THE SPOILS OF WAR by Pete Brown. petebrownuk @ yahoo.com
Read all of Pete's stories in groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories
Part 13
The guy standing there was different, though: he was wearing a tweed jacket, a cotton shirt, cord pants, and thick, expensive looking shoes in dark brown.
"Ah, Spike, isn't it? Yes... I recognise you from last night. Really good fight.... You've got what it takes to go right to the top, I think. I've already placed bets on your next fight, before others think about it, and I believe I'll clean up."
I looked at him, and didn't know what to say. Was he a slave, or not? He didn't look like one, as I've said, and his way of speaking was odd, too - then I realised he was speaking with an English accent.
"Right, Spike. Don't just stand there. Close the door, and let's get started. We're going to have a lot of fun, I hope, this morning... You Americans can be really good and a lot of fun, once we've overcome your silly inhibitions - and you've got a really nice body, if I may say so. So why don't you strip off, and let me see all of you - I was tantalised all last night as I watched you fight, trying to guess what that little silk scrap concealed, so shuck those clothes, there's a good chap, and don't keep me in suspense any longer."
"Please... Are you a slave...."
"No! They hire me to give these lessons - we British are better at it than you Americans are. We don't have the guilt, you know. And it's been a bit of a tradition for hundreds of years - well, at our famous boarding schools, at least. That's where I learned it. Not that they pay me much to come here and teach you chaps. Well, I suppose I'd probably pay them, if they asked. I mean, not every man gets to enjoy you fighters at first hand, so to speak....."
His words were coming in a torrent, the phrases almost falling over each other. He wasn't nervous, it just seemed to be his natural way of speaking. I continued to stand there, and he went on "So come on, Spike - don't keep me waiting, there's a good chap - take off that ridiculous singlet: In my country, it's so very working class to wear something like that anyway. And drop the shorts - you haven't got anything to be ashamed of, I'll bet...."
What the fuck was he going on about, "working class"? I still just stood there, and his voice hardened. "Now, Spike, I'm not used to being ignored! I wouldn't tolerate one of my servants at home not obeying me, and I certainly won't accept it from slave! So get naked, there's a good fellow, so I can decide where we're going to start."
He half turned away from me, as if he was perfectly certain that I was now going to do as I was told, and did as he'd asked, pulling the singlet thing (which I now knew was "working class", whatever that was!) over my head, and dropping my shorts o the floor. Without thinking, I "fluffed out" my dick from where it was stuck to my balls, and just stood there.
"Oh Spike, pick those things up and fold them, there's a good chap! I can't bear untidiness, with clothes strewn around everywhere. Nanny never let me do that as a child! 'Master James', she'd say, 'You just pick up your things, like a good little boy. And save Nanny's strength, little man.' And it's a habit that's lasted all my life - can't bear mess, cant stand untidiness... So clear your things up, old chap..."
I felt almsot foolish, bending down and feeling my dick and balls swinging as I retrieved my clothes an stood there folding them, watched by this curious stranger, dressed so formally, almsot eccentrically. Somehow it's different being naked when you're with clothed guys, isn't it?
"Right, Spike! And you are magnificent, believe me, I know, I've seen enough of you boys to be an expert! Now, help me undress, there's a good chap...."
He slipped his jacket off and handed it to me, and I stood there, looking at it. What the fuck was I supposed to do now?
"Fold it neatly, Spike, there's a good chap. And put it over there in the corner, where it will be out of our way."
I did as he said, too surprised to do anything else, I think, feeling the scratchy wool of the rough tweed all over my chest as I folded the jacket. I then watched as he hopped awkwardly from foot to foot, as you do, unlacing the brown leather shoes and pulling his socks off, which he tucked neatly into the shoes, then handed them to me - nodding over to the corner, where his jacket lay.
He undid his pants and let them drop, then kind of hooked them up with one foot, and simply handed them to me. I stood and watched him as he unbuttoned his shirt, then again handed it to me, just as if I was some sort of servant. I put all these things in the corner, too, and came back to the centre of the room to watch as he slid his boxers to the floor - the were in plain white cotton, with little union jacks on them, and he handed them to me as if it was the most normal thing in the world to expect another guy to take charge of your underwear!
