Hello again after all these years.
Gentlemen: Welcome back, y’all.
This “Rebuilding a Gladiator” started 14 years ago. My seven dudes and I have finished our 12-year indentures (Chapter 13) — stay tuned. It’s easier to remember what a man did than what he said and what I learned about myself. Writing’s not my best skill, and this all dried up after Chapter 16 with Mike & his strap six years ago. COVID, work changes, and gym closures didn’t help, and the later something gets the better you want it to be. But mostly what went down hurts to remember. My Vancouver editor’s back on the trails and in the gym and office, so we’ll do better than a chapter and a quarter per year. We’ll get past the first couple weeks. Let’s start with how President Trump’s second term changed our world, then introduce or reintroduce us.
Man-owner bonding
Me ‘n’ president trump’s second term — slavery, slaves, indentures
We’re all stud construction slaves that belong to Hardwicke Co, owned by Mr Hardwicke and Mr Whitmore (Hard Dick and Whip More). We’re owned property because of President Trump.
Slavery and slaves replaced prisons and prisoners when Congress wouldn’t vote enough for second-term President Trump’s walls with Canada and Mexico, especially with the higher labourers’ wages after he deported six million mostly Latinos. While he was bitching to his cabinet, Attorney General Rudy Giulani had an aide check the 13th Amendment to the Constitution. It does allow involuntary servitude as punishment for crime, so he closed Leavenworth and the other federal male prisons and traded the inmates to Wall contractors. Then the contractors sold some men on when the Walls got finished. His “Second Amendment people” took out the judges and politicians who disagreed.
The states closed their prisons and sold their prisoners too when they saw how much they’d save on prison operation and how much cash selling slaves and prison real estate bring in. The counties took to leasing their men awaiting trial. Mike says they all turned cost centres into profit centres.
Now there’s a steady supply of young bucks like mine that pays a county way better than speed traps. In the longer term, the county and country might be better off if after flogging and working a dude for whatever got him busted, maybe upgrading his reading or math, the county’d release at least some to grow up, get some qualifications, go to work, start a family. At least some counties do get their dudes reading, adding, and subtracting before selling them at a better price. Some qualify them to join the military, even though the counties pay for the upgrading.
An owner has no limits with a life slave, so owners can buy cheap, work ‘em n break ‘em, throw them away or sell them cheap like the gladiator stable did Darren after they broke his leg, replace ‘em cheap. Too many end up disabled and homeless under bridges. We hear rumours that some states let owners turn slaves loose in a fenced patch of woods and sell hunting tickets. There are a couple societies that try to prevent cruelty.
An indenture adds limits, usually release the man in good condition after so many years but also clauses that an owner can’t make an indentured journeyman or technician certify something as correct or safe.
My dad was an instrument tech in the paper mill back in Iroquois Falls, Ontario. His job was to make sure that the gauges and safety valves on the boilers and the steam and chemical lines were accurate so the plant and workers stayed safe. He’d tell us about times a foreman wanted Dad to sign off to restart a boiler or machine before Dad thought it was ready. Dad would lock the foreman out of his shop.
So I understand how a technician or a Red Seal journeyman (like me, an indentured journeyman millwright who signs off on hoists, lifts, elevators, even ventilating equipment and pumps — folks depend on them) couldn’t be a slave. A slave’s owner could make him sign. In my other gig, master blaster, the client or overseer can tell me what they do or don’t want blasted, when to blast or not to, but they can’t tell me HOW or to set something off that I think might go bad. My husband and master, Mike, works part-time in finance, helping keep peoples’ money safe, so his owner, Hardwicke Co, had to release him to an indenture.
And indentures usually make a workin’ crew easier to manage than free men. Every indenture shows up sober the day after payday, for a start, and easier to motivate.
Hardwickes invest in their men, call us their only real asset. They make all the dudes at least complete their high-school equivalent GED, sell the ones who won’t or can’t (Chapter 7), and put all the ones who can through a tech-school diploma if not through apprentice to journeyman. They pay into the state Workers Compensation Board, make sure all their work sites pass regular inspections, and go for years with no lost-time injuries. The Board compensation pays for any lost time. They have an indentured nurse practitioner to keep us healthy and working. They even make sure that canes, bullwhips, and blacksnakes don’t break our skin — and no headshots when we fight, so no concussions.
