lowered the kid, down onto his dick!
The kid squealed a bit as the nigga entered him, then wrapped his thin white legs around the nigga's waist and sort of sat there, wrapping his arms around the nigga's neck to make it more comfortable for himself. All the niggas were watching now and beginning to laugh, and the one with the kid impaled n his cock said something to the kid, who then began to haul himself up by his arms, and then to lower himself down again onto the nigga! I was so amazed to see this that I forgot I was holding Mike in a grip, and the next moment he was free and was once more throwing himself against the bars in fury.
The niggas were all laughing at him, and the lead one called out "This whitey sure does like nigga dick! Do you want some too?"
I reckon we were lucky to get away with it - Jason came in at that moment, and all he saw was Mike at the bars, and not any of the previous mayhem. Even so he wasn't very happy about all the noise and disturbance, and ordered us all out of the ready room and back towards the main building and our rooms. Later, when we were back in our room, Mike lay there tossing and turning, totally unable to sleep. Finally I lost it, and leaned over and said "For fuck's sake, jerk off or something, and get to sleep! You're stopping me, and I haven't been lying around all day preparing, like you - I've been training hard."
"Shut the fuck up!", he snapped back at me, as he usually does if he hears even a hint of criticism. "It's OK for you, you weren't out there naked, fighting that fucking nigga... If I'd known what he was going to do to that kid, I'd have torn his balls off when I had him pinned down at the end. That's what he deserves - castration. And I'd be glad to do it..."
"Oh for fuck's sake, you're not still on about those niggas and the whitey, are you?"
"Yes I am! It's not right, Steve..."
"What's not right?"
"Do you want me to sort you out? I could, you know, even though I've been fighting today! If you can't see what was wrong, you must be a sick pervert, and...."
"Shut up, Mike! And don't try anything physical - I can almost take you when you're on top of your form, and tonight I reckon I'd easily win. So start using your brain, instead of your thick muscles! All I was asking is what you thought wasn't right, because you've got me confused...."
"It's obvious! You saw it..."
"I saw a guy fucking another guy. Is that what you don't like? You don't object when Darren and Jamie do it."
"That's different..."
"How so? Because they're both white? Didn't you like a nigga fucking a whitey? Are you a racist?"
"No..."
"...so is it an older guy with a younger one? Lots of younger and older guys get on together, you know, as they find the dad and son thing turns them on. Or was it a big, strong guy with a small, skinny one? The boy will grow, you know...."
"You're making out it's OK, Steve! That's sick!"
"No, Mike. I simply want you to be clear about what it is you were objecting to, especially when it was none of your business."
Mike was silent for a moment, then he sounded almost angry. "It was one guy forcing another, Steve. Forcing the kid to take dick like that..."
"You thought I was protesting too much when Jason raped me - you told me to stop making such a fuss about it as it was, and here I think I'm quoting you exactly, 'only a dick up an ass hole'. So it's OK for Jason to fuck me against my will, but not the nigga and the kid? He was over sixteen, you know - he told us over dinner. And he'd have to be, wouldn't he, as he's a slave? So there's no problem there."
"You're twisting it all around, Steve, confusing me...."
"Listen, Mike, I'm trying to help you. You've got to control your temper and not fly off the rails about stuff you can't change. Sure, a big, strong, older guy forced his dick into a small young guy. But they were both men... No, that's where the error lies: if they were both men and the kid didn't like it, the nigga would have been totally wrong. But they're not both men - they're both slaves. And I would remind you that the school's owner bought the kid specially for the niggas to fuck, as a kind of reward, or as a relaxation, or whatever, after fighting in the arena. So it's not up to him - he's a slave. So if his owner wants him to be a fuck toy for the gladiators, that's what he is - and you're not helping him at all by all that display of outrage. He's a slave, a slave with a defined role, and the sooner he learns to accept it the better."
"It can't be right...."
"Right or not, it's the way society works. He's over sixteen and was enslaved. He was bought, and his owner who assigned him work. Anyway, you're a hypocrite, Mike - when you're fucking you don't take any notice of your partner."
"I don't fuck guys! You know that. I'm not a fag."
"The bitches, Mike. Think about them - especially the young slim ones, that you seem to favour. What's the difference between older, big, strong, tough Mike forcing his way into one of those young, slim bitches, and that nigga and the kid? Not a lot, I reckon."
"It's different. Of course it is."
"How so? You tell me, Mike! I've heard some of the bitches crying and screaming, especially when you've been desperate for it and have slammed straight in. Are you saying they all enjoyed it, they all wanted your dick in them?"
