THE SPOILS OF WAR by Pete Brown. petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories in groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
Part 20
Slug tried to get into my bunk that night, but I pushed him away, as it was too painful. I could see him climb in with Lewis then, and once again Lewis kind of enfolded the kid with his big tough body. Slug was still disturbed, though, as a couple of times during the night in addition to all the usual heavy breathing and little moans and stuff that the guys all made in their sleep, I was woken up by Slug half crying, half whimpering "No, no, please.... No....." I thought at first that Lewis must be fucking him or something and leaped out of bed, really angry: even though Lewis was in charge, I wasn't going to let him hurt young Slug. But when I got to the side of Lewis's bunk, I saw that Lewis was awake, too and was kind of stroking the kid and trying to calm him. "Bad dreams", Lewis whispered. "Best to let him sleep on, and work it out of his system.... Still, who can blame him, when you think of the way that bastard must have treated him...."
I went back to my own bunk then but I couldn't sleep very well lying there on my belly, and I was glad when I was morning. I thought they might let me off exercises that day as every time I moved my body pain from the cane marks shot through me, but Lewis soon dispelled that! "Come on, Spike - don't be a baby! It will be worse at the end of the day if you let your body get out of condition, so you've just got to suffer a bit now. Get stuck in...."
Look, I usually like exercising. I've told you how great it feels to be really using my body properly, and I never have a problem normally with working away until I'm exhausted. But that morning was sheer hell - every time I bent or stretched or moved suddenly, I was reminded of the pain from the caning and I wanted to moan out loud - but I couldn't let the other guys see I couldn't take it, could I? And, oddly, I suppose Lewis was right - the more I worked out, the easier it did get as all my skin and muscles got used to being stretched in spite of the wheal marks, and by the time we were allowed to stop for a chow break it wasn't so bad.
Lewis had made Slug join us for exercises, too, and he looked pretty much all in as we sat on the grass of the exercise field after we'd eaten. Lewis was sitting on the other side of him, and I heard Slug ask "Is it always like this, sarge?" - I thought it was interesting that he'd picked up the handle all of us guys used for Lewis, even though Slug had never been in the Corps.
"You should always be tired when you've finished exercising - it's only when your muscles are really aching that they've been properly pushed just that little bit beyond what they did before. It's the only way that you'll get to have a good, hard body, like the rest of the guys. You do want that, don't you?"
"Yes, sarge - I want to be like Spike. And like you, of course." I guess I was kind of flattered that Slug wanted to be like me - I mean, I'd quit school and stuff, and folks didn't often look up to me.
"Well, you might make it, I suppose. You've still got a couple of inches in height, I reckon. And you've got a good physique so with proper feeding and a lot of hard work, we can clothe it in nice solid muscle like Spike's, provided you work at it. "
"So can I be a gladiator too, sarge?"
"Well, son, that depends on the Colonel. It'll take a couple of years of hard work to get you properly in shape - you've got to remember that Spike and all the other guys were in the Marines for a long time before they were captured and brought here. Bodies like that aren't made in a day, you know. I don't know if the Colonel is prepared to wait that long - he's got to feed you and everything....."
"But that doesn't cost much, surely..."
"No, but then there's the loss on his capital. If he sold you now as a fresh young lad, I think he'd get a good price for you. And the interest he could earn on that money..."
"But who'd want to buy me now? I'm not properly developed...."
Lewis lowered his voice, moved a little closer to Slug, and said "Look, son, I don't want to worry you. But there aren't many very young slaves like you out there - most of the slaves are the spoils from the war, so they were mature guys, like Spike and me. But there are an awful lot of men who fantasise about fucking young guys, and they mostly can't get their way: most high school kids, even if they like men, are only really into experimenting with their buddies, learning how to jack off together, all that sort of stuff. There just aren't many sixteen year olds available for fucking, so if the Colonel sold you to a brothel, he'd get a big stack of money for you as they could rent you out for top dollar."
I heard Slug's voice falter a bit. "He wouldn't do that, would he, sarge?"
"Look, kid, I've told you: it's up to the Colonel. He's running a business here - we're all only here because he can get money from the audience and from the TV when we fight. If we weren't making money for him, he'd sell us. So I guess it all depends on how much he values money today against how much he thinks he might make from you in the future - in a couple of years you'll still be very young and kind of 'fresh', and maybe he'll take a view that the money he could make then from having a new, young gladiator would be a better deal overall."
"Is there any way we can make him keep me, sarge? Anything.... Anything at all I can do?"