And men can have families in the family condos behind a row of trees at the edge of the fenced compound. Their kids aren’t slaves, but the company can claim sons for a few years’ indenture with paid training after high school if they’re not in the military or in university that Hardwickes pay for. Mr Hardwicke, Mr Whitmore, and lots of overseers and older slaves have families there — but the men keep cells in the barracks too, for activities not involving their wives.
ME ‘N’ PRESIDENT TRUMP’S SECOND TERM — CORPORAL PUNISHMENT ISN’T CRUEL OR UNUSUAL
Boss Henry says AG Giuliani had an answer for how to handle slaves, too. That was a problem because you don’t lock up your workers like prison, and while you can degrade his food (like vegetarian slave chow with warm diet Dr Pepper for game losers — Chapter 14) you don’t withhold a worker’s food. That leaves pain. So owners could use all the traditional ways to cause pain — impact implements like canes, straps, whips plus electric shock gizmos like slaveprods and collars, cockrings and butplugs, even mediaeval collars and cockrings with internal spikes.
Some lady that the president forgot to fire in the Justice Department wrote a memo about the Eighth Amendment banning “cruel or unusual punishment.”
After he fired her, AG Giuliani ruled that the Amendment doesn’t apply to physical “motivation” because what makes the dude perform doesn’t really “punish” him for not doing it or not doing it well. And it’s okay if he’s busted up and bleeding for a couple days to “motivate” the others. Dudes in jail waiting trial so presumed innocent can be motivated to work and punished for misbehaviour but no scars, no permanent injury, no reduced earning capacity.
Punishments that apply to every slave and indenture can’t be “unusual,” and voters like chaingangs with overseers on horseback with bullwhips.
That does leave “cruel.” An owner can injure his property (the owner loses the earning capacity) but just not cruelly. Castration for sex offenders can’t be cruel; it hurts to think about cruel and not-cruel castration. Okay to disable him by cutting something off like a hand or eye; if it’s not done cruelly, the owner just incurs the cost of reducing his value.
Turning him out to end up under a bridge isn’t cruel, but it doesn’t make sense because the owner loses what, say, a mine might pay to keep him working underground and sending food down so long as ore comes up (Mike’s greatest fear). They say some counties run nighttime roundups, auctioning the better ones and selling the lame ones to a mine.
For punishment, leaving a blacksnake or cane cut to fester is cruel, and not mending a broken bone that sticks out of the skin is cruel after a day or two. But it’s okay to do what our gladiator stable did to Darren, break his leg, not mend it right, and sell him to a remainders bin. Electro devices can’t permanently damage the heart but brain’s okay.
At least most indentures, like ours, rule out permanent injury, even scarring, by making the owner protect the dude’s earning capacity except for normal wear and tear. And Hardwickes say they try to maximize their men’s earning capacity.
So that’s President Trump’s legacy. Now about us.
WHO WE ARE
The week started this Monday with us six construction-stud gladiator slaves that Mr Hardwicke introduced in Chapter 12: Mike -- 38 years old, six-foot-three, 235 lb, 48 inch chest, 38 inch waist, heavyweight. Darren -- 23, six-foot-one, 205 (max for UFC light heavyweight), 46 inch chest, 36 inch waist. Steve (me) -- 33, six foot, 185 (max for UFC middleweight), 46 inch chest, 32 inch waist. Jamie -- 23, five-foot-11, 180, middleweight, 42 inch chest, 32 inch waist, classic 42-Tall. Jamie’s younger brother, Luke -- 18, five-foot-10, 170 (max for UFC welterweight), 40 inch chest, 30 inch waist, classic 40-Tall. Both Tall dudes work as models if the arms and shoulders are cut big enough and if the jackets taper tight enough to the narrow waist. Demon, Darren’s younger brother -- 18, five-foot-nine, 180, middleweight, 40 inch chest, 30 inch waist. Notice how all our guys taper down to narrow waist n hips, rockhard glutes. Mr Hardwicke says from the back I look like an arrowhead splitting a rock.
So I’m Steve, gladiator slave and construction stud, Steve of Steve’s Studs Inc, Drillers & Blasters. I’m what y’all’d call a French-Canadian half-breed — Dad was a Canadian Méti (“mixed” like Mexican mestizos), the French-speaking offspring of French-speaking voyageur fur traders and their native wives; Mom was the daughter of an Irish father and Mohawk mother (she’s the Mohawk grandmother who made me a clean freak). Except for the blue eyes, I’d pass for Mexican or Central Asian (Chapter 14).
