Date: Mon, 21 Mar 2005 12:50:15 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Spoils Of War, Part 17

THE SPOILS OF WAR  by Pete Brown.  petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

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

Part 17

I don't really know how long the journey took.  The
bus stopped from time to time to take on and let off
passengers, but the door to our compartment wasn't
opened and so Lewis and I just sat there on the hard
floor.   There was a kind of tit thing in the ceiling
in one corner where you could suck out some water to
stop yourself from dehydrating totally, and Lewis
showed me a flap in the other corner which could be
lifted up to allow you to piss out onto the road as it
raced past underneath.  He told me that you needed to
be careful on these trips as if you needed to crap
this was the only way of doing it, too - and if you
got into a crowded compartment, it could be very
unpleasant.

After it was dark and we were still making progress,
at one stop the door was opened and they threw in a
couple of bars of compressed slave chow, but that was
the only bit of variety in the otherwise monotonous
journey.  Lewis and I sat together, an as we kind of
slumped into sleep I had a hard on and really did want
to relieve it.  I thought of using my right hand,
awkward though that would be, but when I pushed down
my shorts so that my dick sprang up and I started to
play with it gently, Lewis told me to stop.

"Look, Spike, I know it's difficult.  But, believe me,
it's for the best.  You really do want to be right on
edge when you fight, as it will make you more
aggressive - not that it's usually a problem for you -
but you've got to remember that you've got to fuck the
guy right there in the arena if you win.  You don't
want the embarrassment of not being able to have an
erection, do you?"

"I don't want the embarrassment of having to be buck
naked in front of a huge crown, and of having to fuck
at all, actually..."

"Well that's tough, Spike. You can't avoid that as a
gladiator.  But think of the shame if a stud like you
wasn't able to get it up!  And it wouldn't just be
your problem, either - the Colonel would know that I'd
let you cum at some point, and I'd get punished.  So
hang in there, and put that dick away!"

In a way it was good just to be alone with Lewis like
this -  I suppose one thing I'd learned in the Corps,
and at the gladiator barracks, was that there was
almsot no such thing as privacy as you were always
with your buddies working out, or in the showers, or
eating together, or sleeping together.  I don't think
I'd spent so much time with only one other guy around,
and with relative privacy so that there weren't a lot
of pairs of ears listening and eyes watching, for a
long, long time.  Lewis and I kind of snuggled
together, and we had that special kind of man-to-man
feeling you only get with another guy you really like.

"Did you think life was going to turn out like this,
Lewis?"

"Hell, no!  I joined the Corps as my folks couldn't
afford to send me to college.  I always intended to
keep my head down, do a good job, get to be a
sergeant, and then after ten years get out and go back
to school on one of those government programmes.  I
reckoned I'd still only be in my early thirties when I
would be finished, could get a good job, find a wife,
a small house, a nice dog, kids....  And look what
happened!  I'd have been out of the Corps by now if we
hadn't had this stupid fucking war and well on the way
to the American dream.... Instead of that, here I am,
shackled to you...."

"But do you think we'll ever be free?  Will the North
strike back, and we'll be freed, and we can pick up
where we left off...?"

"Look, Spike, don't even go there!  From what I can
understand of it, this war has really fucked things
up.  So much has been spent on it that the economy's
on its knees.  Even if only half the propaganda is
true, the North can't fight the South again as it just
doesn't have the resources - especially with the oil
problem.  So I don't think there's any chance of a
'fight back'. I think we have to reconcile ourselves
to always being slaves - I can't see that the South is
going to give it up again, and free us voluntarily,
either:  you've seen all those Arabs - if anything,
they're embedding the idea of slavery even more firmly
into their way of life.  No, Spike -  I think we've
got to accept it, and that's probably the best way of
trying to get on:  it you always think of yourself as
a free man who's been made a slave unjustly, but
who'll be free again one day, you won't ever be happy.
 If you can learn to accept that you're a slave, then
you might get at least some enjoyment from the things
slaves have in life..."

"Oh, come on, Lewis! Slaves have jack shit in this
life!"