"No, Slug. You're a slave, remember? And slaves don't make decisions or anything, and they've got no bargaining chips. They just have to hope that their owners do the right thing by them.... That Leroy was a real bastard, but the Colonel is a pretty good owner...."
"But he's going to cane you and Spike..."
"Look, Slug, that's part of being a slave. If your owner feels you've not behaved properly, what's he supposed to do? He can't dock your wages or anything, can he? He can't fire you, either. So all he's got is physical punishment. It's not all that unreasonable for an owner to tan the hide of a wilful or misbehaving slave, when you think about it."
"But you and Spike were only trying to help me..."
"Yes, but Spike didn't do it the right way.... He's always too strong willed and too hot-headed for his own good..."
I interrupted at that point. "Hey, sarge, what do you mean? I'm not hot-headed...."
"Yes you are, Spike, and you know it! Every time you go into he arena you lose it totally, and fortunately, that works for you as it means you normally win. But outside the arena, you'll find it gets to be more and more of a problem for you - I reckon the Colonel will be keeping a special eye on you now, and he'll notice any signs that you're not behaving like a proper slave. I wouldn't be surprised if this caning we're going to get won't be the first of many for you."
"Yes, and about that, sarge.... The Colonel said that it's you who's got to arrange for both of us to be caned. Couldn't you just forget - I didn't see the guards writing it down, or anything... I mean, he wasn't right, was he? - I was only trying to help Slug...."
"Spike, I don't want to hear any more! This is exactly the type of thing I mean, the sort of stuff that will get you into deep shit - you say our owner 'wasn't right' - well, that's no attitude for a slave to have: his owner is always right! And then you're trying to get me to disregard an order our owner gave me - that's not right, either! You just don't put your brain into gear before you open your mouth sometimes, do you, Spike? Think on - if I didn't arrange the caning, and the Colonel remembered about it next week, or next month.... What would he do? It would be far, far worse - he'd schedule the caning anyway, and then he'd have me punished even more for disobedience!"
In some sort of crazy way I could see that Lewis was right. But it all didn't make sense - caning a guy on the bare ass wasn't right, but I couldn't find the flaw in Lewis's logic. Unless, of course, it was that men shouldn't be slaves at all. But then, I was a slave, so even if men "shouldn't" be slaves, that wasn't going to do me any good right here and now. ___________________________________
The next couple of days were OK, and I gradually recovered from the pain from my caning in Atlanta and was almost back to normal. I could even sleep on my back and on my side again without too much discomfort, and now Slug was really insistent, always trying to climb into bed with me. Finally I kind of lost my temper with him, and snapped "Look, kid, I don't do very young guys, OK? I don't want to have to worry about my dick ripping you apart."
"Please, Spike, I thought we were buddies.... You saved me, Spike, and I want to be grateful..."
"Well do it by leaving me alone, OK? I want to sleep.... Now fuck off - go and find one of the other guys to sleep with, or go with Lewis again." To show him I meant business I snapped my fingers for Stu, who, as Slug watched, came and leaned over my bunk so that I could fuck him. Well, I mean, a guy needs to have sex, doesn't he? I needed a good night's sleep, and I wouldn't get it if my dick was constantly hard.
The next morning Lewis told me that he had fixed out caning for that evening. "You're fighting in a week's time, Spike, so we'd better do it now, so that the marks mostly have time to disappear - it doesn't look good on the TV to have a gladiator showing signs of punishment. They can cover a lot of it with makeup, so you should be OK."
"Makeup, sarge?"
"Yes. You know, that stuff women use. Well, it's special makeup for the TV, thicker and all that - they can just get someone from the TV studio to spread it over your butt if the cane marks are too visible."
"Wouldn't it just be better to postpone this until after I've fought.... You never know, the Colonel might change his mind...."
"What you mean is, Spike, that you think I might forget. And we've been through all of that. No, you'll be fighting pretty regularly from now on, so it's better to get it over and done with. But don't worry - it's nothing like as savage as the beating Leroy gave you: the Colonel gets one of the guards to do it, and he isn't nearly as powerful as Leroy was. We'll be sore, sure, as that's the point of a punishment, but it will only last a day or two. And it will only be on the butt, not the thighs, and it doesn't hurt as much there: it will be pretty bad at the time, but it soon wears off as there's a lot of muscle to absorb it."
"So if it's that easy, why does the Colonel bother, sarge?"
