Gladiator Tag

Being out of work sucks. I looked around the small room I’d called home for a couple of years, sighed, shoved the last couple of things into my backpack and made for the door. I was now officially homeless. In my pocket was the last of my savings, not enough even for another month’s rent – especially if I wanted to eat as well. I had no real plan, I just knew I had to get out of the city and find somewhere I could sleep and eat while I hunted up something, anything, that would pay me a wage.

The coach dropped me off at the bus station and I collected my pack and tried to look as if I knew where I was going. I didn’t – this was a strange town, completely foreign to me, but far enough away from where I’d started out to be able to be sure the reasons for losing my last job weren’t going to catch up with me soon. 

Bus stations are always “downtown” and the buildings and streets around me didn’t exactly scream prosperity here. So I started up the most likely looking street checking the stores and businesses as I went. By chance my eye caught a flyer attached to the traffic light pole. It read – “Looking for something different? Are you adventurous enough to try a team sport with a difference? Accommodation and training provided. Call Dave at 0771 6770 666.” It added that accommodation and meals were provided for the successful applicants. 

Quickly I noted the number and then looked for a callbox, spotting one a little down a side street. With my heart racing I dialled the number and waited in a sweat of impatience for someone to answer. 

At the fourth ring a voice with the kind of timbre to it that reaches into your guts and twists them, said, “Hi, this is Dave.”

“Er, hi, Dave, I mean, sir. Look, I’ve just seen your flyer downtown near the bus station, and I was wondering if the job was still open?”

He chuckled, again sending a shiver of desire down my spine. God, what was happening? I hadn’t ever experienced this before with any of my former lovers and I didn’t even know this guy. “Feeling adventurous are you? OK, we’ll take a look at you and see. Where are you now?”

I told him the street name and the address on the phone box. In response to his question I gave him my name and the fact that I had just arrived on the coach – and what had brought me to this city.

“OK. Go back to Main and walk about three blocks north. You’ll see a corner café named Dougies Place. Go there and tell them Dave is collecting you. If you’re hungry, order something – I’ll pay for the food when I meet you.”

“Thanks,” I managed. 

“Good, I’ll talk to you when I see you there.”

The café wasn’t that far and I slipped inside rather glad that I had freshened myself up at the bus station, using their showers for a quick clean-up and shave. Just inside I stopped and stared around me. The place screamed Gay. The décor was tasteful, the staff neatly dressed, but the pictures on the walls, the lighting and the discreet booths all suggested that its clientele were not the usual hetero crowd. Nervously I approached the counter.

“Good evening, sir.” The young man behind the till greeted me with a warm smile and an appraising look. “May I help you?”

I nodded. “I hope so. I’m here to meet someone called Dave. I just spoke to him on the phone and he said to order something and wait here for him.”

The young man’s eyebrows rose and his grin widened. “Yes, he rang and said to look out for you. So you’ve answered his ad have you?” He came round the counter and gathered a menu. “This way.”

Leading me to the staircase he took me upstairs and then to a booth in the front corner where I could look out onto the street. “Dave said to make sure you got a good meal. He’ll be here shortly.” He handed me the menu and said, “Care for something to drink?”

“Thanks, yes. Could I have a large glass of apple juice?” I glanced at the menu. It held delicacies I hadn’t eaten in months and my stomach growled. “What do you recommend?”

He grinned. “Nervous? Or just hungry?”

“Both.” I returned his grin. “Do you know what this team sport is all about?”

He nodded. “Yup. But if I told you all the details Dave would be annoyed and I can’t have that. He’ll explain it to you himself when he gets here. Tell you what, I’ll bring you a starter and a steak. How do you like it?”

“Rare.” My reply was automatic. “I just hope this job is legit, I’m pretty damned desperate.”

He laughed. “It’s legit. Don’t worry, and Dave’s a good guy to work for, and he’s the owner of a Tag Gladiator Club. You’ll be OK. In fact I’ll lay a bet right now that you’ll fit right in and love it.” He hesitated, eyeing me over “Like I said, you’ll fit right in.”

I’d heard of this new ‘sport’, but only rumours, and then only in certain Gay Clubs and bars — the ones frequented by leathermen, rubber men and bondage lovers. It had sounded intriguing, but I’d not given it a lot of thought. For one thing none of the people I’d known ever mentioned it.

