Rebuilding a Gladiator

Flames and a modelling career on the worldwide web

Mr Hardwicke says to sit down, but before I watch the monitor I need to know what the web says about me. You’ve gotten the usual flame mail. Best one wants to fuck you with a power augur. He meant auger like what digs the holes for power poles. Augur is what the priestesses at Greek Delphi prophesied, stoned as they were on volcanic gas.

Besides your Greatest Hits, you post at Facebook Save Slave Steve, Twitter @Stud Steve and @SlaveSteve, and two Kink.com channels — one in Bound Gods, one in 30 Minutes of Torment. Free content that invites folks to pay for the good stuff.

You have proposals of marriage from women and men, offers to buy to work and to torture. You’ll date some of them, for a fee. You have a couple propositions we’d like you to approve. (Okay.) Calvin Klein wants you to model.

What? Calvin Klein bullwhips? Jockstraps? Jamie.

Easy, stud, Mr Hardwicke answers. Here. Watch this.

The monitor shows me in a gladiator’s come-n-get-me pose. Voiceover says, Y’all know Steve. Sometimes it’s hard to make him look good. Monitor flashes me dirty, bloody after a gladiator match, writhing while I held a pullup to get bullwhipped at the barracks yesterday, then my ass bent over while I got caned (Chapter 11).

Voiceover chuckles, Especially in a size 44 suit. Monitor shows me standing studly, then photoshopped into an unbuttoned off-the-rack suit jacket, which bulges over my chest and shoulders before it flares out to the waist, where I taper in. My delts, biceps, and triceps bulge the sleeves, which don’t reach my wrists. And two of me could fit into the pants.

Voiceover continues, Sure there are trimcut separates for less muscular guys. It shows Luke and Jamie in gladiator straps, then photoshopped into suit pants, then jackets. Or maybe not photoshopped, they way they’re vamping.

But now, we can make Steve look good in our Athletic Tapers. Me photoshopped into suit pants, then jacket. And if we can make Steve look good, think what we can do for you.

Mr Whitmore stands, flexes, looks real pleased. You approve this continuing engagement? For you, Luke, Jamie, and Mike. You’ll like the work and your 40% of the fees for the four of you.

Sir! Yes, Sir!

New playmate

Mr Whitmore asks if I remember Brad, from the slave barracks where I lived with my men before I brought then here to Hardwicke Co. "Sir! He’s the gymbunny that won second place at armwrestling to cane me, then fuck me yesterday (Chapter 11). Great kid, Sir! Trains really conscientiously. He’ll want to grow up to look like overseer and bodybuilder Pete. Why, Sir?"

It turns out Brad’s in his third year of an indenture to a car-experience club, where members get to drive kewl cars from Corvettes to Ferraris and McLarens. They’d promised to apprentice him as a sportscar mechanic, but those mechanics just change oil and swap what the computer tells them to. Brad details cars and wears shorts to ride his skateboard to deliver them and pick them up. Meeting the client means pulling on a tank top and giving blowjobs. Sometimes the client calls to get the okay to cane him with the cane in its slot between the trucks, then to fuck him.

Brad likes riding the board and driving the cars, never mind the client interactions, but he’s grown too big to drive most sports cars — all but the Corvettes and the Ferrari 488. The way Mike said yesterday he can’t drive a 911. So he sees no future there like my men and I have.

He liked the way I trained him in the slave gym at the barracks. He caught Pete at yesterday’s barracks session. He’s Pete’s height, 6′2″, two years younger (21), 15 pounds lighter. Cute with short, curly, dark blonde hair. He wants to join me and my team, to train with us, especially Pete, and to train with me as a driller and blaster and to apprentice with me as a millwright. He’ll be Mike’s understudy blacksnaker too — Brad’s caning me in Chapter 11 shows his interest and aptitude for that. He’ll extend for our 12 years. He’ll be a partner for Pete. He and Pete will share a gladiator challenge Friday night.

He’ll cost less than my modelling pay, so I get my 40% of him without tapping my Marine Corps Credit Union account. Sir! Yes, Sir! He’ll join us tomorrow.

A money-maker i won’t enjoy

Mr Whitmore says there’s a gig that doesn’t need my approval because it lasts just 30 days, and only over 30 days needs my approval. But they want me on board, to approve, to, uh, participate willingly.