"Well it's mostly the humiliation... We'll be caned bare-assed, in front of all the other guys. And then, everyone knows that it's kind of a reminder - a caning's not too bad, although we'll probably both squeal a bit as it goes on, but everyone knows that the Colonel could have ordered a proper flogging... There's only been one of those since I came here, but it's always in his power to do it again." I was worried all day, though, as we exercised and worked out, and I couldn't really concentrate on the fighting lesson I had in the afternoon and ended up with a couple of huge bruises as a result. At five o'clock, when we were normally finished for the day and hit the showers, all the gladiators started to line up on the exercise field. A flat trailer that they used to haul stuff around the site on was pulled up in front of the guys to give some height, and Lewis and I stood there by the side of it.
The guards were much in evidence, and they lined all the gladiators up in neat rows, and then we all just stood there, waiting for the Colonel - if anyone spoke, the guards soon shut him up, and I think it was this silence that really started to build the tension.
At long last the door of the administration building opened and the Colonel came out, accompanied by one of the guards, who was swishing a standard punishment cane through the air experimentally.
They made their way smartly across the field towards us all, and the guards shouted "Attention!" - which we all did, almost automatically, having been marines. The Colonel glanced at the ranks of his gladiators, then at Lewis at me, and shouted "Stand Easy!", to allow the guys to relax.
"Right - which of you is first? Lewis or Spike?" he asked us.
"Spike can go last, sir", Lewis answered at once.
"Oh Lewis, always looking after your men! You know the first strokes are always the hardest, as the guard isn't tired..."
"Sir, please sir, I'll go first!", I said, as soon as I'd heard this. "It was all my fault, sir..."
The Colonel laughed, said quietly "You always want to be the hero, don't you, Spike? Well, you can go first. Lewis: up on the trailer, and bend over."
Lewis leaped up, and went down on his hands and knees.
"You haven't seen a caning here before, have you, Spike? Well, Lewis is there and now you go and use his back to support you. Get well over him, so your ass is well in the air above his back, and your head to the ground."
I got up onto the trailer, and bent over Lewis as I'd been told, with my butt facing towards the watching gladiators. I then felt the trailer move slightly as the guard climbed up, and then he was fumbling at the fastening of my shorts... And pulled them down. My dick was pressed into Lewis's hard back, and the guard kicked my feel apart to loosen my butt a bit, as I'd kind of involuntarily clenched my cheeks together. I knew that all the other gladiators must be able to see my balls hanging down, and probably had a good view of my hole, too, and I remembered what Lewis had said about it being about humiliation, as well as about straight punishment.
There's something about being caned, especially publicly like this, that is very degrading. I suppose it takes us back to the idea of school days years ago when they still did this. It made me feel like some sort of naughty boy, leaning over Lewis's body, having my pants pulled down, and now receiving the six strokes.
I wasn't expecting the first one, and I cried out, involuntarily, as it striped across my butt, and by whole body jerked forward - which caused my dick, trapped against Lewis's backbone, to hurt too. But then the guard did the rest quickly and methodically, and I managed to lie still. But, as Lewis predicted, I couldn't remain silent as the five remaining strokes sliced into me, and as each stroke landed, I let out a yell. The guard then reached down and pulled me to my feet, and left me standing there, my back to the audience, for a minute or so as he used the tip of the cane to trace out the stroke marks across my butt to show the audience what he'd done. I felt myself blushing with embarrassment and shame as he did this, an embarrassment and shame that got worse when he turned me around to face the assembled men: I'd sported a huge wood, and there was a bead of pre-cum dangling from my piss slit.
"Right, boy.... It's Lewis's turn. Get on your hands and knees....", the guard snapped, and then, as I reached for my shorts, "No, stay naked!"
I had to kneel there, knowing that the guys could see my dick and balls hanging down between my thighs, as Lewis was stripped and made to lie across me. I felt the heavy warmth of him as he shuffled around, trying to make his dick and balls comfortable against my back, and his wiry pubic hair scratched at my skin. Then, as he was being whipped, I felt his dick go hard against me, just as I had done, and when it was over, he too was displayed to all the gladiators so that they could see what had happened to him.
The worst was not over, though! As I went to pick up my shorts, even though I knew it would be painful to wear them on my striped butt, I was stopped from doing so and told that the Colonel had decreed that for the next forty eight hours Lewis and I could only wear Ts, so that everyone who met us would be able to see that we had been punished. Actually, going around in just a T with your dick and balls hanging down underneath, and your butt exposed, is worse than going totally naked - it just emphasises your dick and butt. But there was nothing that Lewis or I could do, and as we jogged back across the empty exercise ground, I realised how difficult it was going to be for the next two days - my dick was bobbing up and down, and without support of any kind, my balls had already begun to have a kind of dull ache in them.