"Well that's not completely true, Spike.  If we hadn't
had the war, I'd be at college, struggling with the
course work, and trying to date women, and having to
be nice to them to try and get a fuck.  Then I'd have
kids, and a mortgage, and a job, and maybe a boss who
was always riding me to work harder, and I'd be
worried about the kids doing drugs, and paying the
bills, and stuff...   As a slave, I don't have any of
that.  I just have to do what I'm told, and everything
else is taken care of.  And I get to fuck a lot of
nice guys...."

"You can't be serious!  You're not free.... They can
whip you and stuff, sell you..."

"Spike, think about it!  How free were you really in
the Corps?  Didn't you have to obey the officers?  And
if you left and got a job, how free would you be then?
 You'd have to do as the boss said....  And think of
all the time you'd waste chasing around for sex - now
you can have it whenever you want - except in the run
up to a fight, of course!"

He smiled as he said this, and I didn't know if he was
really being serious or not.  "You're not telling me
you like being a slave, are you, Lewis?"

"No, Spike.  But it's not all bad, particularly for
guys like us who enjoys using their bodies.  I've seen
you in action in the ring, and in the sack - you revel
in the power you have and the way you can use your
muscles to dominate and control other guys.  You
certainly wouldn't be able to do that as a free
man.... Think on:   perhaps being a slave all the
time, in exchange for all that control some of the
time, isn't a bad trade..."

We sat mostly in silence after this, until we arrived
at the bus station - in Atlanta there were two stops,
one at the airport, and one downtown, and our
compartment wasn't unlocked to release us until we
were at the downtown one.  Lewis told me he knew the
way, and we walked through the streets towards the
headquarters of the second channel.  There were not
all that many slaves in the streets of downtown, and
in our matching Ts and shorts, bare footed, and
manacled together, we were somewhat unusual and the
crowds on the sidewalks tended to stare at us.  We had
to walk in the gutter, Lewis explained to me, as there
was a city ordinance that didn't allow slaves to
possibly impede free men on the sidewalks themselves.
Some of the drivers were real bastards, though:  they
drove right up behind us and honked their horns, or
even sideswiped us, laughing as we jumped out of the
way.  I guess most slaves were used in road crews, or
construction, or in agriculture, and not many got
office jobs, and this is why they treated us like this
in the heart of the city.

The second channel HQ was one of the rearing towers,
looking very plush and glossy from the outside with
its dark glass gleaming in the sun, but once we were
inside (through the separate slave entrance, around
the back), it was very different:  guards checked us
in, then we had to take the goods elevator to the
eighteenth floor where the slave quarters were.  As
the elevator doors opened, there was another guard at
a desk, and he consulted a list, verified that we were
expected, and took us down a stark, bare corridor:
just thermoplastic tiles on the floor, and a row of
metal doors stretching away into the distance under
the bare fluorescent tubes.

He opened one of the doors, but told us to wait a
moment - and then, to my great delight, he used
something to undo the manacles holding Lewis and me
together.  "You're not fighting until tomorrow night",
he said to me, "So you'll have plenty of time to rest
after the journey.  You'll get chowed tonight, but
that's then it before the fight - boys like you fight
better if you're hungry!", he told us as he motioned
us in through the door, then pulled it shut, and there
was the sound of a key turning in the lock.

Well, the building might have been all glass from the
outside, but there was none of it in our bit.  The
walls were completely bare, just painted over the
blocks that made them up.  The only break in them was
the door - again, with no handle or anything on our
side, and high up, a grill that was making that kind
of low rumble as it changed the air.  The floor was
bare cement, too, except that there was a sleeping pad
against one wall, and in the other wall, the now
familiar piss and shit hole.

"Just as well we're not claustrophobic", Lewis
remarked.

"So do we stay here until the fight?"

"Yes, Spike, that's what usually happens - they take
you out about an hour before to shower you, give you a
good clean out, and give you time to lube and stretch
your ass, and rub in a bit of oil to make you shine.
But look, just because we're here, it doesn't mean you
don't need to take care of your fitness - there's some
space, and you'd better get started:  trunk curls,
push-ups, jumping jacks, running on the spot...."

"Hey, give me a break, sarge..."

"No, Spike.  We've been idle for quite a time on the
bus, and you're used to exercising regularly.  You
need to keep it up, else you'll have a problem
tomorrow night.  Now come on, I'll pace you...."