He had a nice body - not strong and muscular, like mine, but he was by no means fat. There was a small thatch of hair on his chest, which led to a faint treasure trail down to what I can only describe as "normal" pubes, which made no attempt to conceal a long-ish dick, and very low-hanging balls. He was a couple of inches taller than me, I suppose, and this height seemed to emphasise how thin he was.
"Right, Spike. Let's start...."
"Start what, .....sir?"
"Oh let's not be formal, Spike. You can just call me James. Everyone does. Except Nanny, and she's always called me master Jamie, but that's all in the past. James to you, Spike. So let's get started, shall we?"
"Start what, .... James?"
"Oh, didn't they tell you. How silly of them. I'm a specialist trainer hired to teach you sex. You've been selected for the second channel, didn't they tell you?"
"Yes."
"Well you'll know then that you have to be able to put on a good show.... It's not just the fighting they pay all those monthly fees to receive... And a lot of you guys are simply hopeless! No idea! No idea at all! So the Colonel had the brilliance to hire proper training, just as he does for fighting. Very clever man, the Colonel - no wonder Gleeson's Gladiators is so successful."
He was running on again, the words tumbling out. So I interrupted "But what sort of a show...."
"You haven't seen it? You don't know...?"
"No."
"Well, on the second channel, you always 'fight to the fuck'. They used to say that the show wasn't over until the fat lady sings. Well, on the second channel, the fight isn't over until one of the fighters has fucked the other - that 's the way the audience knows that one guy is totally and utterly defeated. And it's no good putting up a good fight, and winning, if you're really useless at fucking, is it? So that's why I'm here - I see all the new gladiators who have been selected for the second channel, and teach them how to do the last few minutes of the match with the same style and dedication that they've done the first part. It all matters, you know - the viewers aren't just paying to see two men pound each other into submission - they want to see really classy action when it comes to the fucking!"
"You can't be serious..."
"Oh Spike, why not? Did you ever think that you'd be a slave, fighting other slaves as a spectator sport? So why do you think it's unusual to take it further, make the fighting really serious, and have a spectacular ending to the bout? It's only natural, after all - every man secretly wants to beat every other one so that he can fuck him! That's what human evolution has given us - men need to win, to dominate, and to show their dominance by having the other man totally submit to them. And what better way to show total submission, than to fuck the guy, especially when he's lost out in a fight and is totally unable to resist?"
I stood there, shocked. It was all starting to make sense now, the whispers and hints I'd heard. But there was something wrong about what James was saying, something that I couldn't quite put my finger on.
"No, that can't be right..... not all men want to fuck other men..."
"Yes they do, Spike. It's only natural. Think about it - in the dawn of man, a woman would always be pregnant and a man wouldn't be able to satisfy himself for quite long periods. And the men went away from the village for long periods, hunting. So what would be more natural than to have sex with another man? It's just that our silly veneer of civilisation, and the lies put around by the churches in particular, that have obscured all this. In a way, you going out there into the arena and fighting an opponent until he's overpowered, and then fucking him, is just reverting to the way nature intended things to happen.
They weren't so stupid in Greek and Roman times, I'll tell you - captured prisoners were truly spoils of war, and were used by the victorious armies as slaves and sex objects. We're only just getting back to basics now, in this current war. Now, let's start. Get down on your knees...."
"What?"
"Spike, I don't like to remind you of this, but you are a slave. And I am a free man. And if you persist in disobedience, I can order you to be caned, or flogged. There's a guard listening to the sounds in this room via a microphone, and I only have to call out, and that will be that. Now, I sense that , like a lot of men of your class, you're embarrassed about sex. So I'm here to teach you - you have lessons in fighting, don't you, and you don't think anything about that? Well, this is a lesson is sex, as I said, so that you perform as well at the end of the bout as you do during it. So on your knees, there's a good chap - let's make this as much fun for each of us as we can, without the need for any punishments...."
"James, what is all this, this 'class'.... And why are you here, an Englishman?"