Like I said, we lived in Iroquois Falls, Ontario, a mill town in the French-speaking northern Ontario bush. The summer I graduated high school, at dawn on my 18th birthday, my dad collected me from a bush party and poured me onto a Greyhound to the US border. There a Marine recruiter collected me for an enlistment in the Recon Marines — what I’d always wanted to do. Recons train like Navy Seals, including the five-minute underwater swim, but unlike Seals we train to hold our breath and swim without drugs. We go into situations that might turn out bad in places you never heard of, solve the situations, get out, and NEVER make the news, especially not Fox News — also unlike Seals. I served 10 years Recon, combat, silver star, two bronze stars, purple hearts, promoted to sergeant.
I got arrested, convicted, caned n strapped, and busted out of the Marines like toxic waste over a misunderstanding with a woman in a bar on my first day back in the States for advanced training. Then the trucker who picked me up tried to put my mouth onto his dick while he drove 20 miles over the limit; that got me my second sexual assault conviction and a five-year gladiator indenture to Phillips Fuckers & Fighters. To protect me from a third conviction, third strike, I’m indentured to a trust in the British Virgin Islands or BVI. Lawyer Jon set up the indenture and trust in Chapter 9 to protect me from any random third-strike conviction and generally getting seized and sold by the county.
My first language is backwoods Canadian French. Redneck Marine English is my second language — why MBA Mike wants me to write better.
I live and work with Hardwickes, but I’m leased to black Mr Kraus of Kraus White Horse Co (Chapter 12). They’re reinforced-concrete contractors who do lots of public works, and voters like to see the muscular jet black overseer in the muscle shirt on the white horse workin his ‘black boys’ with an Indiana Jones bullwhip from David Morgan. (Chapter 14).
Hardwickes say they run on rednecks and city delinquents, who sell cheapest; that’s why I’m just about the only nonwhite. Asians cost the most, then Latinos (they bust into the country to work).
Registered sex offenders come even cheaper, since, sorry, fucking up again could get one castrated. But Hardwickes have two defences for that — real strict control and, in the general vocational testing we did this morning in Chapter 13, they measure how your dick subconsciously grows or shrinks with whatever images flash on the screen too quick to notice. That shows the company which dudes to worry about in what situations — especially ones they can’t trust around teenage or younger girls or boys.
We met Mike in Chapter 12. He was a Finance MBA from Middle Tennessee State working for a Wall Street bank monitoring trades for any that broke the rules. When the expertly-concealed Amaranth commodity scam damn near broke the bank, Mike took the fall for all the Ivy Leaguers and MIT and Stanford grads, He wound up as slave for life and champion in Phillips, the gladiator stable that later bought me and paired me with him. When Jon got me protected in Hardwicke Co, he tracked Mike and bought him for Hardwickes from where Phillips had disposed of him (Chapter 12). Now me n Mike are married gladiator cocaptains (Chapter 15) after he proposed by blacksnake in Chapter 13.
Darren and Jamie are slaves for life and belong to my trust and Steve’s Studs. Demon and Luke are indentured to Steve’s Studs through my trust. Their dads say they were all random delinquents and that me, my trust, and Hardwickes saved them from real bad situations.
Hardwickes own Mike, like I said. As my Chapter 13 tries to explain, all the rest of us work on 12-year indentures for our training — GEDs for my four dudes while they finish our six-month Hardwickes boot camp, then six-month driller-blaster training for us all, apprenticeships for me as millwright, Jamie studying in the tech school as trainee construction overseer, and Darren n Demon as apprentice bricklayers. Luke will use the 12 years for community college then university to become an architect. Mike will work some combination of Hardwickes overseer and finance jock as an indenture. Ranked by general learning ability, Mike ranks top 10%, me, Luke, n Jamie rank top 25%, and Darren n Demon fall just below average at top of the bottom 50%.
