Gladiator Tag

Invitation Day

The team members gathered on the court around Dave and Clive.

“Good, you’re all here,” Dave greeted us. “I’ve something big to put to you all, something I think will increase our support.” He grimaced. “And our sponsorship income. But, and I want to be clear on this, you have to be on board and agree to it.”

A murmur of surprise greeted this. After all, under our Tag Gladiator Contracts, the ‘Team’ — meaning Dave in reality — ‘owned’ us. We lived in the accommodation in the Blue Jay Tag Gladiator gated community, we all worked in Dave’s companies, or for the Team Enterprise arm. Surely he could simply tell us what he wanted of us. Hell, our contracts even specified it.

He waited until the murmur ceased. “I know what you’re thinking, but this is potentially very different. I want to hold regular ‘Invitation Days’ for your fans. I want to invite your fans to come here, meet you in person, and, I hope, buy our merchandise, or our sponsors gear.”

I watched the other guys faces. Dave and I had discussed this several times. It kept coming up as a ‘request’ from subscribers to our e-zine, change the fans hoped, to be photographed with there favourite Gladiators. It would be a great supplement to our already steady sale of full size posters of members of the team in their game outfits, and of the Team as a group. We’d had to be careful about these due to various ‘modesty’ laws in different city states, and, of course, age restrictions on possession of imagery of a ‘sexual’ nature by minors. But, like subscriptions to the e-zine, that had been quite easy to comply with.

A big hit had been the introduction of our individual scores table, updated after every match, and a questions to the team section. Our Number 8, Ethan, a wizard with mathematics and stats, kept the individual scores for us, and each of us had, as a result, a ready reference to our performance in games. It was an interesting exercise, since each player ‘rested’ between matches, so we rarely played back to back games, more like every second or third.

Our individual scores were very good with two hundred and four match games a year and each Blue Jay Gladiator playing a minimum of two games a month, with every sixth game as the Target, we got plenty of action. I’d been very lucky in my team mates, always playing with some great guys who knew the tricks, shared the chances and, of course, stretched themselves to defend the Target. As I usually played as a Defender, it was often my job to intercept tags or plugs, which is why I’d scored so heavily on the plug intercepts. Just about the only way to do that effectively was to get between the attacking player and the Target, and I’d got quite good at it.

Rod, Team Number 5, and Cliff, number 10, were our ‘old men’, both on their second contracts, and both great fun on and off the court. Al and Willie, Numbers 7 and 4 were the ‘newbies’, both good looking, both keen, and both learning fast. Dave had a practice of ‘retiring’ a number when one of us left, and then re-issuing it after a year or so. It meant our numbers weren’t consecutive, but it also avoided confusion. Two numbers were never used, 1 and 2 — his and one he told us was ‘reserved’ for the guy who’d helped him get his first business started.

Eventually Rod stood up. “Dave, Master, you’ve always been damned fair to us, honouring our contracts, and then some. We’ll do this.” He grinned. “We’d have done it anyway if you’d ordered it, but this way at least we get to feel that we have a choice.” He looked round at the rest of us. “How do you want us to play it? Let the fans paw us? Maybe plug us? Or try to tag us?”

Dave held up a hand for silence. “Pat and I have talked this over a lot. No pawing, unless YOU allow it, and definitely no plugging. They can pose with you, they can try out the playing harness — provided they buy it — and they can try your training routines, but only what you guys decide is acceptable.” He nodded toward me. “Me, Coach and Pat will draw up the lists of fans we think will make a good list of invitees, then you guys can go over it and see. Meanwhile, I want you to think carefully about what sort of displays we put up, and who mans them. The Black Store shop will be open, of course, and we will invite some of our suppliers to attend and put out their own stands.”

When he invited discussion, there were a lot of ideas, but the general feeling was excitement and very positive. Walking back to the flat, Dave smiled. “Bruce suggests we have a ‘recruiting’ Booth. What do you think?”

“Good idea, Master,” I grinned. “You could find a replacement for some of us who’ve had too many pluggings.”

“Cheek.” He laughed. “Come to think of it …”

It took a lot of work, and a lot of setting up to get ourselves organised, but the day finally arrived, and the compound looked grand. We Gladiators dressed in our game harness and our hoods, though minus the gag and breathing mask, took our places at our assigned booths and prepared to meet our admirers and answer their questions.

Dave had been adamant on one thing. We were not ‘sex for hire’, and we were not to let anyone take liberties with us.