"Remember how your gladiator stable tried to keep you six months too long?" (A 10% amnesty cut six months off my five year, 60 month term. They didn’t tell me, but Jon and Anne, my attorneys, caught them.)

The stable didn’t give me the sendoff that’s supposed to get the dude to reenlist — extend his indenture — instead. Like the bullwhipping and probably mass fucking they gave Mike when they sold him down the quarry. So they want me back for a proper sendoff. Plus they want me to train them how to fight without head shots.

They wanted to pay just the one month. Mr Whitmore says they want me bad enough that they’ll pay 15 months slave rental for the 30 days. My 40% of that pays me for the six months they tried to steal.

The 30-day gig includes 10 fights, one every three days, plus they bullwhip me 18 cuts on day 1, day 15, and day 30 (I expect before the day 15 and day 30 fights). Make sure they can’t get me for discipline too. The fights in their 100-seat gym will sell tickets plus pay-per-view; Steve’s Studs Inc gets half.

I train with each dude for three days, and we fight on the third day. the dude chooses the regulation there five-minute rounds or five three-minute ones. They train me their way except where I show them how to train away from head shots, how to protect heads. Winner canes and fucks the loser. Then I move in with the next dude, who fucks me that night. They’ll start with dudes around my weight class, then alternate heavier and lighter.

Meanwhile, every guard and gladiator in the stable fucks or facefucks me once, average two a day, no more than three.

The small-scale pay-per-views will get seen but especially talked about. Show folks fights where neither dude gets carried off to emergency. Build a buzz for the stables to fight outfits like ours.  

"Sir!  yes, Sir!"

Dudes don’t dis bitches — i get to help women and children, painfully

Jon reminds me that I miss helping make life safer for women and children. He says I might be interested in some opportunities to help women and children. There are some propositions for short-term gigs so they don’t NEED my consent but won’t work unless I volunteer. Okaaaay.

Mr Hardwicke sits me down beside him, asks if I know dudes don’t dis bitches. Sir! Forgetting that made me a slave instead of a Recon Marine. Damn straight I know it, Sir!

He smiles, nods. He means @dudesdontdisbitches (DDDB), a twitter feed and organization that protects women and children from abusive men. They run counselling and shelters for frightened, abused women and children. They also work to educate dudes. I can help fundraising to support the counselling and shelters, and my, uh, example can help educate clueless dudes, steer them more constructively.

I’ve been invited to a fundraising event, on a card with a bodybuilding 23-year-old fireman (Flame) and a 17-year-old small-town quarterback (QB). Each one frightened his girlfriend by trying to buttfuck her at a party to impress his bros. Now they need to redeem themselves. No good college team will touch QB. Flame can’t fight fires in homes or offices because the department can’t have him alone with women, so his career’s buttfucked too. They both got caned — QB county punishment centre and team locker room, Flame in firehall gym and club gym. But that wasn’t enough. They need an event. They hope it’s one with me.

Ouch! "Sir, what do I do to raise funds at this, uh, fundraising event, Sir?"

It turns out I get bullwhipped. 24 lashes. People will pay thousands to see me get bullwhipped on pay per view. 

"Sir! If people hate me that much, don’t bother working me in construction or fighting me as a gladiator, Sir. Just flog me on pay per view, Sir!" I sound as scared as I feel.

He lays his hand in my crotch, squeezes, which calms me! "Easy, big guy. Some will pay because they fear you, some because they resent you, and some just because they like to watch studs in extreme action, but we especially want the folks who admire you, who respect you for what you’re doing to show that real dudes don’t dis bitches. Who want to support you and your cause. And remember this is national. Maybe a million folks will see Stud Steve showing what he can take for a cause he believes in. So imagine what he’ll do in a fair fight. Best thing ever for the Steve’s Stud Gladiators brand."

DDDB will use the state university field house on a Saturday when the football team plays a 4 pm game. They figure they can raise a third of million from folks paying for every stroke you and your bros take, plus another hundred grand or so by selling tickets and national pay-per-view. "You take two dozen bullwhip lashes at $3,000 and up — say three grand for standing front or back, four grand for hanging front or back or full-nelson front, 10 grand for standing fore and aft, 12 for hanging fore and aft. You’re worth 100 k. Flame takes $2,500 per basic stroke, QB takes $2,000, and they raise $150,000. Tickets and pay pr view do the rest. Or would you like to take it to half a million?"