We’re starting our second Hell Week, too, after we picked up Mike n Demon yesterday. That’s why, at dinner tonight when Mr Hardwicke asked every man who’d been caned this month, just us gladiators stood up. When he asked who’d been bullwhipped, Overseer Pete stood up with us because in Chapter 6, when me n Darren raced up a scaffold and broke safety, he hadn’t thought we’d be that dumb. Mr Hardwicke stood up too, losing two bets to me — last Monday I did more pullups (Chapter 3), and last Wednesday I outran him while he quirted my jockstrapped ass (Chapter 5). But today he said I made it too easy, that I SWUNG the whip when I should have thrown it, then flicked my wrist to land it. He didn’t mind at the time, but for our men’s gladiator challenge tonight I should remember how me n Mike practised in Chapter 13.
WHERE STUFF CAN GET DONE TO US
I should distinguish the Slave Bureau from Slaves R Us , the Municipal Punishment Centre, and workingmen’s clubs.
The Slave Bureau registers new slaves, new indentures, especially longer than five years, and slaves and indentures new to the state. Registration includes six strokes each of cane, strap, tawse, flogger, and bullwhip except any that our hides show we already know. Premium orientation (Chapter 9) gets 12 strokes. I’m grateful that at least I didn’t get the premium strap (I “knew’ the rest). Also shoot to test sperm potency.
Slaves R Us sells titanium collars (like ours) and steel ones, steel-toed boots like ours, and generic uniform shorts, t-shirts, muscle shirts, plus jocks and socks, even slave chow (like dry dogfood). They also sell motivating implements — impact cane, strap, tawse, flogger, bullwhip, blacksnake, slave electric prods (smaller cattle prods), electric collars, cockrings, n buttplugs plus restraining handcuffs, irons, and more, like I said. They encourage a man buying an impact instrument to experience it used on him before he practises using it on instrumented dummies and live, uh, specimens — usually not volunteers.
The Municipal Punishment Centre or MPC usually canes or straps young dudes their dads can’t handle, but they also carry out court caning and whipping sentences. Jamie’s dad was having him strapped (price of quitting school at 16) when I got sentenced to the cane in that bar misunderstanding. My fighting back got me strapped too. The dad drove me back to barracks, where I got the dishonourable discharge that put me hitching on the highway for my second conviction for assaulting the trucker. Jamie calls me a bisexual badass.
Working men’s clubs are pubs for slaves (and indentures). When you take a dude somewhere to get, uh, disciplined or oriented that includes flogging , you usually take him to a workingmen’s club for beer and barbecue plus for cleanout so he doesn’t embarrass himself by pissing himself (like I did at the MPC after my first conviction) or shitting. So the club gives him an enema and makes sure his bladder’s empty (lubed catheter if he’s too scared to let go). Beer and barbecue are better by themselves.
MASTERS
Let me explain masters too, along with their twisty parts in my history. A man belongs to a master when the master not only masters him sexually (fuck, facefuck) and physically (cane, tawse, strap, flogger, whip …, plus maybe win a competition first) but also commits to him by taking a beating with, for, or from the man (Chapter 13). When the man knows that the master has committed to him, he swears the gladiator oath, “Sir! I’ll take a whip with you or for you or from you. I’ll take a dick with you or for you or from you because I belong to you, Sir.”
I have four masters, including Mike, my husband.
Boss Henry is head overseer and general manager. In Chapter 10, he showed his commitment by getting blacksnaked bad; then he hung me up in his cell for flogger n fuck. He’s tangled all through my story. Our original overseer, Pete (Chapter 4), is Boss Henry’s younger son; Pete’s on a 12-year indenture for tech-school diplomas as a construction manager and overseer (two years indenture for one year of training, to get a year’s work for very study year). The company put Boss Henry’s older son, orthopod Doc, through undergrad and med school. We met Doc in Chapter 2, when he repaired Darren’s leg after our gladiator stable, Phillips, took money to let his leg get broken in an uneven fight; then they threw him away. The company put Boss Henry’s daughter, Anne, through law school; she’s my defence attorney now. Her husband’s attorney Jon.
Attorney Jon sprang me n Jamie from the gladiator stable in my nifty.org Reluctant_gladiator prehistory, helped me find and rescue Darren from a slave remainders bin when the stable threw him away. In Chapter 2 Jon connected me with Hardwicke Co. In Chapter 9 he not only started my corporate and trust structure but also outran and mastered me. In Chapter 11 at our pre-Hardwicke slave barracks, he took half my bullwhip, cane, and tawse, then matched my facefuck and fuck; that showed me he’s my committed master. When Jon set up my new life in Chapter 12, he programmed me that when I’m being beaten to persuade me to agree to some proposition, I shoot and agree at six. We traded fucks again in Chapter 14 before he set up my FaceTime with the Tajik warlord who first captured and enslaved me.
