Date: Tue, 20 Jul 2010 08:35:40 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Reluctant Gladiator, Part Thirteen

RELUCTANT GLADIATOR - Part  Thirteen
A story by Pete Brown (petebrownuk @ yahoo.com)

Read all of Pete's stories at groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories

I was allowed the rest of the day off as part of my reward for winning, and
spent it by the pool - but I didn't really enjoy it all that much even
though Jamie and the two boxers joined me.  I kept thinking about the
inevitable row with Mike that would occur that evening.

It was a really hot day, even for us, and the sun beat down unmercifully.
There wasn't any shade, as Philips' Fighters provided us with the pool
primarily to ensure we got a good tan as they considered that the public
wanted to see gladiators' bodies nicely bronzed, and umbrellas and stuff
would negate that.  I spend a lot of time in the water, lazily floating on
my back with my dick sticking up in a way that I'd never been able to do in
a pool before as I'd always had to go to public ones. It's one of the only
advantages I can think of to being a gladiator - nude swimming is
definitely the best way of doing it, with the water rushing over your
entire body without ridiculous tiny Speedos, or those stupid long baggy
things all the young guys seem to wear these days.  Jamie frolicked around
a bit, swimming up to me and splashing me, ducking under me and trying to
turn me over in the water as I tried to drowse, and all that sort of stuff
that young guys
 like to do.  The two boxers swam a bit, but mostly lay side by side,
dozing and talking, but I did notice that they oiled each other fairly
frequently - and they didn't confine themselves to the parts of each other
you can't reach for yourself, like the middle of your back: it was more
like a whole body massage, with one kneeling beside the other, then running
his oily hands all over is buddy's body - shoulders, back, butt, thighs,
all of it.  And then the other side - including massaging oil onto the
dick!

Jamie was watching all this, as was I (but covertly, as I didn't want
anyone to see me looking at other guys).  He came over and lay beside me,
then asked me to rub some oil into his back.  It felt funny at first,
kneeling there with my dick flopping around as I did as Jamie asked, then
he said, sounding all innocent "That was good, Steve.  Can you do my
shoulders, too?", so I extended the rubbing higher up, digging my fingers
into his muscles, then sliding my hands down his ribs to finish.

"Mmmmm.... Don't stop....", Jamie murmured.

"You're done!  Oiled all over."

"Do my butt, Steve.  I'm so comfortable, I don't want to move."

Well, what could I say?  I mean, Jamie had asked, and it was all pretty
innocent.  And if I said no, he'd start to think there was something sexual
about it.  And of course I'd soaped him down in the showers sometimes.  But
as soon as I started to rub the oil into his hard young butt, I knew it was
different - in the showers you're with a lot of other guys and the contact
is pretty superficial.  Here I was kneeling naked beside him, and really
massaging him.  His skin was hot from the sun and somehow soft, yet with an
underlying hardness that spoke of the strength he had from all his
exercise, and Jamie was really enjoying it, it seemed, as he was muttering
"That feels fucking great, Steve, don't stop....".

It's hard to massage a guy from the side, so I moved to kneel astride his
calves and to carry on doing the back of his thighs.  Then I made a few
long strokes to "finish off", so to speak, from his shoulders all along the
length of him to the back of his knees.  Then, to my horror, I saw that
lying there on his back, just above the start of his crack, some drops of
fluid - they'd settled on the oily surface of Jamie's body.  I knew at once
they were pre-cum, and even as I recognised this I looked down and saw that
I'd sprung an erection.  I know some of you may thing that it was
inevitable, with all that sensation from the oil and the heat and Jamie's
body, but it wasn't like that at all, really - it was just a "normal"
erection that all guys get, or so I thought.

I wondered what do to about the pre-cum, and decided to gently massage it
in to Jamie - there was no other way of getting rid of it, and as I
finished he started to roll over.  I didn't want him to see my erection -
even though it was totally innocent, I knew Jamie might think that it was
because I was some sort of pervert and was getting off on the massage.  So
I tried to halt him, telling him to lie there until the oil had been
absorbed, but there was no stopping him.

"It's OK, Steve, but I've got to turn over - my dick's in agony!" he told
me as he rotated under my oily hands, and as he did so I saw that he was
erect, too - it must have been painful pressing into the concrete of the
pool surround.  I suppose it's no big deal really for a couple of guys to
see each other erect, but I felt sort of ashamed, and was glad the sunlight
was so strong as it would hide my blushing from embarrassment.  Jamie lay
on his back, smiling up at me, and said casually "Your hands are all
slicked up - you may as well do my front, too."