"Sir! It depends, Sir. How’s it work, Sir?"

Mr Hardwicke asks Mike to explain. Mike says he volunteered in a gladiators’ charity flogathon right after he became champion, before my time with the stable. First the tops, the men who’ll flog, demo their power — tip speed for the speed camera plus landing length and force on an instrumented dummy. Then they intro the targets. Us. Folks pledge, say, $50 or $100 and bid on some scenes — say Mike standing fore for Top A, hanging aft for Top B. When a scene funds, gets enough bids for its target price, it happens. Those bids pay and those bidders get invited to bid again.

"As for raising more," Mr Hardwicke again, "blacksnake with 36 strokes would about double the 24-bullwhip take."

Ouch! "Double what I take too, Sir!"

"Right, stud, but doubling your personal impact and personal fundraising would explode your value as a gladiator. Good guy plus tough dude that every American hears about, a million watch live, and the rest get teaser clips. We’ll work to pitch you right, between hardass stud good-guy who doesn’t deserve the punishment and scary thug who deserves more pain than he gets. Mr Whitmore, Mr Kraus, and I top you as owners, Boss Henry, Pete, and Mike top you as overseers, and Boss Henry and Mike hold you for the full nelson. Whaddya say, stud?"

Fuck! "Sir! Yes, Sir!"

"Great! Your first three fore-aft hanging pairs are booked: Kraus White Horse, Hardwicke Co, and ’Parents of Stud Steve’s Sons’ — Jon and Anne for now, more by the day of the event."

"Some details, stud. You three stars wear jocks to keep y’all comfortable plus safe to view on prime time AND make it easy to full-nelson fuck y’all. To keep you three targets in the game and eager for the next cut but your dick not rigid, we clean y’all out just before the show, then shove a rock up y’all’s asses. We have the monitors on your arms and dicks to keep y’all, uh, safe. Pete full-nelson fucks Flame. QB’s still a minor, so Child Welfare says he gets no blacksnake and just 24 bullwhip, but Luke can fuck him in full nelsons.

"After the event, the trainers get y’all. Fuck to relax you, cold plunge, massage, feed y’all, clean y’all up, and stuff y’all into gladiator straps n runners. Then y’all jog through the crowd to the stadium to watch the game from a box on the 50-yard line where the cameras can pick y’all up. Y’all march onto the field at half-time for the crowd to cheer or boo. Y’all’re guests of the state police that night, get a great steak dinner, and the night in the state police guest house with y’all’s fuckers, uh, partners. You might entertain a couple special paying guests.

"Y’all’re super horny but your dicks won’t come back till after dinner. That night you and you partner will fuck each other twice. First your dick’s a blacksnake to show him to ramrod you the way a whipped-up stud needs. Then he ramrods the hell out of your hole, tortures whatever else you showed him too. Next Flame and QB show their men how their girlfriends will want to be loved, and then they get loved that way. They’ll get to that event by mistreating their girlfriends, so we don’t want them even rougher after they meet Dudes Don’t Dis Bitches. This reprograms them. After you and Mike trade rock drills, you and maybe Mike will entertain a couple special guests.

"Sunday morning, the State Police headquarters gym hosts the next event. You and Flame, QB too if Child Welfare approves, are the prizes in a first-responders? raffle that DDDB expects to raise another quarter million, mostly from ticket sales. A couple dozen winners cane, facefuck, and fuck you two studs, also on pay per view. There dozen if QB gets to play too.

"That evening we drop you and Mike at Doc’s cabin on the lake (Chapter 2) for a week to get you and the cabin and grounds in shape for the winter. Mike’s call whether you ride in the cab or a cage. You’ll need endorphin detox, need working very sore, uh, muscles. The water will still be warm enough to swim, especially on Monday. So you swim with an escort, walk the woods, run easy, exercise easy. It’s up to Mike how, how much he works you, if and how much he whips you after the endorphin detox. You’ll get pick and sledgehammer action in the grounds work. Jamie and Darren will go along to help take, uh, care of you. Demon and Luke too, if Mike wants them, for master-man bonding. But absolutely no whip on Monday. After that you’re in your men’s hands.

"Making sense, stud?"

"Sir! Yes, Sir!" Wish it didn’t make me hard, showing stud on national pay per view.

Photo op. ouch!

Calvin Klein and DDDB both need a scene they don’t have of me. Hanging fore’n’aft flog. Just six bullwhip. Keep the glad strap on so it can show in prime time.