Well he was right, I suppose.  I was feeling kind of
listless and lethargic, so I went down and started
doing push-ups.  Lewis slapped me on the ass, after
I'd done about ten, and told me to strip.  "Look,
Spike, you're breaking out in sweat already, and I
don't want to have to spend all this time in here with
you with sweat drying on your clothes and starting to
stink..."

I shrugged, and stripped off. And Lewis did the same.
We were used to being naked together, after all, and
other that the inconvenience of having your dick and
balls flopping around as you exercise, it was no big
deal.  Mind you, it was even more boring than usual -
at least at Gleeson's we were exercising in the good
open fresh air, and there were other slaves to watch
and so on.  Just going through all these routines here
was really boring, and it struck me that maybe being a
slave at Gleeson's wasn't quite so bad after all.  If
I was one of the house gladiators here, after all, I'd
have to live in these conditions all the time.

When we stopped, though, it was good to be able just
to lie there with Lewis and do nothing - you don't
often get that as a slave, as they liked to keep us
busy as it stops you from thinking about escape and
stuff, I suppose.  And, of course, when two horny guys
are lying naked together, thoughts turn to sex.

I reached over and took Lewis's dick in my hand, and
started to stroke it.

"No, Spike!  Cut it out!"

"Oh come on, Lewis - we've got nothing else to do...."

"Spike, you know what the Colonel said - no sex before
the fight.  They really want you to be on edge,
remember?"

"Hey, sarge, so, OK, I can't jerk off, or fuck you....
But I can play with your dick, surely?"

"No, Spike!  Cut it out, as I said.  Look, I've been
here before, remember?  You'll start off playing with
my dick, and I'll shoot, but then what.... One thing
leads to another, you know, and before you know where
we are, we'll be fucking properly.  It's easier not to
start at all..."

"But you're ready for it", I told him, as I continued
to stroke his dick that was now sticking up ramrod
solid. I bend over him and just lowered my mouth over
it, pulling my lips together and teasing his flange
wit them, as my tongue flicked over his piss slit.  I
got the taste of his pre-cum, and my own dick was rock
hard and, I suspected, leaking too.

"No, Spike!".  Lewis was quite rough then in pushing
my head up and away from him.  Then he sat up and
looked down at me.  "Look, Spike, I don't think you're
really taking this seriously, or you wouldn't be
playing around like this.  This is an important fight,
you know.... You need to win it..."

"Hey, for why?  I don't give a fuck who wins...."

"So you want to be fucked in public if you lose?"

"No, of course not.  But I don't want to fuck in
public either, if I win.  It doesn't matter to me one
way or the other:  so I might as well go in there, let
him beat me whilst I put up just a token resistance -
that's a lot better that really fighting, going at it
hard, when I get hurt a lot more.  So, OK, he'll then
take my ass.  What does it matter?"

"It matters, Spike, because the Colonel has got a lot
riding on this match..."

"Well fuck him!  Who cares about the Colonel?"

"You ought to, Spike - he owns you!"

"Yes, and so fucking what?  I didn't ask to be a
slave, I didn't ask for him to buy me, and I certainly
didn't ask for him to have me fight, and then fuck, in
front of millions on TV!"

"Spike, you're like a lot of headstrong young guys
that used to be in my platoon.  You're just thinking
with your balls, not with your brain.  Let me spell
out the facts of life for you, then maybe you'll see
reason!    Like it or not, you are a slave.  And like
it or not, the Colonel owns you.  You've had some
success so far in your fights, and I think you're a
pretty good fighter, and could go a lot further - and
that's why this fight is so important to you:  your
first fight on the second channel could establish your
reputation, get you in front of the mass audience, get
you a fan club.  And then you're worth a hell of a lot
more to the Colonel, than you are just as a local boy
who happens to be doing OK in the city arena."

"So why the fuck should I care about what I'm worth to
him?"

"Because, Spike, the more you're worth, the more
likely it is he will keep you.  Or, if he does sell
you, someone else will buy you with a big reason for
keeping you fighting!  You forget that with all these
Arabs coming along there's a ready supply of fresh
slaves, a whole lot of them really good fighters.  So
if you don't perform, don't make a reasonable return
fro the Colonel, then his best bet is to sell you and
replace you with someone who might make it big."