I knelt over him once again, and did his torso (feeling his nips erect as
my hands moved over them), and his hard, flat belly, then quickly moved on
down to do his thighs and calves.  I avoided touching his dick and balls of
course, even though his dick remained ramrod hard the whole time, and his
'skin had even retracted so I could see his moist dick head... a dick head
that soon had a jewel of pre-cum poking out of the piss slit.

"Finish me off, Steve", Jamie said quietly, and he playfully flicked his
dick around a bit with one hand.

"No, Jamie, I'm done."

"Steve, you don't look like you're done - your dick doesn't think you're
done..."

What on earth did Jamie mean?  Was he inviting me to start jerking him off?
He'd seen my erection, and was he now suggesting that he might jerk me off?
Was he making some comment that I obviously found his body to be arousing?
I didn't know, and I was in confusion.  I knelt there and felt the sweat
rolling down me, and when Jamie said casually again "Come on, Steve...."
The only way I cold think of to resolve the situation was to get up, run
across the surround, and jump into the pool and begin fifteen vigorous fast
lengths.

When we got to our room that evening Mike stripped off his uniform and
threw himself down on to the mattresses, lying there on his back and
stroking his dick to make it hard.  "I can hardly wait...", he told me.  "I
haven't had a bitch all week.  But just because you're paying, don't expect
to go first!  I'm the Champion, remember.  But I'll be quicker than usual
as it's your victory that's making this possible."

"There won't be a bitch tonight, Mike, so you may as well carry on jerking
off."

"Why not?  Did you forget?  Wasn't there one available - you should have
reminded them that I'm sharing with you, so they gave you priority..."

"No, Mike, nothing like that."

"So that fucker Straughan didn't give you any credits for the win?  He
should have - you obviously fought really hard..."

"No, Mike.  Look, there isn't going to be a bitch as I didn't order one,
and I didn't forget.  I knew you'd be expecting one, so it was a tough
choice.... But I'm saving all my credits."

"For what?"

I'd thought about this in advance and had decided that I wasn't going to
tell him about my plan to buy Jamie.  He probably wouldn't think it was an
OK thing to do.  Or he might think that I ought to buy him, at the end of
his career as well, and there'd be no way I could afford that.  Either way,
there'd be some sort of senseless argument.  So I said as quietly as I
could "Saving up for when I leave.  I've got to buy a new truck, find work,
a place to stay...."

"You're kidding!  You're worried about what happens when you leave here?
Don't you know that most of us are never going to leave here?  The least
you could do was to make life as good as possible for us.  I don't give a
fuck what you want, Steve, but you should be thinking about me.  You know I
haven't got a lot of time left as Champion, and you know I need sex...."

Mike's obsession with himself could be tiresome sometimes, so I just
shrugged, and said "OK, you need sex.  So jerk yourself off."

"I've been doing that all week, and looking forward to a treat tonight.  I
don't think you ought to disappoint me, Steve."

I looked at him lying there, and he looked angry now - never a good state
for Mike.  His dick was rampantly erect, and I could see a tiny pearl of
pre-cum on top of his piss slit.  He saw me looking, and almost sneered at
me "Yes, Steve, see, it's a dick, a dick that's ready for sex.  A dick
that's not going to be disappointed because my buddy is too much of a
damned cheap skate to rent a bitch....  I don't fancy jerking off, so get
down here and get that mouth of yours wrapped around my dick...."

"No, Mike.  You forced me to do that before, but not any more.  I'm trained
now, and I'm a gladiator, a gladiator who's just won his first fight."

Incredibly quickly, just as if a tightly-coiled spring was suddenly
released, Mike was on his feet, facing me.  He was really angry now, and
snapped "On your knees, Steve - get down and get sucking.  I'll give you
five seconds....."

I stood my ground, but of course it was useless.  I was much better trained
now, but there was still no way I could defeat Mike in any kind of fight -
and especially not when most of my muscles were still aching from the fight
I'd had.  He soon had me pinioned down, his knees digging into my upper
arms to prevent movement as he sat on my chest holding me down.  His
fingers stroked his dick to revive it's hardness, then he leaned his body
forward and began to slap my face with his dick, crooning "Yes, Steve, get
ready to take my dick... It's going to go right down your throat, Steve, so
open wide, and get ready to take it.... I need to fuck, Steve, a man needs
that, you know, so get ready, Steve, get ready to take my dick deep, deep
down your throat...."