"It's normal... A guy has needs.... And a bitch is there to service them...."
"Mike, how about the bitch's needs? Think about that training you hated... I could turn your last sentence around and say 'A rich bitch has needs. And a gladiator is there to service them...'. You don't go big on that, do you?" I paused, and I knew I'd won - well, won the argument, anyway. Mike's a great guy as I've told you - brave, determined, and loyal to his buddies: great to be with, and someone you value. But he's not the sharpest needle in the pack, and now I felt a bit guilty about leading him on, and making him feel inadequate. "Listen", I said quietly, soothingly, "We're slaves. So at the end of the day the choice isn't ours - it's our owners'. So whether you fuck a bitch in here, or are made to service some old hag, or if that kid gets fucked by a nigga, or whatever, then it's not our problem. We have no choice, and it's the owners' responsibility."
"I suppose so..."
"You don't sound very sure. And I think you're still worrying about it. So another trick is to think of the very worse that can happen - if you can think bout that, and see it's not really so bad, you might feel better. So let's suppose Straughan or Jason makes you fuck a guy - could you do it? And how bad would it be?"
"I don't want to, I'm not a fag...."
"What you want is not the issue though, is it? You're a slave, and are ordered to do it. Could you do it?"
"Well, I suppose so.... If I was hard, I could fuck them. I've taken enough bitches up the ass, so a guy can't be all that different."
"So there you are, Mike. Stop worrying about it. It's not your responsibility, whatever happens. And, thinking about it, that's one of the benefits of being a slave, isn't it? I can just lie here and not be responsible for anything - not for earning enough, or worrying about paying bills, or chasing a woman, or whatever. Some guys would envy us, you know."
I thought that would be that, and at last we could get some sleep. Mike was indeed quiet for a couple of minutes. But then he said, very quietly and hesitantly "You don't think that Jason will get Straughan to think that we ought to fuck guys, do you?"
"I don't know, Mike. But there's nothing we can do about it, is there?"
He was quiet for a couple of minutes more, then was almost whispering as he added "...or maybe that guys could pay to fuck us?"
"Get to sleep, Mike!". I didn't know what else to say, because, for once, Mike had hit on something that had been worrying me a bit as well.
My own first naked fight came up the next week, and I was going to do it "away". I was glad about that, actually, as it meant that I didn't have to fight naked in front of all the other gladiators I knew. It may sound silly, I know, as they'd all seen me naked hundreds of times in the showers and at the pool. But there's a difference between that, where you're all naked together and it's "normal", and having to "perform" when you're the only guy in the nude (apart from your opponent, that is!). There's a thing, too, about your "peers", as the gladiators were, even though many of them had different skills and didn't practice as "bruisers": I reckon most guys can do a whole lot of things if they're left to get on with it, but if they know that their peers are going to observe and evaluate them, it makes it all that much more difficult.
I got on to the bus in my normal uniform, like all the other gladiators who were going to fight, and in amongst them was Jamie. He came and sat next to me, and as Straughan always economises on these things and only hires a small bus, we were squeezed up very close together with our bodies and thighs rubbing. Jamie had certainly come on since he arrived there, and he was now a proper man and no longer by any stretch of the imagination a "youth". He'd moved up in the hierarchy a bit, too, and his speciality was bare-knuckle boxing: that's banned for free men of course, who if they want to box must wear gloves as it's generally thought to be too violent and bloody - just the thing for the audience, of course. It was hot, and soon all of us were sweating, and as the bus lurched around our bodies rubbed against each other and it was particularly noticeable where our hairy thighs kept moving against each other.
"Not much longer for this", Jamie told me after a time. "Jason has decided that all us boxers and wrestlers should be body shaved, totally. He reckons the punters really want to see our muscles, and that hair is a bit of a distraction."
"I think he's wrong. I think the punters want gladiators who look like men, real men. Men with a bit of hair. So OK, trim the pubes for the uniform, and shave our balls when we're naked gladiators, but it's stupid to totally shave everyone."
"Darren hates the idea. And so do I. Never mind what the punters want, I like a man to have a bit of hair: it makes it so much better when you're feeling them and stroking them in bed! I reckon we won't have nearly as much fun when we're shaved."
"So you and Darren are still going at it, then?"
"Oh come on, Steve! You know we are. If we weren't in this place, weren't slaves, Darren and I would get married...."
"Hey, that sounds serious."
"It is, Steve. I can't imagine living without Darren."
"But didn't I see you with your arm around one of the new recruits the other day?"