“I mean it, Team. You’re Tag Gladiators, and yes, you are dressed like wet dreams, and you all fuck like rabbits after a game … but you’re not fuck toys for the fans. Got it?”

“Yes, Master Dave,” we chorussed.

I hid my grin as I watched my lover, owner and Master doing the rounds of the guys. My butt was full of his last load, and I guessed probably at least half the other guys were in the same position of having their lovers ‘give them a dose’. The fans were all carefully selected from the hundreds of applications, and roughly a third of them were females! Dave finished his prep talk, and I stood up with the others as he wished us luck, and to enjoy ourselves.

He was right, we were ‘wet dreams’ to the fans. After all, our game uniform harness basically did little more than hold a reinforced neoprene pouch over our ‘tackle’ and provide attachment points for the ‘tags’ and a butt plug in its scabbard. The wide waist belt provided anchor points for the side straps that held the pouch in place, and for the suspender style upper harness. It left our butts exposed, with our registration tattoos exposed to scrutiny, and, of course, showed off the absence of body hair on any of us.

Dave slipped an arm around my waist. “Have I told you how sexy you look today?”

“Let me think, Master? You might have. Yes, I think you did, just before you filled me with your cum this morning …” I kissed him. Not many people know that a man’s cum is loaded with a hormone that is absorbed by the receiver, and which gives them a nice warm feeling of wellbeing. It’s also rather addictive if you get a lot of it — which I did. “I love it when you do.”

“Cheeky.” He returned the kiss. “You okay with the arrangements? Clive and I will circulate. If you need any help, just signal.”

“I will, beloved.” I grinned. “I should be fine — after all, I’m probably only going to be posing with a fan or two for a poster.”

“Okay, but remember you’ve got the booth where they can try on the uniform and pose in it. There’s a lot of potential for claims of assault.”

“Yup.” I paused. “That’s why we’ll be three of us and we’ll be recording everything — and they’ll be told we are.”

He grinned. “I should have guessed you’d have thought it through. Off you go then. Who’s with you?”

“Rod - Five and Willie, our new Number Four.”

Releasing me, he laughed. “Chucking him in at the deep end, huh? Okay, off you go and enjoy yourself.” He walked away, blowing me a kiss. “The first visitors are here already.”

I’m not sure what I expected the fans to be like in the flesh, but they surprised me. There were a number of older men and younger partners, and, while they were obviously excited, some were also nervous. The majority were also very respectful, despite our being in our game outfits and legally 'slaves'. The first visitors to our station were nervous about dressing in the Gladiator harness, even though they clearly wanted to try it. Both were good looking young men, and Rod put them at their ease with humour and his friendly manner.

Handing them over to me to get rigged up, he told them, “Number 18 will sort out the kit and tell you how to wear it.”

“Sure, Five. Come on, guys, we have some fitting booths back here.” They followed, and I explained about the recorders and why they were there, giving them the chance to back out. They didn’t.

“Okay, we didn’t expect that, but can understand why you need it.” The obvious leader of the pair glanced at his companion and grinned. “Come on, Paul, I didn’t shave my pubes to not do this!”

His companion smiled. “You’re right, Jules.” He glanced at me. “Can we get some pictures with you once we’re dressed? I love the way you play at Striker, and when you’re playing at Target …”

“Of course.” I laughed. “We’re here to pose with you and anyone else wants it. Do you attend our games? Or watch the live feed?”

“We’ve got season tickets,” Jules replied. As we talked he stripped, and now adjusted the harness, settling the pouch with it’s cup and the external shield. “Wow, this cup sure compresses you.” He glanced at his friend Paul who was having a little trouble getting himself tucked into the cup due to being more than a little aroused. “Need some help, Paul?”

Embarrassed, his friend, flushed, mumbling a reply.

Discreetly I pretended not to notice and moved to leave the booths. “I’ll wait for you at the counter. Don’t forget the boots and bring the hoods with you, we can do the pictures for you hooded or just holding them.”

At the entrance I let Rod know what the delay was, and joined Willie talking to a group of four — two guys and two young women. The guys wanted to try the Gladiator harness and, of course, get pictures of themselves in it, but the girls wanted it too …

I laughed. “I think you’ll find what we’re wearing uncomfortable,” I told them, glancing at their Visitor Badges. “Fortunately a fan, Ingrid B, sent us a design for something.”