I shook m head vigorously, determined not to part my lips even a little and
give Mike an opening to start to thrust his dick in.  He leaned backwards,
and grabbed my balls and squeezed.  "Listen, fucker, I told you to open
your mouth.  Now, so as I say, or else I'll hurt you..."

Well, what can you do when a guy who is sex crazed has you by your balls?
I didn't doubt for a moment that Mike would hurt me if I didn't do exactly
as he said - so I opened my mouth, and at once got the salty taste of
Mike's sweat-covered dick and his pre-cum on my tongue.

"Good boy!", he crooned.  "You're learning, Steve... Now you're going to
take it all the way...."

The next fifteen minutes were dreadful.  I gagged, I retched, I spluttered,
my nose streamed mucus, my eyes were running with tears, and my legs
thrashed impotently around as if they could in some way stop Mike's assault
on my throat.  This was no gentle sucking of one guy's dick by another - it
was far, far beyond that: it was rape.

It was over at last, though - Mike pulled right out, jerked his dick a few
times shouting "Jesus Christ, I'm cumming... oh.... fuck...."  and shot his
load all over my face.  I can remember seeing all the muscles in his
magnificent body straining, and the droplets of sweat running down him as
he crouched on top of me, and the heat and weight of his sweating body on
mine.  He sat there on top of me, hardly bothering to make it easy for me
to breathe by taking any of his weight on his knees, and carried on
squeezing at his dick and allowing the small residues of his cum to seep
out as he sighed and moaned.  He wiped his dick several times across my
nose and lips, then, finally, sat back a bit and looked down at me. "That
was good, Steve.  But I don't think you enjoyed it as much as I did.
Still, it's good when a buddy helps another one out..."

"You fucker...."

Mike smiled as he used his fingers to marshal the cum down my face and into
my mouth.  "Yes, Steve, I am, aren't I?  I'm a real man, a fucker.  And if
here's no bitch around, a real man has to fuck what he can find."

He got off me then and lay down, still contentedly caressing his dick and
balls.  And like he often did after sex, he was soon asleep.  I lay there
feeling violated and used, and still choking and coughing a bit from where
Milk's cum was irritating my bruised throat.  It took me ages to get to
sleep, but I did of course as I'm a healthy guy and I need my sleep, and in
fact I slept so deeply that Mike had to shake me awake the next morning
when the guards were coming.

He seemed bright and cheerful, ready to face the day, and was acting just
as if nothing had happened!  He slapped me on the butt playfully as I stood
there waiting for the door to open, and told me to cheer up as it was a
fantastic day, the sun was shining, all that sort of crap.

"Mike, you can't just act like nothing happened!"

"What do you mean?"

"You raped me!"

"Oh don't be so melodramatic, Steve.  I only fucked your throat, that's
all."

"That's all?  That's all?  You held me down and forced your dick down my
throat...  "

Mike's mood of cheerfulness seemed to evaporate.  He grabbed hold of my arm
and almost snapped "Listen, Steve, and listen well.  I'm the Champion here,
and I can do pretty much as I like.  Straughan knows that a real man like
me needs sex, and he wants me to have it as that way I stay in fighting
trim properly.  So don't go whining to him."

"I wouldn't.  You may not realise it, but I'm a man, too, and a man fights
his own battles."

"Yes, Steve, and last night you were defeated.  And I was the winner.  And
the winner takes all.  Now stop whining - a dick down our throat is hardly
life threatening!  And it's your fault, anyway, for not bringing a bitch
back with you.  And this is a warning, Steve - when you next win a fight,
you'd better be sure you use the winnings to get us a bitch, or I'll likely
fuck your throat again.  Or perhaps I might go for the real thing...."

"You wouldn't!  I never had you down as a fag!"

Mike pinioned me against the wall, his forearm at my throat and almost
strangling me.  "Listen here, Steve - don't you ever call me a fag!  Not
ever.  Understand?"

I did my best to nod. "You know I'm into bitches, seriously into them.  And
the only reason I mess around with other guys as it's kind of natural to do
so in here, when there's not a lot else to do and when a man needs relief.
I've told you before, that's perfectly natural - men have been doing it for
thousands of years.  So unless you want a good beating from me, you'd
better remember that and I never want to hear the word 'fag' again.  Is
that clear?"