Jamie grinned. "Sure. You've got to remember that Darren and I are young guys, virile, at the height of our powers - not like you old guys. So we need a bit of variety, a bit of fun every now and then. But it doesn't mean anything - it's not serious, it's only a fuck. And Darren and me do it together, of course - there's no way Darren or me would go off and fuck another guy secretly." He leaned closer to me and nudged me in the ribs, as one guy to another about to share a secret. "You and Mike ought to try it - get another guy in. There'd be no shortage of takers, you know: half the guys here would love to have you and Mike in bed with them. I can give you a few tips, too - you don't want to bother with all that spit-roasting stuff, as that's for the amateurs. No, the way to get really close to Mike is to get him to fuck the other guy, then when he's really right in, you go in too. Two dicks in the same ass - it's fantastic! I feel really close to Darren whenever we do it - having your dick pressed close to your partner's by the same ass hole is absolutely the best thing I can think of, I can tell you."
I really didn't like hearing sex tips from Jamie. So I muttered something about "Mike and me, we don't do gay stuff."
"Oh, come on, Steve! I was there, when I first came here: you and Mike jerk each other off."
"That's not really gay, is it? That's just two guys varying the way they masturbate."
Jamie laughed. "Well you stick to your story! Most guys would think it was gay."
I wanted to get off this subject, and I was worried about Jamie, especially as I knew he'd be out of the school in a few months as soon as I was free and he'd have to give up Darren. So I looked at him and lowered my voice, to sound serious. "I don't want to worry you, Jamie, but I reckon it's not good for a gladiator to form close relationships, as you and Darren have. One of you might get seriously injured and be 'retired'. Or Straughan might get a good offer for one of you, and sell you, or...."
"Don't, Steve!" Jamie's mood had changed instantly. "Don't talk about stuff like that. Darren and I try not to even think about it."
"You've got to face up to reality, Jamie."
"You think this is real? All this fighting stuff, gladiators.... No, Steve, reality is outside here, the world of free men. We can't 'face reality' as we're living in a totally unreal place..."
"I meant that you've got to face up to the reality of slavery, Jamie! That's real enough. That's what got both of us here, and Darren. And that's what is going to pull you apart, sooner or later."
I was of course trying to prepare Jamie for the fact that I was going to take him away, something I had not told him about as I had not wanted to get his hopes up. After all, had I failed to win enough, I wouldn't be able to buy him.
"Steve, I don't want to talk about it. I don't even want to think about it. I couldn't bear it if Darren and me were not together...."
I didn't know what to say any more. I thought about telling Jamie of m plans, but, frankly, I chickened out. But I was saved by our arrival at the school we were to be fighting at that night.
In their "ready room" I had to drop my uniform and stand there amongst the other gladiators totally naked (as did Jamie). The idea was that the public would really want to see my body entirely "au naturel", and that the presence of marks where the elastic waistband of my uniform had pressed into my skin would be a distraction.
That night there was a variation in the pattern of fights - it had been decided (we had no choice, obviously) that all the "clothed" bouts would take place first, then Jamie would fight, and finally I would round off the entire show. So Jamie and I had quite a long time to sit in the ready room and talk - but I still couldn't bring myself to tell him of my plan to rescue him by buying him from Straughan in just a few months. We were distracted though by the roaring of the crowd - we could hear it filtering through the air vents into our otherwise totally enclosed space, and we agreed that they sounded really vicious, judging by the way there were great shouts and stamping when, presumably, a gladiator was struck particularly hard. Our companions went out and came back in turn, and they all agreed it was a tough time as this school had some really good "home" guys, and so when it was Jamie's turn I gave him a hug to encourage him - it was odd, really, as somehow having our dicks rub together as we embraced as only two strong men can did not seem in any way strange. But then, just as he was leaving, one of the "locals" came in - he must have been one of their very junior trainees, just on sixteen, as he still had that very youthful appearance that boys of that age have, especially when, like him, he was totally shaved all over as we could see because he was naked, like us. He handed Jamie a pair of white shorts - those silky ones, like you see boxers wearing: very loose as in the boxing ring they are designed to cover a jockstrap and protector, although we didn't have that. Jamie seemed really relieved to pull them on, and "settled" himself into them, and the boy led him out - I could see the outline of Jamie's muscular butt and his ass crack quite clearly through the silky material, but it was I suppose better than being totally naked. I wondered why the plan had changed.
There was an awful lot of crowd noise as the fight went on, so we knew that Jamie and the home guy must be having an epic battle, and my fellow gladiators sat there listening, kind of slumped, probably thinking about what they'd been through. Fortunately none of them had been seriously injured, but there was the normal heavy bruising, a lot of muscle strain, and a couple of them had some difficulty staunching bloody noses. But then you expect that.