“You got it? Oh wow! I’m Ingrid B,” the taller of the two replied in delight. “Did you consider my other suggestions?”

“Yes, and our owner wants to talk to you about it.” This was something Dave and I had discussed. ‘Ingrid B’ wasn’t the only person suggesting a woman Gladiator team, but her design for a harness was the most practical, and, depending on how you looked at it, the most erotic. “First, though, yes, we did get your drawing for a harness, and, yes, the Owner, ordered a few, just in case.” I smiled. I knew what the answer would be, but asked anyway, “Want to try them?”

“Brill! Of course I want to …” She turned to her companion. “I told you, Bev. I knew they’d listen and be up for it.”

“Sure.” The first pair of guys emerged, looking rather self-conscious in their harness, and Rod steered them toward the posing area as Willie took the guys he’d been talking too to change. “Hang on a moment while I tell our owner you’re here, and then I’ll get you started.” While they watched Rod talking to the first pair of guys to dress, I contacted Dave, then turned to Ingrid and Bev. “Dave says he’ll be along shortly. Want to get rigged while you wait?”

I have to say, that even being Gay, the sight of Ingrid and Bev in their new Gladiator outfits reminded me that I was not entirely ‘disinterested’ in the other sex — especially when it was dressed for fetish. Their harness covered their crotches, and just about covered their breasts. Otherwise, like mine, it left the butt completely exposed, and conformed to a similar pattern of straps and waist band to the regulation Gladiator harness. The main difference was their breasts were supported in a sort of spider web net centred on their nipples.

“Wow,” I said. “Comfortable?”

Ingrid laughed. “We love it! Who made these?”

“Our harness maker. Joel. He used to be a Gladiator with the team. Now he looks after our kit.”

“I see you like the harness.” Dave arrived at my elbow, slipping a possessive arm round my waist. “Which of you is Ingrid?”

“I am,” she smiled, taking in his grip on my waist. “And this is Bev, my partner.” She paused as the introduction was acknowledged. “I was just telling Eighteen here the harness is even better than I thought it would be. Your harness maker is a real artist.”

“I have to go and pose with the guys,” I excused myself. “I won’t be long.”

I wasn’t, but by the time I got back more guys had arrived and needed attention. It was fun watching the different reactions from the guys, but Rod, Willie and I worked to make them comfortable. The Tag Gladiator Games Association rep entered into the spirit of it as well, offering a Henna tattoo of ‘registration’ to those who wanted it. Between the TGGA guy and the three of us, we had a lot of fun posing and appearing in the photos along with other members of the Team particular fans wanted to be photographed with. Even better, many of the guys elected to stay ‘dressed’ for a match, packing their clothes into carrier bags we provided and showing off their ‘marks’ flattering their favourite players by having our registration numbers included in their fake marks.

Dave joined me with Ingrid in a break. “Meet the new member of our team, Pat.”

“New member ..?” I grinned. “So you’re going to give it a whirl?” I turned to Ingrid. “Who do you plan to play against?”

“You!” She teased. “Seriously, there are a lot of girls want to try, so we think it’ll catch on quickly.” She turned to Dave. “Am I already owned, or can I get my picture with Bev, Eighteen and boys?”

Dave laughed. “Get the pictures, we’ll talk about the contract and ownership registration later.” He grinned. “Oh, about the ownership. I think you should stay as you’re dressed for the day. You never know, you could have two teams by tonight.”

“Great,” she quipped. Turning to Rod, she asked. “Can we get pictures in the Target Posts — with you guys of course?”

Rod caught Dave’s nod. “Sure. Who wants to be first? How about we rig one of you as the Target, and the other can put a tag on you, then you can swop over?”

Ingrid grinned. “Me first!”

“If you insist,” Rod said. “Pat, you do her left, I’ll take her right side.” He winked. “We better forgo the usual preparation requirement for a target!”

“What’s that,” asked Bev as we secured Ingrid’s ankles and wrists to the uprights.

“An anal fuck, and then lubing,” Dave told her. “It makes sure the sphincter is loosened up for a plug.”

“Sounds like fun,” Ingrid quipped. “Something to look forward to. Who does it?”

“For us guys, our usual partner or lover,” Rod told her. “Makes sure we go out full of his spunk.”

“We’ll have to work out what you ladies do,” Dave told her. “At least for the loosening up part. It’s important so you avoid mishaps — that plug can really hurt if you get it wrong.”