"So  I get sold.  So I'm a slave.  That's what happens
to slaves...."

"Spike, yes, it does.  Slaves do get sold.  But think
about it:  if you're no good as a gladiator, you'll be
sold into one of those gangs doing construction work
or something.  How would you like that - working away
all day under the lash, chained by your collar into a
coffle, with the heat, the rain, the bugs?  Or maybe
he'll sell you into one of the brothels - it's not
women who are the clients, you know - it's guys.  And
do you think men who pay for sex want to be fucked?
No, Spike:  that ass of yours would be in constant
use.  So think on - sure, you're a slave, we both are,
taken as part of the war.  But life could be a lot
worse for you, Spike, and so you'd better do well
tomorrow..."

I suppose there was something in what he was saying,
and I was going to carry on arguing him but we heard
rattling and clanking at the door, which opened and a
guard just tossed in two packages.  "This is it,
guys", he called out.  "No more food until after the
fight tomorrow night.  Lights out in ten minutes, so
you boys had better eat, piss and shit now."

Both Lewis and I were ravenous as we hadn't eaten
since leaving the Colonel's, and we fell on the
packages and tore them open.  It was just standard
slave chow, of course, but bound into something like a
candy bar so that it could be eaten easily.  I got
mine down in two or three bites, then Lewis  pushed
his towards me.

"Hell, no, sarge... You must be as hungry as I am...."

"You're fighting tomorrow, Spike.  You need it...."

I knew he was right, but you can't take food off
another guy, can you?  So I pushed it away, and his
bar just sat there on the floor.  After a couple of
minutes when it was clear I  wasn't going to take it,
Lewis kind of shrugged, then bit into the bar, telling
me to get over to the corner hole and piss if I needed
to, or even crap.  I was glad I only needed to piss,
actually, as the hole wasn't very big and there was no
tissue or anything, and then Lewis did the same, and
we both lay back down on the floor pad.

The lights went out then, and it was dark - no, not
just dark, pitch black!  We're not used to that, are
we?  There's always some light, from a lamp, or the
sky, or the moon.... But we were in a totally enclosed
 room somewhere in that tower, and once the lights
went out, that was it - utter, pitch blackness.  Lewis
and I just lay there together, and it was now only our
senses of hearing and touch that were any use.

Until you've tried it, you don't realise how hard it
is to sleep totally naked, with absolutely nothing on
you.  Even at the Colonel's they gave us a thin sheet
for our bunks, but here, nothing.  I'm not afraid of
the dark, of course, but it was kind of eerie being
there like that, and Lewis and I almost clung to each
other all night - I don't think  I slept all that much
as my dick was hard, and every time I moved and it
rubbed against Lewis, it made me think of fucking him!
 And of course we had no idea how long we slept for,
as without a clock or anything there was no way of
knowing what time it was when the lights flickered
back into life.

Lewis insisted I did some morning exercises, but then
we just sat there, companionably together, until there
was the sound of the door being unlocked again and the
guards opened it.  I was really hungry by now, and
kind of fractious, as you get when your belly's
rumbling, I think.  "Come on, you boys", the guard
snapped, and as he did so I think he saw the look on
my face.

"Boy, you'd better change that attitude, and change it
fast!", he rapped.  "The crowd likes to see a boy with
cane marks on his ass in the arena - it shows them
he's a rebel, and a fighter!  And I can soon arrange
for you to be nicely striped, you know. Now, start
behaving like a proper slave, or I'll take you down to
the punishment room and cane that ass of yours
properly."

"Please don't do that, sir", Lewis said in a really
ingratiating kind of voice that I'd never heard him
use before.  "He's just a bit upset as it's his first
fight, and he doesn't know the ropes yet.  He's a good
slave, sir, really he is, and he doesn't deserve
punishment...."

"Come on, Spike", he muttered, "Buck up, and behave
properly..."

I was going to tell him to fuck off, but I could see
the guard looking eager - perhaps he wanted to cane me
- so I just bowed my head, and they led us out into
the hall.  Lewis had gone to pick up his shorts and T,
but the guards just told us to go naked as we were off
to be prepared anyway, and everyone here in the
building had seen slave dick, after all.  Even so, it
was really odd being in an elevator in the nude, with
other folk getting on and off as it stopped - it's one
thing to be naked, and another to be naked when all
the other people are clothed, especially in something
familiar like an elevator.

