Spoils of War

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