I had just finished the steak when a shadow fell across the table and a well-built man in his late thirties slipped into the seat opposite.  I was glad of my tight leather thong as his scent, appearance and sheer presence washed over my senses. His voice sent a shiver through me as he said, “Hi Pat, I’m Dave.” 

Our eyes locked and he grinned as I stammered a response.

“Enjoyed the meal? Great.” He paused as the waiter brought him a salad and a coffee and placed a dessert and a refill of the juice in front of me. “I’ll cut to the chase. This position has a number of perks, but it needs someone who is Gay, willing to submit yourself to a Top, and totally committed to the game, and happy to engage in sexual games.” His eyes, a deep penetrating blue, locked on mine. “Do you think you can meet those criteria?”

I held his gaze, my stomach turning to jelly and my legs and arms refusing to function. “Well, I’m Gay. I guess that’s a start. And I’m desperate for a job, so I’m willing to try anything – no matter what it is.” My pulse was racing. This guy was doing things to my hormones that had me sweating. He asked a lot more questions and I spilled my story. It’s a fairly common one for guys like me. Tangled with the wrong sexual partner, a homophobic boss and getting caught in a honey trap …

He laughed. “I guessed as much. And quite a story, one I hear a lot from guys like you.  OK, if you’re game, I’m willing to give you a try-out. Finish your meal and we’ll head out to my place. If you like what I’m proposing, and you take the contract I’ll offer, I’ll guarantee you won’t regret it.” He paused. “I’m looking for someone to join my Tag Gladiators stable. It means committing yourself to me and my club completely for the contract term, and it means being willing to submit to bondage sex.” He watched my reaction. “Interested? The rewards are good — especially if you make a ‘star’ player-“

The proposal was straight forward. I would commit myself to the ‘ownership’ of the Club as a player in the Tag Gladiatorial Game. I’d get training, plenty of gym, swimming, healthcare and, of course, participation in “The Game”. 

“If you take the job, I own you for the next five years. You’ll be required to provide sexual partnership from time to time for me, but you’ll also be free to form a relationship with anyone in the team. In fact I encourage that.”

I swallowed. “So I will be committing myself to being a sub-slave?”

“More or less, but you’ll be paid well — the bulk of the money will go into a trust deposit, and you’ll have generous pocket money, and when you want out of the contract after it has run for a minimum of two years, you’ll get everything owed to you plus the interest.” He paused, his gaze holding mine. “You’ll have free time, the freedom to form relationships with anyone you fancy in the stable, and the liberty to go out to do whatever you like when not required for training or a match.”

“Sounds, good.” I paused. “But what is this game? How’s it played?” I hesitated again. “And ‘bondage sex’? You mean I have to submit to someone?”

“Tag Gladiators is a six a side game similar to soft ball, and played on a court of the same size. The difference is the five active players have to try to attach up to five ‘tags’ to the other side’s ‘target’ player — or to slip a butt plug into him. Each player has one plug and five ‘tags’, and must also try to prevent the other team attaching their tags to your own team’s ‘target’ or plugging him.” Dave grinned. “The target is locked between two uprights. He has some movement, but not a lot. The tags have to be attached to his pouch — they’re magnetic and the pouch is steel lined. His team have to try to keep the other side getting close enough to tag him.”

“Scoring is simple. Each ‘tag’ attached earns five points, and the team with the most points at the end of two twenty minute ‘halves’ is the winner. Inserting a plug — called the Golden Plug — into the target gains an instant ‘win’ and the Team get to enjoy the losers in a bondage dungeon and scene of their choice.” He leaned back. “Want to try it?”

My mouth dry in nervous anticipation, I nodded. “It sounds like real fun. What happens to the target if he gets plugged?”

“You can wind up as a sperm bank if your lose too often. The winners all get to fuck him — at both ends.” Dave told me. “Think you can handle it? If you can’t I’ll give you a one off payment and pass you along to someone else looking for a different worker.”