My black owner is Mr Kraus. In Chapter 2, he bullwhipped me, fucked me the way a proud black man treats a half-white slave, then I tawsed n fucked him. In Chapter 12, Jon caned me to make me sell myself to Mr Kraus; later Mr Kraus strapped me to agree that my company owners can flog me for attitude, fuck me for services; still later he n Mr Hardwicke blacksnaked me to agree that the (other) owners could cane me n Mike, fuck us, n piss on us. In Chapter 14 me n Mr Kraus traded full-nelson fucks and flogs to practise for my pending initiation to his company.
Masters get even more complicated when the man owns his master. Hardwickes’ Mr Hardwicke and Mr Whitmore own their master, Boss Henry, and in five years my trust will own Mike.
WHERE WE LEFT IN CHAPTER 16 --
After Mike (my gladiator cocaptain, husband, and master) strapped my balls and dick, pecs and tits while I held a back bridge (bridge felt good, strap didn't), strapped my ass while he rammed his dick down my throat, and said he’d fuck me tonight, he said, "But I'm the master you've always wanted. The man who believes in you the way you believe in him."
Fuck! How'd he know? The Marines I always wanted let me down, kicked me out after the 10 years Recon, silver star, two bronze stars, purple hearts, and all when I got tangled in that bar misunderstanding with a woman, and the gladiator stable never cared.
Mike knows me well enough to let me EARN his strap and his dick, not just make me take them. Then he said, "But this doesn't make you a cocksucker." Right! I’d be a cocksucker if he just told me to and I did. I’d be your basic slave if he’d used his strap to make me suck it. But he let me earn it. I’m so fuckin weird now that I’m proud I took his strap to earn his dick.
I wonder if Mike will strap me first every time he feeds my ass his dick. I wonder if I hope he feeds me his dick either end. I wonder if I hope he straps me while I prep his dick.
Men we pass, even our dudes, smile, whistle, rub n swat my redhot glutes. I stand taller.
AND NOW -- MAN-OWNER BONDING
"Hardass!" Mr JL, father of Jamie, my 23-year-old life slave, and his brother, Luke, my 18-year-old indenture.
I DON'T halt, come to attention, military turn to face him, salute, and say “Sir! Yes sir!" like Mr Hardwicke said I would yesterday (Chapter 12). I don't salute. Marines don't salute indoors because we don't salute uncovered or bareheaded and we uncover when we enter a building. But I do halt, snap to attention, military turn to face him, and say, "Sir! Yes sir!"
He grabs both glutes, then pulls me towards him crotch to crotch (men have started doing this), says, "Wow! Hotass!"
"That hot ass NEEDS a cold soak like you did with Jon yesterday (Chapter 12) after you and he got bullwhipped, caned, tawsed, facefucked, and fucked at the slave barracks earlier that morning (Chapter 11). That hot ass WANTS a hot dick, as you showed twice yesterday (I pointed both hands to it with a dick still down my throat -- Chapter 12 after Jon caned me to agree to sell myself to Mr Kraus and after Mr Kraus strapped me to agree that my fellow owners can flog me for "attitude" and fuck me for "services").”
“I'll explain how I learned while you heat this cold dick (which he shoves down my throat with hot lube -- I'm back across a table, face turned half sideways at his crotch, butt opposite) and I keep your pussy hot. We'll talk when my hot dick goes up that hot pussy."
"We'll chill that hot ass when we finish here. We have at least half an hour because Mr DD (father of Darren, my other 23-year-old life slave, and Demon, his brother and my other 18-year-old indenture) is bonding with Mike just like Mike just bonded with you (strap ass while dick rams throat)." Wow! I want to protect my master, Mike, but can't.
"Did you and Mike leave anything unfinished?" Extracts dick so I can answer.
"Sir! Yes, Sir! 10 strokes, I indicate which side of the strap just hit — holes (hold up right hand, circle thumb and fingers) or solids (hold up left hand flat). Right answer gets next stroke; wrong answer gets five strokes (right, wrong, right, wrong, right) plus that next stroke. Sir!" Dick back in.
"Turn your right hand over, palms up." He holds the strap in front of my eyes, slaps my palm with the solid side. He repeats with the holes.
