Reluctant Gladiator

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

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

I was no longer the strong, confidant marine that I had been only such a short time ago. My eyes were running, my nose was uncontrollably streaming snot and mucus, and my whole body was quivering and twitching as I desperately tried to bring it back under control. I was aware of being humiliatingly erect - Look, I've got anything to be ashamed of in the dick department as I'm way above average, but, I mean, you don't expose yourself to other guys when you're like that, do you? Especially as I was so hard that I'd skinned back and I knew they could all see my moist cock head as it stood up there proudly. Worst of all, though, was the wet feeling as I stood there, almost unable to move, in a big pool of my own piss! It's so fucking humiliating to lose control of yourself to the extent that you piss over the floor - I hadn't ever done that before, even when I was very, very drunk.

My brain was struggling to cope with all these thoughts and to take some decisive action, but it was almost totally overwhelmed by the need to cope with the pain that was flooding up from my butt - sharp, spiky sensations from the cane strokes themselves, overlaid by the deep, terrible aching hurt from my muscles.

The two guards were smiling faintly, and the four young guys who had "only" been strapped were looking at me with some sort of horror. "You guys are lucky", one of the guards told them. "You got away lightly. But let this be a lesson to you - toe the line, follow the law, or else the next time you'll be in this room you'll be like this idiot here. He not only broke the law, but he was defiant and stupid, as you've seen."

The four young guys had all been rubbing at their backsides, but stopped now as the second guard continued "Right, you guys.... Let's get out of here and get you dressed, so you can be on your way..." He opened the door and motioned for them to go through, and, somehow, in spite of everything, I managed to get myself sufficiently under control to manage to make a couple of very hesitant steps.

"Not you!", the first guard snapped. "Who do you think is going to clear up your piss?"

I stood there, not knowing what to say, or what to do, as I was still so confused and my brain was still so overwhelmed. As I stood there impotently, the guard went out and came back a few moments later with a big cloth, which he dropped down into the piss on the floor. "Clear up your mess, boy", he snapped at me.

I hated him calling me "boy", but with everything else going on there was nothing left in me to protest - I needed all my efforts to stay standing, and to stop myself from whimpering and crying like some pathetic wimp. I tried to bend over to make some attempt at mopping up the piss, but the pain from the muscles in my butt and my thighs as I went to bend over was just too much and I stood there impotently. Seeing my obvious difficulties, the guard snapped "Down on your hands and knees then, fucker!"

I don't know how I managed it. But I did. I didn't want to cry out again as I forced my body to obey me and slowly, agonisingly, lowered myself to the floor. I rested for a moment then, on hands and knees with my head down because it seemed almost too much effort to look up, I willed myself to show the guards that I was a real man, in control of myself. Then, gradually, I found I could reach out with one hand towards the cloth, and began to swirl it around in the pool of my piss. But you know how it is when you're mopping up spills and stuff, some always escapes the cloth. So my piss swirled across the floor at me, so then I was kneeling in it, too.

The two guards were watching me as I knelt there on hands and knees, and I knew that they could see my dick and balls swinging between my thighs as I dabbed away at the spreading puddle. "Nice stripes", I heard one tell the other. "I always think you have a good technique - all six of them, evenly spaced across his butt. He won't be comfortable sitting down for weeks!"

"Yes, even though I say so myself, this was a good job. I reckon I got the maximum power without actually breaking the skin like I did last time. So he won't be permanently scarred."

"Yeah, that fucker doesn't know how lucky he is. A nice butt like that would be spoiled with permanent scarring...."

This was too much for me. "Listen, you queers, you may like to look at my butt, but I don't care what it looks like as I don't go around showing it to other men."

I cried out in pain again as one of the guards pushed his boot against my butt and thrust hard at the tortured flesh, causing me to go flat out onto the floor, soaking my chest hair in the remaining piss: I simply had not got the strength in my body to resist such an unexpected attack. With a huge effort of will I managed to struggle back to my hands and knees, then forced myself up to a kneeling position, so I could glare at the guard.

"Get mopping, boy, or do you want more punishment?"

"Listen, fuckers, I've had enough. You want to watch yourselves.... It can't be too hard to find out where a couple of locals like you hang out...."

"Are you threatening us, boy?"