I thought about it. The bondage sex appealed to me — it was what had got me into trouble in my home town, and the money sounded very good. If it didn’t work out, well, at least I might walk away with enough to set myself up somewhere else. “I think I’d like to see how it works, and perhaps try it. I think I can enjoy it …”

“Fair enough.” Dave paused. “First though, I’ll introduce you to Clive, my Team Coach. Once you’ve seen what it is like, we can talk contract.”

The arena was a large enclosure with tiered seating rising above the enclosing wall. Dave explained that entry was definitely by ticket only, and tickets were only available to people with known credentials and the recommendation of other ‘members’. 

“There are several clubs around the country,” he told me. “And each club runs at least two ‘teams’ and reserves.”

“So five guys trying to get at or behind a ‘target’?”

“Yup.” He explained about the tags and the scoring again. “If they can get a ‘golden’ butt plug into the other sides ‘target’, that’s it — game over and maximum score.”

“What if they can’t plug the target?”

“Then whoever’s ‘target’ has the most tags at the end of play, loses.” He went on to explain that the ‘target’ wore a special hood that gagged him and restricted his vision, and had a limited range of movement as he was tethered by the ankles and wrists to the ‘goal’ posts. It was a lot more tactical than I thought, with any number of defensive and offensive ‘plays’.

At this time of day the seating was empty, but the arena itself was busy with men in all sorts of gear, leather, rubber, lycra and even metal, running through a variety of routines. These included gymnastics, bondage, wrestling and some sort of ‘tag’ event at the far end.

Clive led me toward the tag players and said, “You can start off with these guys. The object is to attach as many tags as you can to your opponents’ target. As you can see, he’s restrained that prevents him moving too much to avoid being tagged or plugged.” 

I noted the way the ‘target’ was restrained and got my first good look at the ‘brand’ that would be adorning my right butt cheek. The tattoo was a circle of chain links with manacle cuffs radiating out of it and a magnificently detailed erect circumcised penis and balls superimposed.

“The target with the most tags attached to him after two halves of twenty minutes goes on the fucking bench in the winner’s locker room for half an hour.” He grinned. “Some guys get to like it, but, remember getting plugged means the whole team gets to submit, so you have to play hard to get.” He grinned. “Each member of the team gets to be the ‘target’ on a rotational basis.” He grinned. “It pays to keep each other sweet!”

I watched for a bit, taking in the fact that the players wore a harness, with a hefty jock style pouch, but open rear. The harness, boots and full hoods, with knee length boots and very pliable soles, giving them a good grip of the surface. The hood was the team colour and looked heavy and more restrictive. Made of thick rubber, it had lenses covering their eyes and a sort of ‘snout’ evidently covered a breathing filter. The ‘targets’ both wore heavy sets of chains attached to their wrists and ankles and attached them to a pair of posts. They could dodge within limits to avoid being tagged or plugged, while their team mates tried to obstruct their opponents and shield the target.

As we watched the Red team mounted a determined attack. The Blue team blocked, but the attack was well executed and two Red players got to the target. Both managed to snap tags to his pouch, but then a third, anticipating the target’s attempt to fall back, slipped in low and between two defenders. A whistle blew as the plug went into the target’s butt as he staggered.

“Damn, that was a good play.” Dave grinned. “Think you can cut it?”

I stared at the players, and the plugged Target as he was freed from the posts. The Red team were obviously looking forward to their winner’s reward. Slowly I nodded. “Yeah, I could do that. Do I get any training?” I grinned. “And I don’t mean in the sexual stuff …”

Dave laughed. “I was pretty sure you would. Yes, you’ll get training, I’ll put Clive onto it immediately. Let’s go to my office and go over the contract.”

It didn’t take that long to go over his offer, my pay, the terms and conditions, and for me to sign the contract. It looked and sounded good, I’d be well paid, housed in the compound, given gym training, athletic training, healthcare, food and, by the sound of it, a lot of sex. In return I had to submit to having my body hair removed, my head shaved and a tattoo on my right butt cheek. Finally, dressed in the same harness I’d seen the other players wearing, I met Clive, the Coach. The pouch was a snug fit, and very rigid and heavy.

“Time to introduce you to the tag team.” Clive was grinning from ear to ear. “Enjoying that?”

I nodded. To my own surprise I did.