"Spike, I hope this isn't a delaying tactic, because it won't work, you know. But I'll tell you anyway - you're like a lot of the young men that I go with in England: you went to an ordinary school, don't do all that well, and leave early. Then you got some sort of job that doesn't require much skill, or go into the armed forces for a short time - no as an officer, of course, until you got bored, then they come out and get what you Americans call 'blue collar' jobs, working as labourers or what have you. And the whole culture in the lower ranks of the forces, and on construction sites, and so on is of rampant heterosexuality - boasting to the other men about the women you've shagged. And any man who dares to mention that he likes proper sex, sex with another man, gets beaten up or constantly harassed. For the upper classes it's all different, of course: at my private school - we call them public schools, but you Americans find that confusing - it's been the tradition of centuries that older boys take their pleasure with the younger ones. And many Englishmen in the moneyed and professional classes simply marry for convenience, to produce an heir or two to keep the family name going, but take their pleasure with other men. Indeed, it's quite the done thing in the circles in which I move to 'have a bit of rough on the side', as we call it - one of these working men, with hard, strong bodies, who are only too keen to have a little uninhibited proper sex in exchange for a drink, a dinner, or even a few pounds."
"So we get very experienced at 'breaking in' young working-class chaps like you - poorly educated, but nice strong bodies. And it's not so hard - you respect us and are used to being ordered around (especially if you've been in the armed forces, rather than just labouring). So I do this as a little hobby, really - when I'm over here in the USA, I telephone a number of my contacts and I can always find someone with a new slave who needs educating properly. Us British are used to gong to far-flung parts of the world and educating the natives, you know - and all I'm doing is following a long tradition."
"But enough of this, Spike: I don't want to have to call out and get the guards in here. So get down on your knees, there's a good chap, and let's get started....."
I didn't know if he was joking! I mean, it sounded so bizarre. But there was something about his manner that said he was sincere. And he had that air of authority about him that comes from a lifetime of being used to being obeyed - I'd met it before with those officers who are from army families, who go through West Point and all that shit. They just have an attitude that doesn't allow for any argument or debate: authority is somehow built in to them. Almost without knowing why, I lowered myself to my knees, clasped my hands behind my back, as that seemed to be the "right" thing to do, and waited to see what would happen.
James came and stood right in front of me, so that his dick was almost in my face. "Good boy, Spike", he whispered, lowering his voice in that way that somehow seemed to make the bleak, empty room somehow more private. "Now we'll start nice and slowly.... I want you to get the proper scent of me, then, when you're comfortable with it, you can use that strong tongue of yours to start to lick me and get the proper taste of a man's dick...."
As he said this he put his hands around my head and gently but firmly, in a way that brooked no resistance, pulled my head down into his crotch. His wiry pubic hair scratched gently at my face, and as my nose nestled into the warm moistness of his dick and sac, I caught the smell of him - a rich, exotic scent of what was presumably a very expensive soap, but overlaid on that was something else: warm and musky and exciting and totally male. I felt his dick begin to stir as it went from its flaccid state to being semi-hard, and almost as if in response, I knew that I too was getting erect. This was madness! Here I was, getting turned on by another man's dick and the smell of his masculinity: I wasn't like that! I mean, fucking a guy when you really need to, as I had done in almsot in spite of myself, is one thing; but being turned on my just the feel of another man's dick against you is quite another.
His firm grip continued to hold my head close to him. Of course I could have pulled away - it might have meant being punished, but there was no way that this lanky Englishman could stop my hard, powerful body if I chose to move. But somehow I didn't - I stayed there, breathing in his scent and rubbing my nose backwards and forwards all over his crotch. He continued to get erect, and this somehow seemed to excite me even more - I knew I was now also fully boned, and the feeling of his dick against my face was like nothing I had ever felt before: the warmth of it, the velvety softness of the skin on his dick, and yet, underlying all that, the iron-like hardness of his erection. I half sighed, half moaned, and I heard him encourage me. "Good boy, Spike.... That's good, isn't it.... Now why don't you put that tongue of yours out and taste me....?"