I nodded, as best I could.  Mike dropped his arm from my throat, and I
stood there rubbing at it as I was so sore.  Mike watched me for a few
seconds, then his mood seemed to change again.  I could hardly believe what
he was saying as it was so different.  "Look, Steve, I was angry last night
as I was expecting a bitch.  And the least you could have done was suck my
dick - that's not so much to ask from a buddy, is it?  Millions of men do
it every day.  So when you wouldn't oblige, I had to take what I needed,
didn't I?  I had no other option, as you know I need sex.  Now let's not
put a little thing like a dick down your throat come between us - I've got
to like having you in here as it's good to have a buddy to talk to in the
evening.  But if you're going to be stupid, I'll ask Straughan to move you
out and get another roomie - that Jamie's got a cute ass, and I don't think
he's as inhibited as you clearly are."

It wasn't just Jamie I was thinking of: I wasn't trying to protect him from
Mike's dick as I suspected that all over Philips' Fighters there were men
forced to submit to others - I guess it's what happens when you lock a
group of tough virile guys up together.  No, I could see that something
that Mike had said was true - it was good to have a buddy, a real buddy
like Mike, to talk to at night.

I stuck out my hand.  "Shake....  But no more raping...."

Mike grinned and shook mine.  "Grow up, Steve!  I might have to, if we
can't sort ourselves out for a bit of mutual fun.  But we'll stick at
jerking off, and the occasional sucking, OK?"

Still holding his hand I continued to shake it.  "It's a deal, Mike.  I
like the 'we' in what you said, and I can't wait to see how good you are
when it's your mouth and my dick."

I don't know whether Mike thought I was joking, or not, as the door opened
and we went out to begin another day.

______________________________

For the next few months life went on as usual, except that now I was "out
of training" I began to get scheduled for more and more appearances in the
arena - not just the small one for the richest clients, but even sometimes
as a sort of "supporting act" in the main arena, in front of thousands.  It
didn't matter much to me, actually, as once I started to fight my world
closed down to contain just me and the other guy as I fought and manoeuvred
to beat him, and the surroundings, the crowds, the cheering... all that
stuff became a background blur.  I was successful, too - I'd been a marine
before I was enslaved, and so I had a kind of "head start" on some of my
opponents.  But it wasn't that, I think - as we lay together one night
after jerking each other off, Mike was complimenting me on my performance
earlier in the week and I told him about my theory.  "Fucking stupid,
Steve.  There are good fighters, and bad fighters.  Good marine fighters
and bad
 marine fighters.  I reckon you're one of those guys who just naturally is
a fighter - you want to win, and you'll do anything to make it happen.  You
probably denied it in life outside, even in the marines where I bet you
kept apologising for beating the other guys in your unit.  You denied it
even to yourself, and you're continuing to do so - I think you're afraid to
let anyone, least of all yourself, see that you're a pretty ruthless kind
of guy who'll do anything he can to win.  And with that kind of
personality, it's no wonder you're turning into such a good gladiator."

"Fucking rubbish, Mike.  I'm not like that at all.  I'm a regular, decent
guy, who simply happens to be good at fighting."

"...who happens to be good at fighting because deep down he's driven to
win."

There's not a lot of point in arguing something like that with Mike as he
won't give in once his mid is made up on a subject, and he'd just get more
and more ridiculous.  So I kind of shrugged, and we turned over and went to
sleep - Mike's butt pressing against mine as we turned in opposite
directions was kind of nice.

We didn't resolve the sex thing, though - every time I won Mike made a
point of making me suck him off as I hadn't provided a bitch, although he
never tried a real rape of my throat again.  I challenged him about this
once, and he smiled at me.  "Hey, Steve, we're buddies, or so you keep
telling me. And buddies suck each other off.  But in any case there's no
need for me to rape our throat - you're getting so good at servicing my
dick, so good at taking it down until your nose is buried in my pubes, that
it's as good as a fuck.  I've had a lot of guys sucking my dick, Steve, and
you're right up there in the top five."

"Hey!  I'm not sure I like being called a good cock sucker! And what's all
this about buddies sucking each other off?  I haven't felt my dick in your
mouth...."

"Steve, haven't you learned yet?  What regular buddies do together is one
thing.  But what buddies do when one of them is Champion is different."

I was about to say something about getting my chance once he was no longer
Champion, but stopped myself as I knew this was such a worry to Mike .