First the camera or computer have to register the welts I’m already wearing so they can be erased from the image to let the new ones show. Fuckin ouch. I stand, reach up to the bars, then turn slowly. Pull up and hold, turn both ways until the system has me looking unmarked so I can get marked up again. High-tech slavery.

Mike in front, Pete behind, both flex, laugh. I pull up for the first bullwhip pair, but it feels fake. "Sirs! Real writhin, muscle-flexin action needs real blacksnake, hard, Sirs." I’m so fuckin endorphin buzzed.

Blacksnake it is, HARD. The first pair, front and back hit together. The second pair, back hits first. Front opens the third pair. So the action’s realistic, I’m showing out for the camera, and I’m buzzed enough to want it not to stop when they quit, call drop! Mike sits me between him and Mr Hardwicke.

Other kinky charities

The directors want me to volunteer for a couple more charity events. On the Coast, in Los Angeles West Hollywood and in San Francisco. After that dudes don’t dis bitches event, I’m not a virgin any more. Just hope they don’t turn me into a blacksnake whore.

For each one, we fly out on a Thursday — I wear whatever clothes Calvin Klein wants to showcase me in (or out of), over my usual gladiator strap. Our shop will provide the bullwhips plus quirts and tawses (no blacksnake). I’ll carry them and may need to demo for airport security. (Ouch. Warm me and the audience up for the gig.).

We get Trusted Traveller preclearance numbers — we’re controlled well enough to stay out of trouble. We fly business class, so board early and flex for all the other passengers. An announcement will invite them to support our fundraiser.

Each place, a gladiator stable will host us. Two men, a middleweight like me who’s my partner and competitor for the weekend plus his top, collect us at the airport and take us for a tough slave run and workout. The two tops decide when my partner and I ride in cages.

That night and Friday, one couple rent Mike and another rent me both nights. Two women want Mike to father their children — he’s top 10% intellectually and physically plus damn good looking. After dinner each night, he’ll sleep with one of the women. A husband and wife who’ve had trouble carrying the husband’s embryo — like Jon and Anne — have rented me. The Thursday night the husband gets me, fucks me, works me as rough as he can for sleeping with his wife; my quirt and tawse reinforce the damage his dick does. The Friday night, with that out of the husband’s system, he goes to a game with the guys while the wife and I share a romantic evening and make romantic love. Friday our hosts take us to surfing, then to Muscle Beach. Saturday morning the women’s shelter that we’ll raise money for hosts us for breakfast. I’ll wear as little as Calvin Klein allows.

Saturday noon both towns, my gladiator partner and I fight on pay-per-view, The winner canes than fucks the loser on pay-per-view too. Viewers can bet all through the match, and the shelter gets half. The organizers focus-group whether the regulation three five-minute rounds or five three-minute ones will draw better betting action. Saturday in LA, a Colt Studios porn shoot with us four studs at a beach or a canyon or somewhere in the afternoon. Saturday afternoon in San Francisco me, Mike, and our hosts shoot for Bound Gods at the Kink.com armoury. Maybe my partner and I reverse on our tops midscene.

Saturday night in West Hollywood, a leather club hosts a 24-bullwhip-lash flogathon. If it goes well, my partner and I double the fees and extend to 30, maybe double again to 36. Mike flogs the other dude, and his master flogs me. Both tops will do fore-n-afts. Viewers will pay to vote to choose whoever from dudes who pay for the chance to full-nelson us. Viewers will pay to vote for what my partner and I take, like at Dudes Don’t Dis Bitches.

If the same dude wins the fight and the flogathon, he tops the loser that night. If each wins one, we stage a gladiator challenge with bets all through the 12-stroke-each event — elbow-toe plank for cane, low pushup for tawse, back bridge for quirt (pecs, then balls), hold pullups for front flogger, pull-up for each back bullwhip. Blacksnake tie-breaker till one man drops. Bets all the way.

Saturday night in San Francisco at the Kink.com Armoury, my partner and I and our masters shoot a special, competitive episode of 30 Minutes of Torment. Viewers bid for what happens to us and bet all through the, uh, match, and the shelter gets half. Again, if one of us wins the fight and the 30 Minutes, he stars in a play party. For a tie-breaker, the viewers pay to choose a second 30 Minutes, a gladiator challenge, or a flogathon.