“Good. Now we’ve got a hood for you. Stand over here so we can fit it.” He grinned as he lifted the heavy moulding in his hands. “Ready? It’s got some special features and it’s a little tradition we have for newbies. The guys have lubed it specially for you. Shut your eyes so I can fit it. You need to keep your mouth open and I need to insert the nostril tubes for you as well.”

It was lubed alright – with spunk. In fact it was thickly coated with spunk. I found my mouth filled by a large rubber penis and tubes in my nostrils obviously contained filters of some sort. The biggest surprise was that my eyes were now covered by tinted lenses. The fastenings down the back pulled it tight to my spunk coated head and the collar locked with a decided ‘clunk’. This wasn’t coming off anytime soon, that much was obvious. When I sucked on the gag I got a mouthful of spunk as well.  

Clive laughed as I tested my ability to move my head and see through the lenses. “All the tag players wear these. The spunk coating is a ‘welcome’ to you as a new fuck-buddy. The lenses allow you to see the opponents team colour, your own will show as black. They also restrict vision a little, so you can see only ahead. Here, take a look in this mirror, you look like an absolute wet dream in that outfit.”

I turned as he indicated and found myself staring at a full length reflection. My cock strained in its prison as I looked – I was a fucking wet dream come true! The harness enhanced my physique, the boots didn’t restrict my walking and gave my feet a firm grip. They looked incredible, and the shiny polished rubber over the steel of the codpiece looked as restrictive as it felt. Cuffs on my wrists indicated I was under someone else’s control. 

The hood, though, was incredible. It gave me a sort of snout, with filters for breathing which hid the fact that I was gagged. The eye lenses were mirror finish so my eyes could not be seen and the whole fitted tightly over my head, moulding to it closely. The collar securing it on me was reinforced with a polished steel band encircling the heavy rubber and the lock behind my left ear was integral. But there heavy steel loops attached at four points around it suggested that at some point I could expect to be chained to something or someone.

Clive moved behind me and slid his arms around my midriff, pulling me close and pressing his hefty codpiece into my butt crack strap. He said softly, “Like it?”

I grunted through the gag and nodded.

He laughed, giving me a hug. “Good. Just remember, Dave is our Master – and he gave me control over you for the time being.” He chuckled. “I forgot, Targets get their butts lubed to make plugging them easier. We’ll leave that for the moment!”

My training began immediately, and was pretty intense. I learned to play all the positions, the ‘captain’ playing ‘Centre’, then two ‘Flankers’, then behind the front row, two ‘Defenders’ and, of course, the Target. We didn’t use names, couldn’t anyway when playing as we were all gagged, and even when we weren’t, we just used the numbers we were assigned in the Stable. Mine was 18, and for the moment I was a ‘reserve’.

Whenever I was on the court, Dave was there. After team practice, and my shower, he often looked for me. When I was swimming, he frequently joined me — and made his interest in me gently obvious. Hell, I wasn’t exactly disinterested in him. He intrigued me, and he was certainly good to look at. The fact he could have had any of the guys in his bed as a lover, made his slowly, softly, approach to me all the more curious, something the guys joked about and teased me for. They didn’t let it inhibit their having sex with me, or me having sex with them, especially after a good game.  

The game was fun, even with the restricted vision. The trick was to draw the defence so one of your players could attach the ribbons to the codpiece to the other team’s target. The rules with the plugs were a little more tricky. You only got one go at it. If the plug missed, or dropped, that was it. A member of the defending team could block an attempt by imposing himself between the Target and the attacker. Once the plug went into someone not the target, it was ‘lost’ and couldn’t be retrieved, but the receiver had to retain it, and a substitute took his place. 

I quickly got the hang of the tactics and the rules, which included no hitting, kicking or grasping an opponents harness or pouch. You could block with your body, grip an arm to prevent attaching a tag, or attach your own tags if the opportunity served. You could also ‘capture’ an opponents tags to prevent their use, but this wasn’t easy and risked a penalty since the ‘tags’ were clipped to your own harness close to your chastity codpiece and one slip could get you a penalty for grappling an opponent’s genitals. 