To my surprise, I found myself doing as he'd said. I ran my tongue lightly and experimentally along the smooth, hard shaft of his dick, then kind of probed around at the root of it, poking in and out of the join with his sac and savouring that special taste of the sweat that is always there - I'd read somewhere that there are more sweat glands down there than anywhere else on the body, and that they are responsible for the male pheromones: well, now I knew what it had been going on about - I was tasting the essence of his manhood.
James' firm hands pushed my head away from him after a little while, then, as I looked up at him, wondering why, he used one hand to grip the root of his dick and position it so that the head - which had come out from its protective foreskin and was glistening with moistness - was just in front of my lips. I pushed my head back, not difficult to do in spite of the pressure of his hand - and muttered "No, please...."
"Yes, Spike. You need a thorough training, and it's better to begin at the beginning, with you learning to enjoy a man's cock. Now be a good chap, and take me into your mouth...."
He didn't give me time to argue, and he expected obedience. As he pulled me forward again I did indeed open my mouth, and felt his flange push my lips apart.
"Careful with the teeth, Spike!", he said softly. "Open wide, and take me right in...."
He stopped with his dick head just inside my mouth, and cautiously I probed at it with my tongue, somehow actually enjoying the slightly salt taste of the moistness of it. I could actually sense his piss slit, and although I thought that I ought to have been revolted, I found myself almost liking it. It was as if my body knew instinctively what to do - I kept my teeth apart but clamped my lips shut around his shaft, and began to rock my head backwards and forwards, allowing his dick to almsot come out of my mouth, then slide back in again.
"Good boy, Spike. Good boy....", he crooned, and somehow this sign of his approval spurred me on: I began to suck at him more vigorously, my own spit sliding down onto my chin as I did so, and I heard myself making little moans of enjoyment.
He stopped me then, and pulled his dick right out. "Good, Spike. Very good progress for a man whose records say he hasn't sucked cock before.... Or have you been practising, with some of your room mates?"
"No, James! I don't suck dick..."
"You mean you used not to, Spike! You do now..... And it wasn't so bad, was it? Indeed, I think we're making such good progress that we might go all the way.... But I'll go easily the first time.... I take it you haven't actually tasted cum, apart from your own? Well, with you boys I suppose it's always worth checking - you have tasted at least your own cum, haven't you?"
Well, I had, as I guess all guys do. Just after you start jerking off, you're tempted to try it, aren't you? I can remember now how I felt, lying there in my bed at home, breathing hard after I'd jerked off, then bringing my cum-filled hand up to my mouth and gingerly putting out my tongue to taste it.... But I'd never repeated the experience. And of course I'd never even dreamed of having to take another guy's cum.
"Yes.... Well, no.....", I muttered uneasily,
James' hand stroked the side of my face, as if he was comforting me. "Don't worry, Spike! I've had lots of first-timers, like you.... And, believe me, it will be all right. Now you're not afraid, are you? A big guy like you - you're not afraid of a few drops of cum? Tell me, Spike, if you're afraid - are you scared of what's going to happen?"
Well, I couldn't admit to being scared, could I? I mean, I was a marine - or had been, until they'd made me a slave. And anyway, a man never tells another man he's scared, does he? So I kind of mumbled "No way. Of course I'm not scared."
"Good, Spike. So put out your tongue, and just stay still. Close your eyes, if you want, and let me do all the work...."
I did as he said, and felt really stupid kneeling there with my tongue lolling out. I couldn't close my eyes - I mean, you need to know what's happening to you, don't you? He stood there, resting the tip of his dick on my tongue, and stroking himself to a climax with his long, thin fingers. It only took a few moments, I suppose, as he was evidently very aroused from having me lick at him earlier. I got a salty taste of "something" - oh no, it must be his pre-cum.... And instinctively I went to pull away, but his hands went around my head, he pulled me suddenly close to him so that his dick slid into my mouth, and I felt it fell with something.