"No, I'm just saying that you probably wouldn't be quite so brave when I'm fighting fit...." (I emphasised the "fighting"). " And I wonder what would happen if we were to meet up 'accidentally' as you were coming out of your favourite bar..... Now, help me up....."

The two guards looked at each other, then one came around behind me. I felt his hands under my sweat-soaked armpits, and the help he gave me was just enough to let me get to my feet. The pain was still almost overwhelming, but I was dimly aware that at least my erection had subsided. It's amazing, but a reflex cut in and I realised I had reached down and had almost unconsciously flipped at my dick to make it "hang free", and to give a little scratch at my balls. Yes, I know it's something every guy does in the morning and so on, but I was surprised to be doing it here in front of these two other men, and when so many other terrible sensations were flooding through me.

I headed towards the door through which the four young guys had left, and I had to make a huge effort of will to drive my feet one in front of the other. I made it, though, and the four guys were still there - the had mostly dressed - or, at least, they had got their jeans back on and were standing there trying to reach down to put their trainers on and tie them in spite of the pain they were clearly in.

They all stopped and stared at me, and I knew I must look a sight. I was sort of all hunched up, my front was wet with a sheen of my piss, and my face was streaming with the remains of my tears and snot. Slowly, I made my way over to where my briefs, jeans and T were on the peg over the bench. I knew that pulling the tight briefs over my tortured butt would be almost impossible, so I reached for my jeans.

"Can I have a towel?", I called to the guards who were watching me. "I'm soaked..."

"And who's fault is that?", they asked. "No, we don't provide facilities like that for prisoners."

There was nothing for it, so I gabbed at my briefs and as the six of them watched me I scrubbed at my chest and belly, then reached down and tried to dry all my pubic hair. I hated it - I mean, it's OK to dry yourself off with a towel when you're in a changing room and all the other guys are doing the same thing.... And when you're drying off nice clean water from the showers. It's quite a different thing to have two guards, and four very young guys watch you as you dab at your body with your briefs. I could see them all staring at me as the snowy whiteness of the cotton gradually turned yellow as I rubbed away.

The next problem I had was to try to get my jeans back on. I got them down off the hook, but then realised that there was no way I could bend down to pull them up my legs - the pain from my butt as the muscles tried to stretch was just too bad. One of the four young guys saw the problem though and came over. He knelt down and began to help me, easing the fabric over my calf muscles and then up my thighs. I had to really try as hard as I could not to shout out as he tried to help me like that - I didn't want to scare him or anything, as it was really good of him to try to assist: I knew that as he knelt there he'd get the smell of my piss and my sweat, and especially that strong, musk-like scent from my groin and my ass crack. It's like when guys are getting changed after exercise - that special smell in the locker room as they strip their soaked jocks off - it's bad enough when you're standing some way away, but this kid practically had his nose in

my pubes.

Still, between us I did eventually manage to get my jeans on, and then with a lot of struggling I managed to pull my T on myself. The kid was there again, though, and it was he who had to put my socks and trainers on, as there was simply no way I could bend over to get at my own feet. The guards told us we were all free to go then, and we made our way back out to the reception area. The fuckers hadn't given me any way of getting back, though - I was stranded there on the edge of the town. I made my way over towards the cops and asked for a lift, ut they just sneered at me "We're not a taxi service, boy!", they laughed. "And, anyway, you'd hardly be able to sit down in the back, would you?" I could see he was right, and I wondered how the fuck I was going to get back to the base.

The four kids seemed to be OK, as their folks had come to collect them and their moms and dads were standing there with their arms around them trying to comfort them. They went to drive off eventually, leaving me standing there, but one stopped, turned around and came back. It was the kid who'd helped me dress, and his old man seemed a nice guy, too - once he saw I couldn't sit down he folded the rear seats away so I could lie there, and then he offered to take me all the way out to the base.

I managed to make my way to our bunk room, then simply collapsed on my bunk, face down. That's how my best buddy Jason found me when he got back from leave. "Fuck, Steve!", he shouted as he saw me lying there. "You must have been on a real bender...."

As he said this, he came over and went to slap me on the butt as he does - he's one of those boisterous, physical kind of guys - but I shouted out for him to stop.

"Whoa, old buddy.... Come on..... Have you lost your sense of humour...?"