The preparation area was a bit like the kind of locker
room I was used to in the Corps, except that there
were no lockers - well, I guess all of us hadn't got
anything to keep in them, had we?  But there were
those kind of wooden slatted benches, a tiled floor,
an archway leading through into a shower area, and a
couple of massage tables.  There were two guys already
in there, in the showers, and the guards told us to go
and join them, and it was really good to feel clean
again - we hadn't been allowed to wash after leaving
the Colonel's, and with all the exercise and
everything, I guess we were a bit ripe!   Once in the
showers, though, I found they were a bit different
from the usual ones in a marine barracks - in addition
to the shower heads, there were hoses with rounded
steel nozzles on the end lying there.

Lewis gave a kind of wry smile, and tried to make
light of it. "I suppose there's one thing about being
a retired fighter, Spike - I no longer have to be
flushed out..."

"What do you mean?"

"The enema hose, Spike - go on, against the wall -
there are some handles - bend over and grab them to
steady yourself, and I'll work the nozzle...."

"Hey, I don't need this...."

"Spike, you're on national TV!  If you get to lose,
they don't want to the viewers to see the other guy's
dick covered in your shit!  I'm sorry, Spike, but this
is one of the preliminaries for a fight on the second
channel - you'll soon get used to it.   Now, look,
that guard's watching - the one who's itching to get a
cane to your ass.... So come on, there's no point in
refusing.... It's going to happen to you anyway...."

Look, I'm not going to tell you all about it.  How it
hurts as your guts get full.  How it forces itself out
when you can't hold it any longer.... And it took four
changes of water before Lewis said it was OK to finish
showering. But after that the guards told me to shave,
and as there were no mirrors or anything, Lewis did
it, standing there pulling the razor over my face -
actually, it's quite sensual, I suppose:  Lewis was
concentrating so hard on shaving me that he was
careless about his own body, and his dick kept bumping
into my bare skin.

"Hey, buddy", I joked "I've just showered, and now
you're covering my thigh with pre-cum!"

He slapped my ass playfully - I guess he knew I was
tense, and was trying to lighten the atmosphere a bit.
 "OK, Spike - let's see how good you are at stopping
your pre-cum when I do your balls....".  And as he
said this, he sat down on one of the benches, kind of
pulled me towards him so that my dick was at his
eye-level, and started to lather and then gently shave
my balls again.  And, of course, after that, I had to
bend over and spread my cheeks apart as he ran the
razor down my as crack, clearing away the stubble that
had started to grow there.

I suppose I was kind of reconciled to doing this fight
- what Lewis had said the day before had kind of
struck home with me - but when I took a closer look at
the other fighter, I realised I knew the guy!  We'd
done a course together and been out for beers and
everything.

As he saw me staring at him, he recognised me, too.
"Hey, Steve....."

I turned around so he could see my tats  "It's Spike
now, Jerry.  They've fucking renamed me."

"So I guess we're going to find out now which of us is
the best fighter - we never resolved that on the
unarmed combat course..."

"No, Jerry.  And I seem to remember that we both liked
the women, too... So we're going to find out which of
us can fuck a guy, too!"

He shrugged, and half smiled.  "Hey, St.... Spike, I
guess that's how it goes.  Is this your first fight?"

"Yes.  Well, it's the first for the second
channel...."

"So you've never been in the arena and fought to the
fuck?  Well, don't worry - I'll be gentle with you.
This is my eight fight, and I've won all the previous
seven....  Just don't struggle too much, and I'll give
you an easy time with my dick...."

I hated the idea of fighting a guy I knew, a fellow
marine, someone I'd been on a course with.  Up until
now I suppose I'd thought of the other guy just as
'another slave', but now it was kind of personal.  I
looked at Jerry's dick hanging there, remembered the
times we'd been together in the Corps, and wondered
what it would be like to have his dick up my ass - or
mine up his, for that matter.  We sat there then in
silence, as I think neither of us really wanted to
talk about old times - I suppose he thought the same
as me, about fucking, or being fucked by, a fellow
marine.