Both Saturday nights, we play at a high-ticket play party whatever the dudes pay for whatever’s safe. Sunday morning we train at a club; other dudes pay to train with us. Sunday afternoon at the beach, Sunday night at a club again, Monday and Tuesday the four of us at a beach resort with a good dining room, good gym. Wednesday fly home. Easy Thursday with Mike for me.

"Fuck. Sir, Yes, Sir!"

One last proposition

Quick break, stretch. "Sit here, Stud!" Mr Hardwicke sits close, his hand in my crotch again, feels good. So does his body next to mine.

"We want to buy Jason. We need you to vote your 40 shares in favour. Mike agrees." 

Jason was my Marine buddy turned free-man prick overseer at our gladiator stable. The man who raped me. Probably raped any other stable dudes that didn't want him to fuck them too.

Mike agreeing means he adds 12 blacksnake cuts to the directors’ 24, under our marriage contract (Chapter 13). That’s the first day. Then 9 to their 18 the second day, six to their 12 the third day.

"Sir! Y’all know there’s no fuckin way, Sirs. What fuckin good is that arrogant bastard to our gladiator stable. Just start my 36-blacksnake warmup for Dudes Don’t Dis Bitches now, Sirs!

"Okay. Sirs, how do y’all BUY Jason. How’s he for sale, Sirs?"

It turns out that this upstanding Recon Marine coached youth soccer and molested a couple kids. Knowing he’d end up indentured, his attorney sold him to our gladiator stable as a kind of overseer. A Marine NCO who knew how to keep men uh, whipped, into shape even without whips. So the free man was bullshit. Now getting convicted as a sexual predator a second time makes him a lifer slave. Cheap too, since the county can claim his balls. But his experience in our old stable’s gladiator business would help us in our business. He helps the trainers train us. He helps set up fights for us.

He joins the Big Dawgs. He’s lead hand for our gladiator training but just the lowest grunt otherwise, under captains me and Mike, lead hands Jamie and Darren. At night he’s Brad’s fuckbuddy.

He’ll do the gladiator challenge Friday with Brad and Pete, but his scores will rank with all of ours. (Score means how many of the 12 cuts you take of the cane, tawse, quirt, flogger, and bullwhip.) Since he’s been the bullshit free man overseer who didn’t have to train hard, he’s way out shape. We all expect to outscore him. So we all get to top Jason. All the time, any time it don’t interfere with work.

Yeah, gladiator rules. Like Brad, new gladiator Jason canes n fucks me n Mike. Then we do him. Then we turn Darren n Jamie loose on him.

They tell me to think about it, to talk with Mike, Jamie, and Darren, before I commit to taking 36 + 27 + 18 blacksnake cuts in the next three days. Let them know tomorrow after dinner.

"Sirs! Y’all can start flexin now for tomorrow night, Sirs."

Quick snack, washroom break. Mike hugs me tight, tells me to ease up, to enjoy owning 40% of Jason.

First gladiator practice — circle jerk

Gladiators and owners, all in glad straps, head to the gym room next to the weightroom. Rubber-mat floors. The head trainer or kinesiologist plus five assistants meet us there. So do Pete, Boss Henry, the apprentices, and Ape — they all train with us this week, wearin just jockstraps. Part of their punishment. With Ape, we make 17. Six gladiators, five directors plus Jon, and the four Hardwicke guys plus Ape. Not quite three targets per trainer and tawse.

We stand in a circle, facing in. Boss Henry’s in the centre. Drill is, we do what Boss Henry does for 90 seconds. Then in the 30 second break, he moves out to the circle, we grab a drink from our water bottles, and the next guy, Mr Kraus, goes to the centre, and for 90 seconds we do what he does. An exercise can get repeated once but only after at least two other guys lead other exercises.

Head trainer calls this the circle jerk. Says gladiators need quick moves, body control, quick perception, endurance.

Boss Henry starts with a yoga move! Stand tall but loose. Stretch up, rise up on your toes, flex, swoop down, bend from the hips, flat back, flex, back to start. The moves show Saturday’s two dozen blacksnake bites on his six-foot-four fireplug carcass. A minute and a half of this feels like maybe an hour. Sounds like we all get popped with a tawse, especially for bendin from the waist instead of the hips.