Back in our room all the other guys clustered around to look at our butts, and I guess it wasn't so bad - after all, we were all used to being naked together. And certainly the pain this time, although my butt felt as if it was on fire, was nowhere nearly as bad as when Leroy had caned me. I still needed to sleep on my belly, though, and as I lay there, trying to get to sleep, Slug came and knelt by my head.
"Are you OK, Spike? Can I get you anything...?"
"What the fuck do you mean? What is there to get? Go away, will you? I've told you before to quit hanging around me."
I saw his eyes almost fill with tears. "I don't know, Spike, I just wanted to help.... You saved me from Leroy, and now you've been beaten again, I wanted to try to repay you...."
"Hey, kid, I'm sorry. But this is not a good time, OK? My butt's on fire, and I need to try to sleep as it's going to be tough tomorrow...."
"But can we be friends, Spike?"
"Hey, sure. Us slaves all need to stick together.... We're all friends here...."
I don't know if that was what he wanted to hear, but he got up, and a couple of moments later was in one of the other guys' bunks, and I heard little chuckles, and the unmistakable sounds of two guys jerking each other off. That made my dick go hard, of course, and trapped underneath me, it added to my discomfort.
It was no fun working out and exercising for the next two days, as I'd predicted. Three was a lot of joshing and joking from the other gladiators who kept coming up and patting my butt, but I could handle that, but the ache from my balls was tedious. And the cane marks had faded within ten days, which was when my next fight was. _____________________________
The Colonel had arranged a kind of tour for me, to get me known, and I suppose to increase my value generally, and again he sent Lewis with me - although we were not manacled together as the Colonel considered that I'd learned my lesson. We travelled down to Miami, then up through New Orleans, and on into Texas, fighting in Houston and in Dallas, and then on to St Louis, and finally back to Raleigh via Nashville. It took a long time, not only because the buses were slow, but because in each place I was allowed three days to recover and "re-condition" myself before the fight, and then after the fight we were lodged in a gladiator barracks so that I could recover from the bruises and such like before moving on.
I never lost a fight, and the crowds at each successive location seemed to be more and more on my side, as I was the new, hot gladiator. I completely lost my inhibition about fucking in public, or, indeed, at appearing naked in public: down in Texas it was the custom for gladiators to "weigh in" on the morning of the fight, in front of a paying crowd and the TV cameras and such like. And, as you'd expect, the "weigh in" meant that you had to strip totally, so that "the true fighting weight of each gladiator could e determined", they said - as if it would have made much difference if we'd been allowed to wear our fighting pouches, or even our shorts: they could, after all, have easily subtracted the weight of a pair of standard slave shorts from the amount on the big scales they used, couldn't they? But it wasn't so bad after the first time - I just came out in my shorts, stood there with all the cameras flashing and everything whilst the officials read my Slave Identification Number, and then I just dropped my shorts and stood up on the scales. Afterwards, me and my opponent just stood there, both naked, as they took more photos of us together, and then it was all over - I don't suppose it was more than a half hour in total, but I gathered that the tickets were quite expensive.
Through all of this Lewis aced a my trainer, to make sure I carried on exercising, and as a sort of "handler" - he made sure I lubed up properly before the fights, even though, like Leroy, I expected to win, and other stuff like that. We shared sleeping accommodation, of course - whether it was a room, or just a sleeping pad in a slave cage, or whatever they provided. And although we both lay there jerking off, we didn't do anything else: no mutual jacking, no sucking, and no fucking. Lewis said that as he was my trainer and handler he needed to keep a "distance" between him and me, or he couldn't function properly - especially as he was extremely vigilant in making sure I had no sex at all for three days before every fight.
All in all, it was almost two months before we got back to Gleeson's Gladiators, and this time, when we were summoned into the Colonel's office, I knew I really had done well. The Colonel told me so as soon as I was allowed into his office, although as a careful owner he then made me strip so that he could thoroughly examine me all over for damage, and to make sure I was still in absolutely top fighting form.
"You've done well, Lewis", he went on to say. "You've kept Spike here in excellent condition, and I could tell from the way that he went at the fucking that he was properly 'on edge' for each match. That can't have been easy, keeping a young stud like this away from sex for days. Are you two fucking regularly?"
"Sir, no, sir. Spike only really wants to fuck when he's in the arena. And he doesn't like taking dick, sir. Of course we've both jerked off at the same time - as you'd expect buddies to do, sir. But nothing more."