"No, Jase.... But I've had a judicial caning...."

He gave a low whistle. "You're kidding! You? 'Mr Nice Guy' ? The guy who always obeys the law....?"

"Yes. It's a long story.... Those bastards really hurt me, though."

He came and crouched by the side of my bunk and looked straight at me. "I reckon they did, Steve. You look terrible. Come on, let's go over and have a drink at the Club..."

"You're kidding! I can hardly walk...."

"You must be in a bad way! It's not like you to turn down a drink, specially when I'm offering...." As he said this he shrugged, got to his feet, and went out. I just lay there in my misery - not only was I hurting, but I thought it was pretty crappy the way Jase has left me, as we were meant to be buddies after all, and he was off drinking with some of the other guys whilst I was lying there.

But I should have known better, I suppose, as after about twenty minutes Jase came back. "Hey, I've got something for you...", he called as he came into the bunk room.

"Jase, you know it's absolutely against the rules to bring stuff from the Club into the bunk room.... We'll both lose a day's pay if the sarge finds out..."

"That's what I mean, Steve", he said, grinning at me. "You're such a goody-goody, always bothered about the rules, and yet you go and get yourself a judicial caning. Anyway, it isn't a drink - I thought you needed something better than that. So I went down to the medical centre and saw one of the orderlies - he wanted you to come in and see one of the docs, but when I said how bad you were and it was from a caning, he understood... Apparently there was a guy in last month and when one of the docs saw him he gave him painkillers and stuff but then he reported him to the Colonel, and he was thrown out of the service... 'Conduct unbecoming', they said... So he sneaked this stuff out of the supplies cupboard for you, and told me how to apply it."

"Apply it? Don't I swallow pain killers?"

Only those one of the docs wold prescribe.... And we don't want that. No, this is some kind of super analgesic cream. Now, let's get those jeans down and let your old buddy Jason help you out...."

So for the second time that day I had another guy helping me with my jeans. And as he eased them down over my thighs, Jason gave a low whistle. "Fuck me, Steve! I've never seen anything like this! There are ridges all across your ass, and it's bright purple, and black.... You'll never win any beauty competitions now...."

I watched as he tore open the packaging on a jar of some white cream, and reached in and smeared a big dollop over his fingers. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to rub this in, Steve."

"No way! I can do it myself...."

"Shut up, you idiot! I saw how you were when I was helping with your jeans. No way can you reach around and do this yourself... Now stop being stupid, and let me get started..."

Well, what can I tell you? The stuff stung at first, and I lay there with my fists balled up and my face pushed into the pillow to try to stop me from crying out as Jase started to rub the cream into my ass. He saw me, and laughed. "Hey, Steve, it can't be all that bad. You look just like those guys who are getting fucked, biting the pillows...."

"What guys are getting fucked?", I managed to get out as he worked away.

Jason sounded very confused, and kind of defensive. "Oh, you know.... When I was on leave last time... I was in a bar with some old buddies from home, and there was a complete fuck-up - instead of having some proper sex on the big screen, the bartender made a mistake and put on one of guys fucking guys... And there was a lot of grunting and crying out.... And the guys kind of bit the pillow when they had a big dick forced up them. I think the film was called 'Will it hurt?', or something like that...."

"A mistake? How cold a bartender make a mistake like that? Why was there some vile gay porn in there anyway?"

Jason muttered "Well I think we'd got it wrong actually.... We went into this bar on the wrong night.... It was the weekly gay night....."

"And you didn't know? Couldn't you tell, looking at the other customers when you went in?"

"No. They looked perfectly normal, and I was with my buddies..."

"But you stayed?"

"Well, my buddies didn't seem to mind, and we were only drinking.... Nothing happened...."

"...except you stood there and watched guys taking it up the ass!"

"Only for a couple of hours..."

"A couple of hours? You watched guys fucking guys for a couple of hours?"

"They weren't fucking all the time.... And, anyway, what was I supposed to do? If I'd demanded to leave my buddies would have thought I was scared or something. And, anyway, it was quite a laugh, especially when the stripper came on..."

"So what did all these gay guys want with a stripper?"

"Well, after he'd stripped, he jerked himself off...."

"HE? You mean it was a male stripper?"