Mike continued to win, although before every match he now got more and more
tense as he seemed certain that this would be "the one" where he finally
lost.  He usually let me have "sloppy seconds" with the bitches after these
matches, but sometimes, with a twinkle in his eye, he'd say something like
"Real buddies would share, Steve, and you don't do that.  So no fucking a
bitch for you tonight...", and on those occasions he'd invite Darren into
our room and I'd have to lie there and watch and listen as first Mike, and
then Darren, laid into her.  It was kind of interesting about Darren,
actually - since his "eighteenth" he'd really come on as a kick boxer,
probably because he had the right type of physique for it.  He was strong
and muscular, but somehow compact and lithe at the same time.  He was very
proud of his body and his strength, and once his pubes had re-grown it was
almost as if he wore his uniform pushed down as far as possible so everyone
 could see his dark black thatch fanning out above it.  He idolised Mike,
and would always push to the front for the best view when Mike was
fighting, or practising, he always wanted to sit at our table at meals even
when it was, as I've told you, the custom for the different types of
gladiator to sit together, and was always on the look out for little
services he could do for Mike.  His idea of heaven, I think, was to get
himself next to Mike in the showers so he could be the one to soap and wash
Mike, and if we were all together in a cluster, generally doing each other,
he'd elbow us out of the way so he could kneel and soap Mike's dick and
butt!

Mike kind of liked this attention, I think, but was nothing other than
brutally realistic with Darren.  One night, after Darren had fucked Mike's
bitch and she'd gone, he lay between us but facing Mike as if hoping that
by ignoring me I'd somehow magically disappear.  "Thanks, Mike", I head him
say.  "You were great!  Opened her up nicely... She was panting for it...
I really want to be like you, Mike, and when I start to win and have a
bitch myself, these lessons will be invaluable... I might even get to be
Champion one day."

Mike had been sort of agreeing with Darren as he said all this stuff,
giving little murmurs of assent, and half laughs.  But suddenly he sounded
serious.  "There's no way you're ever going o be Champion, Darren, so
forget about it."

"Yes, I can, I'm fucking good...."

"Darren, it doesn't matter how good you are.  You'll never be Champion as
you simply don't have the body for it.  Champions are always big guys, like
Steve and me, big guys who can smash and hit others.  You're a great kick
boxer - you're getting better and better at it - you've got the right 'will
to win' and the right kind of body for it.  But there's no way you can go
beyond that, no way.... Sorry, Darren."

Darren usually regarded anything that Mike said as if it was written on
tablets of stone, not to be argued with, so I was surprised when he
replied.  "Well, actually, I think the whole scene is changing.  Folks
increasingly want to see skill, real athletic skill, and not just a couple
of guys beating the shit out of each other."

Oh no, here we go again, I thought as the next moment Mike was astride
Darren, pinning him down to the mattress.  "Listen, Darren, and listen
good.  The public come to the arena to see fights, real fights, fights
between real men, fights where two men battle each other - yes, battle -
until one of them disables the other.  They want to see blood.  They want
to see bruising, black eyes, the occasional broken limb....  A bit of
athletic kick boxing between a couple of nice-bodied guys is OK as a
warm-up, the second feature, so to speak, but the real reason they're there
is to see men like me.  And they always will come for that."

Whatever he thought of it, Darren had the good sense to shut up and stop
arguing as I think he knew what Mike could be like when roused, as I did.
So Mike only "punished" him by deciding that he hadn't had enough sex and
that Darren should suck his dick; and, actually, I don't think it was all
that much of a punishment as Darren really liked the opportunity of being
that close to Mike!

It did make me think, though.  Was the world of gladiators about to change,
in spite of what Mike said?  Was Darren right, and the public mood was
turning more towards athleticism and less towards sheer physical brutality?
There wasn't an answer for me that night, but the thoughts whirled around
in my head as I drifted into sleep - well, not actually straight away.
Once Darren had sucked his dick until Mike had shot for the second time
that night, he ordered Darren to turn over and help me out!

Darren protested, and Mike slapped his butt - not in that friendly way he
sometimes did to me, but with much more menace and a clear threat of what
would happen if Darren carried on arguing.  "It's OK, thanks, Mike...", I
said, trying to spare Darren.

"Keep out of it, Steve!  I told Darren to do something, and you know I
don't change my mind.  He's got to learn to obey the Champion."

It's OK for Mike to say things like that, but it was my dick that Darren
was about to suck, and I do think a guy ought to be able to choose whether
that happens to him or not.  But we all needed sleep, and I didn't want to
provoke Mike any more, so I threw my arm out sideways and as gently as I
could pulled Darren towards me.  And it was fun, actually - I ran my hands
over his hard, firm body as he worked away, and it was really sensual.

End Of Part Thirteen