He let go, and I pulled away, and my mouth was full of his cum. I could taste that "nothing" taste, faintly sweet, faintly salt. My nose was full of its vaguely ammoniacal smell, though, and as I half-wretched and gagged, and my tongue moved around in my mouth I felt it's slimy stickiness covering my teeth and gums. I knelt there, not knowing what to do. James pulled my head down into his crotch again so that his deflating dick was rubbing against my cheek - I could smell his male animal scent even more strongly now, and it was somehow reassuring. He ran his hands lightly over my head, encouraging me, and murmured "There, Spike... .that wasn't so bad, was it? Your first taste of man cum.... See, it doesn't kill you, or anything... There wasn't anything to be afraid of, was there?"
I felt his hands on my then, gently helping me to my feet so that we stood facing each other. He put his arms around me and pulled me towards him, reaching down to my butt and tightening his grip. My erect dick was forced upwards, to lie between our bellies, and then, to my utter amazement, he leaned forward and kissed me! I suppose it a the shock, but I opened my mouth, and at once his tongue darted inside and started to beat vigorously against mine. His cum was now mixed with his saliva, and we stood there for what seemed like hours, but was probably less than a minute, kissing passionately.
He pulled away, and I saw he was smiling. "See, Spike... It's only cum. There's nothing to be worried about. I like to kiss a guy when his mouth is full of my cum... And you'll get to like it, too."
"James, why.... Why are we doing this? I thought you were to teach me about how to behave at the end of a bout, when I need to fuck a guy. Why have I got to learn about eating cum, and kissing, and sucking dick?"
"Oh Spike! Think about it - when you were taught in the marines to fight, did they teach you just one way, just one set of holds? Or did you learn how to comprehensively overcome another man, using different blows, different ways of doing it?"
"Yes, of course...."
"Well it's the same with me. You need to be a 'whole man', really able to respond to another man properly. And you don't just need to learn how to fuck another man, either: you will lose, sometimes, and then you'd better know how to take it, don't you think? So I like to start simple, teach you the basics, and then we'll move on to more complex things one step at a time. I could just have you tied down to a punishment frame and fuck the innards out of you, I suppose, but that wouldn't be much fun for either of us, would it? No, we're going to do this calmly, one step at a time, so that you not only learn how to do it, but to appreciate it!"
"Now, help me dress....", he said in that commanding way that brooked no discussion, and I went over to the corner and began to hand him his clothes, one item at a time. It struck me again that I was now obeying him almost automatically, but I was so confused: it wasn't just the threat of punishment, it wasn't that he'd dumped his cum in my mouth.... It was again that innate sense of "control" that he had.
He stood there finally, plucking at the cuffs of his shirt so that they protruded just half an inch below the sleeves of his jacket, then said cheerily "Right then, Spike. Get dressed yourself - unless you'd prefer to give that cock of yours some relief first?"
I realised I was still rigorously erect, and that my dick had been bobbing up and down as I'd moved around helping him. I shook my head, but as I went to pull on the tiny shorts, I almost wished I had - there was a drool of pre-cum hanging down from my piss slit, and I knew that it would probably show through my shorts as I went about my business that morning.
Back in our room that night, after a lot of strenuous exercise for the rest of the day that left me feeling properly exhausted, I saw Lewis looking at me inquisitively. "So, Spike.... OK?"
"Yes, sarge."
"Lesson went well, did it?"
I felt myself blushing gently as I muttered "OK, I guess, sarge."
"Good, Spike. Well, if you need any practice, before tomorrow, or after any of the lessons, we're all here to help you, you know.... Especially me. Do you want to practice with me, Spike?"
I was blushing hard now. I did want to fuck his ass, but there was just no way that I could take his dick. But I could hardly say that, could I - say that I wanted, no, needed, to fuck, after my lesson in being used.... not with all the other guys listening and watching. So I just stood there, shook my head slightly, and muttered "No, thanks, sarge. It's OK."
Mind you, the moment I was in my bunk, I just had to jerk off: no waiting for "lights out" or anything, I just went at it, just covered by the thin sheet. And then, experimentally and haltingly, almsot as if I was afraid of it, I raised my cum-filled palm to my mouth and licked it dry.
End of Part 13