Mr Kraus next. He keeps the stretches up and down plus hands on floor, jump feet back, raise glutes by bending at the hips, flat back. Keep heels to floor. Downward dog. Stretch one leg at a time. Ouch. Lots of tawse action to get us to bend at the hips. Back flat glutes to shoulders. Move to butt down, dick just off the ground, back arched up, head and shoulders up. Upward dog. Jump back.

Mr Whitmore goes military. Eight-count burpees. Bored jock’s friend. One squat, two jump feet back, three four pushup, five six pushup, seven jump in, eight stand and stretch.

Mr Hardwicke does pliometric jumps, one foot in front of the other, squat, jump, change feet.

Mr DD gives us a break with jumping jacks. Mr JL brings an old disco move, grapevine or chain step right then left.

Pete does back-bridge pushups. Says any guy who can’t get tawsed into position — shoulders, hips n butt in air with hands on ground overhead — then shoulders down and extend one leg at a time.

Mike starts side lifts. Lie on right hip first, right elbow on the ground for balance, facing in. Left arm out front to brace. Raise chest and legs, hold, lower. Nice break. I do the left-hip ones, so the men all swap ends.

Jamie does teasers. Lie back straight, arms overhead, toes pointed. Raise both ends, hold, lower but don’t touch, hold arms and legs out straight.

Darren does corkscrews. Lie back, arms to side, raise legs and hips, twist right, lower, twist left.

Luke does superman flying. Hands and knees. Extend right arm, left leg. Hold. Switch.

Demon goes back to his favourite. Burpees.

Plumbing apprentice Mario does left-side planks, left hand down, elbow straight. Right arm straight overhead. Raise right leg, bend elbow down then straighten for one-arm side pushup, lower leg. Electrician apprentice Sparky does the other side.

Poor Ape looks real un-jock but does duckwalk.

Break. Another round, same exercises, 45 seconds plus 15-second changes.

Mr Hardwicks says we all look too relaxed. Finish with pushups. No prize except the glory for the man who does the most. Maybe a private bet or two. He looks at Mr Whitmore. Pete, Mr Kraus look at Jon. Mr DD n Mr JL bet a beer, tomorrow. I match Mike.

We’re fuckin dead. Assistants hand towels around. Refreshment table but drink n eat easy, don’t overload abused guts, don’t spoil dinner.

Watch a Youtube on log PT. For after dinner.

A man & his meat

Pete says the apprentices want to ask me something. They want to be my meat. Fuck! My meat? They’re Bulgarian, so maybe that’s something from over there?

Pete smiles crooked. Saturday night, when we talked about senior guys grabbing us for a little sex and violence, he didn’t tell us the whole story because he knew Boss Henry would be claiming me. He just told me that if I didn’t fancy the guy that wanted me, to look him dead on and ask if he was sure. (Any man past bootcamp can claim a slave in bootcamp. Like us six. Any man can claim a slave who he outranks, so overseer can claim lead hand, lead hand can claim worker, journeyman can claim apprentice. Besides fuck or facefuck, overseer can cane or anything else up to bullwhip. Lead hand can quirt. Us six are just in bootcamp now, but Jamie n Luke work as lead hands, and me n Mike will rank as overseers. At least for other gladiators.)

Pete tries to explain. "Being a man’s meat or boy means that the man can fuck with you but another guy who wants you has to go through the man. If the man says okay and the boy don’t mind, it goes down. If the boy don’t want it, the man tells the other guy. That guy can accept and shake hands.

"But if the guy takes the man’s boy, the man has two choices. He can challenge the guy to a regulation fight the next night and they fight double or nothing — the man if the guy wins plus the boy, or shake hands if the man wins.

"Guys fighting wear protector cups in their jocks. Or in their glad straps. But to make a fight fair, if one guy’s bigger or more skilled, like y’all, he don’t get a protector cup. (Ouch!) Make sense so far, big guy?"

I say it does, kinda. "So I gotta expect to fight for my guys’ honour and let the other guy kick my nuts, to keep it fair. But if the guy don’t accept the fight, then what, Sir?

"Then you take him on right there. Two guys fight, both get bullwhipped. So the other guy has to accept that to get to your boy. Weird macho guy thing. A guy with an advantage, like you, gets blacksnaked. So a man wants your boy, your meat, knows he’s gonna get beat in a fight, then bullwhipped, but he knows you’ll get blacksnaked. He gets your boy after if he hasn’t had him already.