"I'm getting worried, Lewis. If he doesn't take dick, even when he's with his buddies, what's going to happen when he loses, as he assuredly will, one day?"
"Sir I think that makes him fight harder now. I don't think he'd have won that first match of his if he hadn't been desperate. Of course he'll lose one day - we all do, as we et older, and the younger guys keep coming on, but he's always properly stretched and lubed before going into the arena, so there won' be any permanent physical damage to him, no torn membranes, or anything...."
"Yes, but I'm worried about the effect on his personality." Turning to me, who was still standing there naked, he continued "Spike, you're not going to like this, but it's for your own good. You can't always expect just to fuck other men - you do need to learn to take it, too. So..."
I blushed furiously, as I remembered having to take dick when I'd first been enslaved, and interrupted him "Sir, I have taken dick, sir, I...."
"Spike, shut your fucking mouth!", the Colonel roared.
"The last time you were in here I had you punished as much for your habit of interrupting men when they were speaking as for the way that you'd acted after your first proper fight. I thought you'd learned, learned that slaves remain silent unless they're answering a question. But perhaps I'd better have you caned again - most of the other gladiators here admire you, as we've shown them your fights on TV, and it would do them good to see that however good a fighter you are, you're still my slave, and you need to show proper respect."
I thought it best to remain silent, and not try to apologise or anything, and the Colonel seemed to get calmer. "Anyway, as I was about to say, I've therefore decided that you need to learn how to take dick properly. Your next fight isn't for a month, and before then, I want you to have had proper sex with one of your buddies."
"But sir..."
"There you go again, Spike, questioning my orders! Now, shut the fuck up, or rather than being caned in front of the other gladiators, I'll have you fucked in front of them!"
Turning to Lewis he went on "You've fucked him, haven't you, Lewis?"
"Sir, yes, sir."
"Well then, before his next fight, make sure that you do it again, or get one of the other men in your room to do it. Does he have a regular man he fucks?"
"Yes, sir, Stu."
"He's the middle-weight, isn't he? Is that the one Spike is giving it to?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, get him to return the favour - Stu's a good, classic middle-weight, and his dick shouldn't be as hard to take as your is, Lewis."
"With respect, sir, I don't think Stu could - he's so used to bottoming for Spike, that he couldn't do it. And as you know, sir, we've decided that Stu will never get promoted to the top class, even though he's a good fighter, as he just lacks the will to fuck."
"Yes, you're probably right, Lewis. That shows I'm right in my decision to keep on some of the older stock like you to really understand the slaves. So it will have to be you, I suppose - there's no other man in the room?"
"Well, only young Slug, sir...."
"Ah yes, and that's another problem! That lad's been getting a bit unruly whilst you've been away. I've awarded him as a prize once or twice, and that's gone down well as a general incentive to every room to keep working hard. But when he's with the other men in your room, there are signs of trouble - he's playing the men off one against the other, getting them to make 'bids' for his favours... I won't tolerate men acting like that, Lewis: men should be men, not little flirts! You're not to blame, of course - you haven't been there, and I'm sure you'd have stamped on that kind of behaviour, hard, before it really took hold."
"Sir, yes, sir...."
"Does Spike fuck him?"
"No, sir. Slug likes Spike, almost reveres him, but Spike always rebuffs him. Slug has several times tried to bunk with Spike, but Spike always refuses."
"Well I think that this is a way of solving two problems at once. For the next two weeks make sure Slug and Spike always bunk together - Spike won't be able to resist having sex with the kid for all that time. And it will stop the jealousy, as none of the other men in your room will challenge Spike. Then at the end of that time, make sure Slug fucks the brains out of Spike - arrange it so that all the other men can watch, as Spike needs to learn that there's nothing wrong or shameful with taking dick."
"Sir, yes, sir!", Lewis snapped smartly, then, as it was clear that the Colonel had finished, he gestured at me to leave. But I couldn't. I'd been horrified at what I'd heard.
"Sir, please... No, don't make me submit to Slug..."
The Colonel looked at me, folded his hands on his desk in front of him. "One more word, Spike, and you'll be 'submitting' to him in front of the entire school. You still don't get it, do you? You're a slave, remember? And slaves obey their owners. They obey them in EVERYTHING. Now, get out of here, before I really lose my temper."
I was going to carry on arguing with him, but I think it was lucky for me that Lewis grabbed me by the arm, and gently pulled me towards the door.
End Of Part 20