Two referees and four ‘linesmen’ ensured that the rules were followed. It was actually great fun, and played in the assurance that, win or lose, everyone got some great sex afterward. Games lasted a maximum of forty minutes and then you had an hour between to rest, be refreshed and enjoy your ‘reward’ — or be the ‘reward’..

At the start of each game, the players were linked together by short chains attached to their collars and their wrists attached to the waist of the harness of the guy in front of you. The lead guy was always the target, with his wrists manacled behind him and the heavy set of slave chains linked to his ankles and neck made moving difficult. Once the Target’s wrists and ankles were attached to the target posts, the others would be released from each other and the game commenced.

In my first few games I managed to get several of my tags attached to the opponents target, lost two in a tackle and captured three myself. I’d also got to enjoy — in fact to look forward to — the post game sex. When we won, we got to enjoy our opponents, and when they won … let’s just say, it generally finished up as the best kind, for me, of orgy.

“Said you were a natural for this, Eighteen,” Dave smiled as we filed out after winning our game. “You guys agree? He’s a good buy for the team?”

A chorus of grunts and nods from the gagged team, replied. I’d managed to score a plug in this one and the team were looking forward to enjoying our ‘prize’. Our opponents had been a group of gorgeous studs, and their ‘target’ a particularly good looking individual.

“I think you should show him your appreciation of his first Plug score.” Dave grinned. “A good dose of his favourite team mates, I think.” 

Suddenly I was surrounded by the others. Dave grinned as they lifted me off my feet and carried me into our dressing room. It took them no time at all to insert me into the stocks. I laughed into my gag as they lubed my butt, then braced myself for the first cock. I sucked hard on the rubber penis in my mouth as my butt was penetrated by a large cock.

“Congratulations, Eighteen, I knew you would be a star!” Dave growled into my ear. 

He was followed by Clive, then the team and finally the reserve player. Then they plugged me. Releasing me, they helped me up, and once the hood mask had been replaced by one with an open lower face, everyone was congratulating me.

I flexed my butt, enjoying the feel of the plug as it stirred the spunk inside me. “Thanks, guys. Do I get this every time I score a plug?”

Dave laughed, his arms slipping round my waist in a possessive manner. “You better count on it!”

I grinned, pressing myself against his bulge. “Thanks, Boss. I certainly will.”

Dave laughed. “Okay guys, your trophies are waiting for you. Enjoy yourselves, and the rest of the evening, that was your last game for today!”

The guys cheered as we headed for the ‘dungeon’ and our trophy ‘victims’.

 Our mounting success soon got out, and we found ourselves attracting more fans. Not that we always won, but we did have a reputation for good, exciting, play. The audience was noticeably larger on this occasion, since there was a lot at stake for us, and for our opponents. Our handler reminded us gently that our opponents had to win this one, just as we did, because, like us, they were four games down for the League. Whichever team lost would be spending the rest of the day in the customer ‘pens’ and being fucked for the clients’ enjoyment. As I was the target this time I had to hope my teammates were as keen as I was to win!

Our opponents were good. After fifteen minutes I had seven tags on my pouch, while their target had only five. I’d also managed to avoid four attempts to get a plug into me. They started another push. I dodged three attempts, and my team mates maintained the block, preventing anyone getting close. I dodged another attempt, just missing it as a defender knocked the guy off his aim. But, as he hadn’t actually touched me with it, his plug remained in play. The ref’s whistle blew and suddenly the opponents were falling back. Now my team went into overdrive and by the final whistle our opponent’s target had seven tags to my seven.

The referees went into a huddle. “Penalty decider. Targets will remain fixed to the posts, each team member on each side will attempt to attach one tag to the target in one minute while blindfold.” He paused. “Red have one plug still in play, and Blue have two. If the penalty tags don’t decide this, each team may attempt to use the remaining plugs. Teams to penalty position!”

Each team lined up in front of their opponents’ target and the linesmen added to my restraints, securing me so that movement was now very restricted. The referees meanwhile covered each player’s lenses with a black rubber cover and turned them to face in the opposite direction to their targets so I found myself facing the backs of the Red team in front of me and with my own team on the far side of the pitch facing me. I hoped my guys had a good sense of direction and did my best to remain absolutely still to avoid making any sound.