"It comes down to something like a game of chicken. If he knows you’ll take the blacksnake, he has to ask himself if his honour and your boy are worth him gettin punched out plus bullwhipped so you’ll get blacksnaked. Call it the code of the hills."

"Call it raising the cost," Mike laughs.

Mr Whitmore’s been watchin, listenin. "The target can go after the guy too. I did when I was in bootcamp. I told the man, no. He didn’t stand down. I decked him with a gut punch. Caught his fall so he couldn’t hit his jaw or head. He got bullwhipped. I got blacksnaked because I’m a trained Army killer. He caned me, fucked me, but no other guy laid a finger on me. After my bootcamp, when all the guys saw I was co-owner with Mr Hardwicke, the guy came around to see me. He worried about getting blacksnaked into dog food, or at least getting sold. I shook his hand and thanked him for the opportunity to show my balls. He’s still warehouse overseer."

Boss Henry puts his arm around me. He’s big enough he could’ve picked me up. "You have one advantage being my meat. I can’t abuse my position to protect you from EVERYthing. Dude can do whatever to you, but I can do anything to him. Dude knows if treats you or your boy normal, I stand down. But he knows if he goes BAD, I’ll nail him. Mike would say that raises the cost even more. So you defend your honour and your boy’s, you take the fight or blacksnake, and the guy fucks with you or your boy or both. But not bad."

Pete says to me and Mike that I have four boys in my harem — Jamie and Luke, Sparky and Mario — while Mike has Darren and Demon plus me. Jamie and Luke’s dad told Jamie to stick with me, and he indentured Luke to me. Darren and Demon’s dad told them both to stick with Mike, even though he indentured Demon to me. We’ll both be helping their competitive gladiator initiation tonight, anyway — what we took last night and practised this morning. That’s a lot of fights and blacksnakes for me, not to mention leaving Mike alone while I service my four. Or they service me.

Mike taking Darren solves the problem that he was a gladiator slave with me. Darren likes me, he’s grateful to me, he respects me, and I own him. But as he and Jamie showed me and I showed them after Mike blew off my caning and fucking this morning, I know Darren too well to master him, to make him BELONG to me. If that makes sense. That’s what their dads meant yesterday, too, when they told me the guys missed me as master. I answered that it would feel like abusing subordinates, they asked me to try, and I said I would. Jamie will take more work for me than Luke will.

Me n Mike look at each other, shrug, say, sure. We’ll see. I take Luke and Jamie tomorrow together, then Sparky and Mario Wednesday.

Ape asks Mike if Mike would please take him on too. "Sorry, Ape, but getting fucked n fucked up by the other guys is part of the slave scene, part of the dues we all pay. You’ve not paid many dues yet. But Steve, our boys, and I will be happy to help you pay." Pete sends him off to shower. "Meet us outside the slave entry after dinner. Jock and boots. Log PT."

Blacksnake wedding

Mr Hardwicke at his most expansive. "Wedding-bells time. Grab a towel, wipe down your partner or choose a partner to wipe down, and welcome Mr Justice Peace."

He wears a navy suit, white shirt, what looks like a regimental tie, while everybody else wears a gladstrap or jockstrap. He looks like this is another perfectly normal event.

Me n Mike wipe each other down, looking into each others’ eyes, special attention to groin and crotch. Our guys pair up as usual. Jon’s linked with Mr Kraus. I think but I’m not sure, wasn’t paying enough attention, that Mr DD paired with Mr JL, Mr Hardwicke with Boss Henry, Mr Whitmore with Pete.

Mr Whitmore clips a leather bow tie around Mike’s neck. Mr Kraus clips one around mine. We wear them now and at dinner, then on special occasions. We stand facing each other, maybe six feet apart. Mike slips the titanium ring around my balls, in the gladstrap pouch. Both heads get more alert.

Mike stands on my right, the blacksnake over his left shoulder. Damn! What a stud. "Mike, if you were wearing khakis and boots, you’d look just like that professor from Ark of the Lost Raiders."

Everybody cracks up. "Raiders of the Lost Ark" — Mr Whitmore. "The whip was a 10-foot model 458 from David Morgan. Were use lighter Cherokee bullwhips but David Morgan blacksnakes." Okay.

"Gentlemen," Mr JP begins. "We have come together to join these two men, Mike and Steve, in lawful matrimony. Who gives these men?"