"Of course. It was the weekly gay night, as I've told you....."

"And you watched....?"

"Look, Steve, stop being so fucking accusative. Of course I watched. We'd all had a few beers by then, and it was kind of funny to stand there and shout out as the guy beat his meat... "

"Jason, that's sick..."

"Come on, Steve! It was a it of fun, that's all. Not all that different from being in the next bunk to you every night, and listening to you at work on your dick...."

Look, what could I say? I thought it was a bit much for Jason to have stayed and watched gay porn, but I knew he was a straight guy - I mean, sometimes when we were abroad we'd shared a room and hired a couple of hookers and had fucked them in our separate beds. So I decided to let it go - well at least this time. But somehow this had changed my view of Jason a bit. Still, the cream did seem to be having some effect as the terrible pain was lessening a little.

I lay there as Jason worked away, and watched as he took another big scoop of the cream onto his hands. But the next moment I was in agony again - Jason's fingers were probing down my butt crack, not simply rubbing the cream into my cheeks, and as I twisted around to stop him all my muscles spasmed in agony again. Above my screams of pain I shouted "What the fuck.... Jason, what are you doing....?"

"Aw, come on, Steve.... I'm only trying to help....."

"Get your hand out of my crack...."

"I was only trying to get some cream down there...."

"For what? I didn't get caned down there...."

"I thought it might help...."

"Well it doesn't. And I don't want a guy's fingers down my crack.... "

"OK, OK, Steve.... It's your choice if the stuff doesn't stop the pain as well as it should. I thought it would be good to put a layer all over your butt muscles.... Do you think I'm some kind of queer or something, wanting to play with your ass?"

What was I supposed to say? Jason and I were best buddies, and it looked to him now as if I was accusing him of some sort of perverted practices. So I mumbled a kind of apology, and Jason took that a meaning it was OK for him to continue. Actually it wasn't all that bad - somehow it was very soothing to have Jason's hand sliding down between my butt cheeks, and as he worked away massaging my butt and as the pain decreased as the analgesic started to work, I relaxed and began to doze off - I was really tired after what I'd been through.

But something alerted me and I screamed out again "Jason, what the fuck.....?"

"Sorry, Steve, my finger kind of slipped...."

"...kind of slipped into my asshole?"

"Aw, come on, Steve, it's no big deal.... People pay a lot of money for stuff like that, you know."

"Well I don't! Get your fucking hands off me, right now!"

Jason stood up and looked down at me. "OK, Steve. You can lie there in your misery. Don't ask a buddy to help you out again."

I began to feel really bad about this. I mean, we'd known each other for a long time, always looked out for each other in the barracks, and especially when we were out on a mission. And now I'd seemed to have really upset him. "Hey, Jase, I'm sorry... I didn't mean anything by it..."

Jason shrugged. "Well, if the pain has eased, can you get up now? You ought to try...."

He was right, of course. So I struggled to my feet, and stood there with my jeans bunched around my ankles. I couldn't help noticing that Jason seemed to be looking at my dick - I mean, all of us in the barracks saw each other naked in the showers all the time, of course. But in the bunk room we were somehow a bit more modest, and most of us stripped down only as far as our briefs and boxers. And if we were changing them, we kind of turned away so or backs were to our buddies. So it was odd to be standing there with my dick and balls exposed, and even odder to have Jason staring as he was. It seemed to be better to ignore it, though, so I bent down and tried to pull my jeans up.

Jason saw me struggling and went to help, but, strangely, somehow I didn't want him to. It had been OK with the kid earlier, but here with my best buddy, who'd been massaging my butt only a couple of minutes ago, it somehow didn't seem right.

I don't know what might have happened, or what we might have said, because at this point the door of the barracks opened and the sergeant came in. "Masters, over to the admin block!", he told me.

"What's up, sarge?"

"You're deep in it this time, Steve. There was some sort of communication arrived from the civil authorities, and the Colonel went wild and ordered you over there."

I finished pulling my jeans up, but sarge said "In uniform, of course! You're going to see the Colonel."

"But I'm on leave...."

"When the Colonel orders you to see him, you're on duty! You should know that. Now, get a fucking move on - he's pretty pissed off as it is, and you don't want to keep him waiting.

End Of Part Two