The banter continued as we posed, got some fun photos, changed the Target, and posed again. Then it was time to attend to more fans and make sure everyone got what they came for — within the limits.

Dave wasn’t wrong in his guess that having a couple of athletic females in their own harness walking round would be a great gimmick. We’d had a dozen of the female harnesses made up, and those went before lunchtime. We had orders for two dozen more by the end of the day. We were all exhausted, but it had been a massive success. There’d been no untoward incidents, and everyone had had fun, especially as the fans wearing the players harnesses and temporary tattoos became more numerous.

All the team members were genuinely surprised at how popular we were to our fans, and how many where really keen to meet us and talk to us.

“It wasn’t like this a few years ago when I was on my first contract,” Rod told a few of us as we watched a couple of fans trying to attach tags to each other playfully. “I’m glad it’s changing.”

“A few years ago, Grandad, we played just for select audiences. Remember what they were like? If you’d had some of them to an event like this …” Clive replied. “It took the TGGA and owners like Dave to change it.”

“Yeah,” Rod agreed. “Now we’re not treated like ‘meat’ or ‘property’ like some of the original owners used to do, and I like it.”

Once the last visitors had left, I walked across to the flat I share with Dave, my mind on a shower, perhaps a nice glass of wine or a beer, and bed with my beloved. I was still in my Gladiator harness feeling on top of the world, and riding high on the knowledge I was popular with our fans, and valued by my ‘owner’, Dave. He was waiting when I got there.

“It’s been a fantastic success, Pat,” he greeted me, his arms going round me as he pulled me into a kiss. “We’ve sold out of some items, got orders for others, and, of course, your lady admirers …” He shut the door, then held me against his naked body. “Aren’t going to get you. At least not that bit of you inside your target shield.”

“I’m glad of that, Master.” I returned his kiss. “Funny, I guess there’s a bit of me that’s Bi, but only for the fetish.” My hand found his rigid member. “Mmm, not it feels like my Master needs to have his Gladiator slave give him some attention. How would you like me; Master?”

“In the bedroom, as you are. Come on, I want to reward you, and then I’ve got a little something special for supper.”

He rewarded me in more ways than one. First giving me a mind-blowing sucking, followed, at my request, with a fabulous fuck. I was still glowing with the post coital rush after a shower, dressing carefully in the outfit he’d laid out for me, when I joined him on our private terrace for a drink.

“How do you feel about a change of role?” He asked, handing me a drink.

“Depends on the role,” I replied, nervously, my worst fear surging to the surface. Was he about to tell me he had a new lover? It wouldn’t be the first time I’d been dumped by someone I really loved. That was one of the things that had brought me here. I guess it must have showed.

“Why the worried look, Pat? I’ve something I think you’ll be perfect for.” He smiled. “I’ve decided to make an investment in Ingrid and her friends. It’s something our sisters have been working on the TGGA about for a long time, and your e-zine forum has shown there’s a lot of interest and potential …”

I relaxed slightly as he invited me to join him on the couch. “If the outfits they were wearing today are anything to go by … we’ll be overrun by guys with their gonads in charge.”

“Yes, and by girls of the same orientation as Ingrid and Bev …” He sipped his drink. “What I have in mind is to make you their Manager and Coach. What do you think?”

“Me? But I’m …” I paused. “I’m not sure I … What about some of the others? Why not Rod? I mean, yes, I can do it, but it means not being able to play in the team regularly, and my contract still has at least a year …” I felt my pulse quicken. Sure I could do this, but was he trying to tell me he was replacing me — perhaps in his life as well?

His hand found my thigh. “I want you to do it because I think you’re the right person for this.” He smiled, shifting his hand, “And because I have other plans for us, for you and me,” he laughed, “and besides, I’m jealous. I want you to be all mine. If you want to, you’ll have lots of opportunity to play in the team, but you don’t have to, and I won’t stop you.” His kiss surprised me. “And when your current contract is complete, I will want to discuss a different one with you.”

I felt the tears start, and just had time to put my drink down before he engulfed me in a full hug. In between sobs I managed to say that I loved him, that I would do whatever he wanted me to do, just as long as I could stay in this relationship with him.

His embrace and his kisses calmed me. “Relax, Pat, I feel the same way. Dry your tears, stop worrying, there’s no one in the world I want as my partner and lover as much as I want you.” He waited while I wiped my eyes, and managed to blow my nose. “Now relax, enjoy the drink and then I have a special supper for us.” He kissed me again. “And the future, my love, is ours.”