We knew Jamie's bout must be over from the sheer crescendo of crowd noise, and at that point another of the naked boys came in and handed me a pair of the silky white shorts. I was so grateful for them as I'd been dreading having to appear nude, and even though they didn't give me any support like our normal uniforms did, I was prepared to put up with my dick and balls flopping around in return for the cover they provided. The boy led me out, and as we were going along the corridor towards the arena entrance he looked really unhappy. We were stopped at the gates by a guard, and I saw he was almost trembling with fear, so I asked him what was wrong.
"It's my first time, sir." I guessed that he must be very recently enslaved as no gladiator calls another gladiator "sir", and this must be a hangover from his previous life where I supposed he'd been taught by his parents to call all older men "sir" as a mark of respect.
"First time?", I queried.
"Yes, sir. I've never been in the arena before in front of the crowds. And look at me - it makes me feel as if I'm about twelve again now they've shaved me. I don't think it's right that they humiliate a guy by taking his manhood like this, and then forcing me to prance around and display my tackle like I'll have to...."
"You're going into the arena? You're not fighting me, surely!"
"No, sir, I'm..." At that moment the door into the arena swung open, and the guard snapped at the kid to get out there. He half ran, half "skipped" - that's the only word I can use, I suppose: enthusiastic, high-stepping. I could imagine how his dick must be bounding up and down as he made his way into the centre of the arena, accompanied by cheering and clapping from the crowd.
"OK, you now", the guard told me. "Strut out there, pose a bit to show them your physique, and wait by the kid for our guy to join you."
I wasn't worried about going out there as I know I've got a good chance in a fight, and now I was comfortably covered by the silky shorts it felt like a normal match - my heart was racing, but this was more from the excitement of combat than from fear of exposure. So as I walked out I posed and flexed a bit, and got a lot of approving cheers from the crowd - I began to feel quite good. I stopped by the kid in the centre, and he didn't seem to be enjoying it quite as much as he was blushing deep red all over, and his dick, which had been proportionately long when I'd first seen him as a lot of young guys' dicks do, had shrivelled up a bit, probably adding to his embarrassment.
We stood there, but then there was a huge explosion of noise as the opposite gates opened and the home champion came out - like me he was in white shorts, and as he strode across the arena towards us I could see he was much the same build and height as me, and I knew we were probably going to be evenly matched and have a good fight. He stopped by us, and the crowd fell silent. He was glaring at me, then snapped at the kid "OK, get on with it"
The kid knelt there in front of both of us, then reached up at me, got his hands on the waistband of my shorts, and pulled them down! I was so surprised that I didn't react and couldn't prevent them falling, and I felt the silky material lying across the top of my feet. The kid then did the same then to the home guy, so all three of us were then naked there - the contrast between the two of us fighters and the kid was of course dramatic: we were deeply tanned, big, hairy, and muscular, and he was young, slim, shaved to look even younger than he was, and was still quite pale as presumably this school did not expose its fighters out by a pool, as happened at Philips' Fighters.
If going out into the arena naked was humiliating, being stripped like that in front of about a thousand spectators was, if anything, even more so. I could feel my shoulders and throat turning red under my tan as I started to blush, but then I saw my opponent begin to move and realised the bout was about to begin, in the traditional manner with the two of us facing each section of the crowd in turn and "presenting" ourselves to them. I knew I had to do it or else they'd think I was a coward, but I hated the thought of all those eyes looking at me - and, of course, there was the constant flashing of cameras, and I couldn't help thinking about how the image of my tattooed dick was going to be uploaded and flashed around the globe for perverts to look at.
What can I tell you about the actual fight? Not a lot - once you've been in the arena a lot of times, the memory of each fight tends to blur into the others to form a kind of composite fight. I remember that this one was tough, especially so as in the heat of the battle I simply forgot that I was nude and fought much as usual, causing my dick and balls took some punishment from the arena floor. He and I both suffered a lot of damage from each other, and by the end we were both covered in blood and gore. I did beat him, though, finally landing a vicious series of punches to his belly and then his chin as he slumped towards me.
The kid hovered around on the edge of the fight, and when it was over he followed me out of the arena. We went back towards the "ready room", and when we got there I was relieved to see that Jamie, like me, was bloodied but not badly damaged. They told us that we were not travelling "home" that night and that we'd all be staying in the ready room, and to our surprise the guard locked the two young kids who'd guided Jamie and me out to the arena in there with us.