Lewis broke the silence.  In a low voice, so that
Jerry wouldn't overhear, he whispered "Come on, Spike
- lie down, and get your legs in the air...."

"What for?"

"I'm going to loosen you up, then lube you..."

"No, sarge.... I'm not going to lose.  I don't want
you doing that..."

"Spike, shut the fuck up!  I'm tired of listening to
what you do and do not want... I've been here before,
right?  I've seen lots of guys like you before a
fight.  I've seen a lot of them not wanting to be
properly loosened.... And then I've seen a lot of them
with really torn asses afterwards!  This isn't some
little love session like you have with Stu - although
he squeals a lot when your dick goes in him, he's used
to it, and I suspect you slow down if he's really
hurting.  No - your buddy Jerry - if he wins - will
just fuck you ruthlessly.  That's what fighters do
when they've won.  They can't help it.  And it's what
the crowd wants to see.  Now, just do as you're told,
for once."

I lay on the bench, Lewis straddled it, then pulled my
calves up over his shoulders.  He leaned forward, and
started to massage my asshole, using some grease from
a big pot to smooth his way in.  Of course, once a guy
starts doing this to you, provided he's careful and he
knows what he's doing, it actually feels great,
doesn't it?  I was almost slipping away into a doze as
he worked away, now with two, and then three fingers
inside me, and Jerry's buddy was doing the same to
him, so he clearly thought that there was some
possibility that he might lose and I would be fucking
him.

The tension was mounting, I suppose - we could hear,
just faintly, the sounds that a huge excited crowd
makes which got carried to us through the
air-conditioning ducts.  But then the door opened, and
this huge black guy strode in.  Look, I'm a big guy
myself, so it really takes a mountain of a man to make
me feel I've seen someone big, and this guy was it!
He had a good four inches and seventy pounds on me.
And like a lot of blacks, he was dressed flamboyantly
- a deep red silk suit, white leather shoes, and lots
of gold jewellery.

"You fucking slaves - on your feet when a free man
comes into the room!", he barked.

All four of us were so surprised that we took a moment
to react, and he snapped "You slaveboys - on your
feet, now!   Or I'll have the guards tan your
hides....  Or I might even do it myself!  I'm pretty
good at tanning the hides of slaveboys, aren't I,
slave?"

He turned around and grabbed a young slave who'd been
standing behind him, mostly hidden, as he had entered.
 He gave the lad a push, and the poor kid went flying
through the air, to sprawl on the ground in front of
us.  I looked at him, and, like us, he was naked.  But
more than that, he was utterly and completely nude,
except for his slave collar:  it looked as if all the
hair had been shaved off him, everywhere.

The lad had pure white skin, no tan lines or anything,
but all of this was only faintly visible through a
mass of purple and yellow bruises, and bright red
weals, which seemed to cover almost all his body.  He
struggled to his feet, and stood there, head bowed,
looking scared - no, terrified.  He was almost
painfully thin, and you could see his ribs sticking
out, and his hip bones.

"This is how I treat disobedient slaves", the black
almsot shouted, half laughing.  "And if you four don't
want some of it, get to your fucking feet, now!"

All four of us got up, and the black laughed again.
"Which one of you is Spike?"

"Me."  I turned around so he could see my name
tattooed across my shoulders.

"Right, boy, after the match that's six strokes of the
cane for you.  Doesn't that Gleeson teach you any
manners?  When a free man asks a slave a question,
don't you know how to answer?"

"He's sorry, sir....", Lewis cut in, "He's just a bit
tense before the fight.... The Colonel likes slaves to
be properly respectful, sir...."

"Are you his handler?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well then, after I've fucked him, be sure to remind
me that I'm going to cane him.  And tell him to
behave, if he wants it to remain at six!"

"Sir, you're going to fuck him, sir?"

"Yes, boy.  I'm fighting your Spike tonight.  And I'll
win, and then I'll fuck that nice, muscular ass of
his.  And then afterwards, I'll cane him, right here,
in the dressing room....  Now...."

He pulled his jacket off, and tossed it to the young
slave who looked terrified that he might do something
wrong, but who caught it, neatly folded it, and put it
down onto the bench.

End Of Part 17