Mr Hardwicke and Mr Whitmore stand by Mike, one each side. "We give Mike to Steve." Each one swats a glute to step him forward, towards me.

Jon to my left, Mr Kraus to my right, say, "We give Steve to Mike." Each one hugs me, then swats a glute to step me forward towards Mike.

Mr JP goes through the ceremony. I remember some but I tried too hard not to look too hard in my gladstrap. "Steve, do you take Mike to be your lawful wedded husband, to love, honour, and obey, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, in slavery and in freedom, till death do you part?"

I do.

"Mike, do you take Steve to be your lawful wedded husband, to love, honour, and cherish, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, in slavery and in freedom, till death do you part?" (I obey. He cherishes. Like old-fashioned wife and husband,)

I do.

"Steve, have you something else to pledge to Mike?"

My cue. The gladiator oath. Notice blacksnake coiled over Mike’s left shoulder, so his right hand could grab it. "Mike, I’ll take a whip with you, I’ll take a whip for you, I’ll take a whip from you; I’ll take a dick with you, I’ll take a dick for you, I’ll take a dick from you: because I belong to you."

"Mike, have you something else to pledge to Steve?"

His gladiator oath (I take, not him). "Steve, you’ll take a whip with me, you’ll take a whip for me, you’ll take a whip from me; you’ll take a dick with me, you’ll take a dick for me, you’ll take a dick from me: because you belong to me."

Guys laugh, cheer, clap. I expect Mr JP to tell Mike he may now fuck the husband. He just tells us we may now kiss. We hug, grind, kiss. Mike slips off blacksnake. He’d have to bend down, so he picks me up instead. My dick feels his hard abs. My balls feel his hard dick in my crotch. He says, don’t shoot, but okay to frag. We do. We hold on. Don’t want him to set me down.

There’s champagne while Mr JP, Jon, Mr Kraus, Mr Hardwicke, and Mr Whitmore sign the certificate. Mike and I give our thumbprints. The county doesn’t expect slaves to know how to write.

Mr JP leaves. The others all head up to the slave shower to shower together. That leaves Mike time to make love to me, looking into my eyes, which don’t take long. He wipes my spunk, his dick, instead of feeding them to me. Gladstraps stay off for the walk, so guys notice how hard, how happy we both look. Blacksnake over Mike’s left shoulder, while his left hand holds my right glute.

We hang the bow ties and blacksnake on a hook, join the men in the slave shower. They all wash me n Mike, wipe us down. Hard not to shoot again. They must notice my titanium scrotum ring, and some feel, wash around it, but nobody mentions it.

Clean glad straps, even Pete n Boss Henry. There’s no size small enough on the rack for the apprentices, so they’re back in jocks. Me n Mike back in our bow ties. Boss Henry carries Mike’s blacksnake, so the company guys won’t know it’s Mike’s to use on me.

Mess hall erupts when we all walk in. Me n Mike first. "Gentlemen!" A very proud Mr Hardwicke. "May we introduce the newly-married gladiator captains, Mike and Steve. Hardwicke company invites all y’all join us in the lounge after the gym, when they help initiate gladiators Jamie and Darren and Luke and Demon, plus apprentices Mario and Sparky — like Mike and Steve’s initiation last night. Classes cancelled tonight, any work postponed." 

He tells the other couples to stand. Looks like maybe one guy in three or four is married, mostly older than us.

More cheers. Lots of hands-on attention in the serving line. Steaks tonight! Rare!

Mr Hardwicke says to the owners and directors that the company’s way less brutal than the way I look right now. He tells every man who’s been blacksnaked in the last month to stand. Besides me and Mike, the four other gladiators plus Pete (from my scaffold race with Darren — Chapter 7) and Boss Henry (Saturday night, Chapter 10, missed bodyfat-% targets). Nobody else. Bullwhip? Us six, Pete (Chapter 9 plus Chapter 7), Jon (yesterday morning with me — Chapter 11), and Mr Hardwicke (after I won a pullup contest — Chapter 3). Nobody else. Cane? Us six, Pete, and Jon (Chapter 12).

The mess hall explodes. Mr Hardwicke almost holds a straight face when he says, “Gentlemen! Let’s thank our Steve’s Studs for their entertaining FIRST week!” (Ouch!)

Next up – hands-on dinner, log PT, Mike and I help our men’s gladiator challenge, we get shivareed. Stay tuned.