I sat on a bench and sat there breathing heavily, recovering. Frankly I felt battered and for a couple of minutes I was more or less out of it as my heart slowed and my breathing returned to normal. When I looked up though, Jamie was in the centre of the room fucking "his" kid - with all the other gladiators watching and laughing! Seeing that I was OK, the kid who had led me out stood there shyly in front of me and asked quietly how I wanted to fuck him. "Not at all!", I replied, my voice louder than it needed to be I suspect, as I was kind of enraged that he'd even think a man like me would want to do something like that.
He looked a bit sad, but turned and went and asked one of my companions, who didn't seem to hesitate - the kid knelt on the floor on his hands and knees, and the gladiator knelt behind him and began to shuffle forward prior to entering him. It was too much! "What the fuck...?", I roared, sprang up, and casually threw the gladiator backwards.
"Hey, Steve!", he shouted angrily at me as he sprawled there, his erect dick sticking up obscenely.
"Yes, what's the problem?" Some of the others shouted. "Jamie's fucking his 'prize', so why can't we?"
I moved over and hauled Jamie off his kid, too. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?", I demanded.
"The kid said he was a prize, as we won as a team. And I'm horny as hell... So what's the problem?"
"The problem is you fucking another guy, Jamie!"
"Steve, I do it all the time. You know that."
"But this kid...."
"He's a man. And he's a prize. That's his job. He's here to give us a good time as we won, and so what's wrong with you, Steve? You're as bad a Mike, always wanting to stop a guy enjoying himself."
As he said this, a number of the others added "Yeah, fucking right!", and "You tell him, Jamie", and other stuff like that.
"Look, Steve, if you're scared to fuck, that's OK. But let the rest of us have some fun.", Jamie added. And the watching gladiators muttered stuff like "Ashamed" and "Coward".
I was so angry with Jamie that I almost punched him out there and then. How dare he even suggest that I was scared of anything physical. Seeing me holding myself in check, and realising that I probably wasn't going to do anything to him - or perhaps like a lot of young guys to an older father figure he was in fact testing the limits of how far he could go - Jamie turned back towards the kid who he'd been fucking , casually stroked his dick to restore his erection, knelt on the floor and entered the kid again. The other gladiators cheered as he did so, and I heard some of them saying things like "Jamie's a real man, not like Steve..."
Something inside me snapped. Even now I don't know why I did it. I mean I had nothing to prove, had I? I was second only to Mike in terms of my fighting skills, and I'd just won a really tough match. So why did I feel the need to demonstrate to my fellow gladiators that I was capable of fucking another guy as Jamie was doing? Why didn't I pull Jamie off and thrash him to show that he'd gone way, way too far? I still don't understand, and the only justification I can put forward is that the adrenaline was still raging around inside me from the fight, and that I was perhaps a bit "punch drunk" from the many blows I'd received and wasn't thinking straight.
Instead of going for Jamie, I grabbed my kid, pushed him down across the bench where I'd been sitting, almost kicked at his ankles to force his legs apart, stroked my dick to make it erect, but then stopped. Remembering how Jason had raped me, I knew it was wrong. I knew the incredible pain I'd experienced. Something was holding me back, and I simply couldn't do it. The other gladiators who had turned around and were now all watching me rather than Jamie started to mutter, and I knew I looked totally foolish - it might just have worked if I'd done nothing at all, but as I was now standing there with my erect dick almost touching the kid's butt, I knew that if I failed to go through with it they'd certainly say it was because I was scared. I'd worked myself into an impossible situation, but as a gladiator I'd learned that doing nothing was never an option - that way you certainly lose.
I could feel my heart racing and those little veins at the sides of my temple throbbing with the tension. I couldn't fuck the kid like that, I knew. But I had to do something. I leaned forward, my dick sliding across the kids butt and leaving a faint trail of pre-cum on his skin (it was one of those "snapshot" moments where in spite of everything this impinged on my consciousness), grabbed his shoulder, and turned him over. I reached down and began to jerk his dick - he was hard instantly, and it only took me four of five strokes to cause him to shoot a huge load of cum over my hand. I felt the hot slick of his creamy white cum all over me, even extending up my arms, but I didn't care. I scraped it mostly off, then reached down and began to stretch and lube him with my fingers.
It was so amazing - I'd thought the kid would hate it, thought he'd try and evade me, but as I got two and then three fingers in him he was not crying and screaming, but almost moaning with pleasure. I picked up his ankles and put them on my shoulders, then slowly and gently, very slowly and very gently as I didn't want to hurt him, I pushed my dick up into him.
End Of Part Twenty