It seemed to help, but the crowd seemed to be trying to guide the player toward us as well. The first guy missed me completely, the second found me by chance, with the help of the crowd, and attached his tag, the third managed to locate me as well. I steadied myself as the fourth started out and held my breath as he felt his way toward me, ever so slightly off to my right.  The crowd roared directions and encouragement, but with both ends shouting different directions I realized this would not help the player much either. 

Again, he would have missed, had he not sensed the warmth of my body as he passed close, but as he turned to reach for my pouch, the whistle blew and he was out of time. That left the last guy. This guy was good. He moved quickly to a position almost in front of me. Then waited, his body language suggesting he was trying to hear me or sense my position. I held my breath, but, just as I though he must be almost out of time, he inched forward, his arm outstretched, located me and then quickly found my pouch and snapped his tag to it.

The referees conferred. Then they walked to me and counted the tags. “Eleven,” called the first ref. They made their way to the far side and again counted. “Eleven.” 

The crowd went wild.

The referees conferred. “Blue Team have two plugs in play, Red Team have one. Blue team will make the first attempt, then Red, and then Blue may take the final attempt.”

I found myself facing the Red Team guy who’d attached the final tag. I hoped my team would get the first plug in! He didn’t … And now I faced the same guy who seemed able to sense my position. Damn, he really was good. He came forward, located my crotch, reached through my legs and … “Unph!”

The crowd went wild. Through it I heard the ref saying that Blue still had one more penalty in hand, and calling for silence. I heard the referee start the penalty, and the seconds ticked by … then the crowd erupted. 

The first ref called for silence and when the noise abated announced. “Since both teams are equal in points as well as in tags, and plugs, both teams will be taken to the arena dungeon and made available for members enjoyment.” He paused as an appreciative cheer went up from the crowd.

The crowd went wild and I stood still, wondering what lay in store as I was released, reattached to the team and then shuffled back to our holding chamber. It didn’t take long to find out.

My five teammates all got to fuck me, though each of them had a different way of having me. For all of them I remained chained or restrained in some way, only my butt being available to them. Each time got better and even though I was oozing their spunk by the time they had done, I was eager for more as I was led to a new position in the dungeon.

A new hood mask with an open tube gag warned me I was going to be doing a lot of sucking and then I was taken to the holding pen. I’ll say only that I lost count of the number of cocks I sucked or the number of times I was fucked. Not once did I manage to empty my own balls, the chastity device clamped over my cock and balls prevented it.

When Clive eventually fetched me and walked me back to the sleeping accommodation I was exhausted, but on a sexual high like I would never have believed possible. My butt oozed spunk, my face was covered in it, and I needed a good shower once Clive had freed me from the hood and the harness. 

He grinned, then wrapped his arms round me and gave me a kiss. “Get showered, Eighteen, then I’m to take you to the Boss.” He gripped my hardening cock. “He has plans to enjoy this, so don’t spoil it.”

I showered, taking care not to let myself get too excited, then let Clive fit me into a heavy straitjacket, a muzzle gag and followed him upstairs.

“Here he is, Boss. Our Star performer.”

Dave smiled. “So he is. Thanks, Clive, I’ll send for you if I need you.” He eyed me over. “Well, Pat? Any regrets concerning the contract?”

I shook my head.

He laughed. “I expect you’d like your balls emptied?”

I nodded, presenting my erection for his enjoyment.

“All in good time.” He led me to the huge bed. “Tonight I want to reward you. Tonight I want it to be a little special.” Tenderly he got me onto the bed and laid down. “You’ve been a real star, Pat. Your team mates think the world of you, and I … I think you’re more than special. Tonight I am going to enjoy giving you head, Pat, and hopefully a lot more.”

I lay back, and watched as he got to work. He knew exactly what he was doing, and did it well. Life was going to be a very interesting from here on in. As he set to work, I realised what I#d been ignoring in myself. I played best when I knew Dave was watching. That was it, I was playing for him. His approval, his attention, his …

I let myself go. Surrendered to his attentions. I wanted this to be the future. I wanted to be Dave’s lover, his … My ejaculation was enormous. My head swimming, I surrendered as he lay next to me, his arms around me, and I heard him whisper, “I want you to be my lover …”