"An odd time to say this, but OUR sons" -- He sees my look, my eyes open wide, buzzed eyebrows up, his dick down my throat -- "Your sons and mine, Jamie and Luke, because the next dozen or so years (Chapter 13) they'll maybe grow up more, learn more with you than they did with me in Jamie's first 17 years and Luke's first 18. Maybe they'll end up in a better life. All the grief you're taking gives both of them the opportunities they wouldn't accept from me.” (We all extend our indentures to Hardwicke Co to 12 years for Luke to finish his high-school GED, graduate in architecture while Jamie finishes his high-school GED and a couple community-college diplomas towards becoming a construction overseer — and they both train with me as drillers & blasters). His crotch and dick rise and take my face and neck along when he pulls himself, both heads, more erect.
"Our sons and I are VERY proud they belong to you, the way you live your manhood to express it, how you stay Strong Steve, how you accept whatever you have to take to keep them all safe." I try to smile. “And they say you make sure they brush their teeth every bedtime. Mohawk grandmother?” I nod, try to smile.
“We’ll do 10 sets but only three after wrong answer – right, wrong, right.”
Stroke 1 hits. I show solids, take hard holes to right hand then ass, then hard solid to left hand and ass, hard holes to right hand then ass.
“Do you feel the difference on your palms? Right hand up if yes, left hand if no.” I show left hand. “Okay, slave. No more hand targets -- we need those slave paws in shape for log pt.”
“A couple strokes that don’t count toward the 10. One down each glute.” He was standing at my head, leaning over my back to swing the strap. Ouch! Ouch again! He says to feel the glutes he just hit. “Which one has bumps?” I point to the left one. “Right, stud! Remember how that hit felt.”
Stroke 2. Solid. "Right, boy."
Stroke 3. Hole. "Wrong, boy." Solid-holes-solid.
My butt's so inflamed that everything feels, hits solid, even after the practice pair, so I eat maybe half a dozen holes-solid-holes butt sets.
He thrusts deeper while he leans n reaches to rub, massage the inflamed glutes and sore neck, to drag some knuckles through the traps n lats.
Stroke 10. Holes. "Right. boy." Maybe even I can learn this.
Dick out. He walks around to my side of the table. Helps me stand crotch to crotch, hugs me, hands on hot glutes. “Stud! Thanks for a sexual blowout like I never imagined. And that’s just the first act.”
He asks if I noticed how the strap to my butt drove my throat over his dick, and if I’d noticed that when I facefuck-strapped Luke this morning (Chapter 13, after I got Overseer Pete off while he strapped me and Luke sucked me. “Sir! Yes, Sir! What Mike called ‘feedback’ really, uh, intensifies the experience, Sir! I expected to enjoy my moment with Luke on my dick but not really just now with you on my butt and down my throat, Sir, but I did!”
He says it surprised him how much he enjoyed strapping my hard, muscular ass too, besides driving my throat onto his dick, since he didn’t enjoy caning Jamie. Too weird to think he’d facefuck-strap Jamie.
Quick slug from a water bottle, rinse mouth. He asks if I can talk. I nod. Chest down again onto table, Mr JL and his dick behind me against my hot ass, quick hot lube into hole and onto balls and dick. Quick ram into hole. He apologizes -- I'm just his third male fuck after the two yesterday, which he tells me about -- the "explain."
"While you and Jon ran and bonded at noon yesterday and while Mr Hardwicke and Mr Whitmore asserted their ownership of Mike in y’all’s old bedroom (Chapter 12), Mr Kraus herded me and Mr DD into Jon's office again. We turn, face the door, strip, set shoes and fold clothes next to door, stand facing door, legs hip width apart, hands behind head, get blindfolded, get wireless earbuds inserted.
Mr Kraus says, 'You'll hear only my voice. You'll take a couple dicks, which can be mine or the other man's sons', and you'll put your dick down and up the other man's sons. Your sons will cane you. This will help you learn how to cane Steve and how to cane y'all's four sons to express your feelings about their ending up here as slaves and indentures plus practise for Steve. You'll also experience some of their slave experiences. Please let us bend you over Jon's desk.' "
"We feel something like a beach towel against our thighs. Then one hand goes behind the base of our skulls while another hand turns our chins up halfway, mine to the left, they say facing Mr DD, his to the right facing me.
“Mr Kraus says, 'Breathe through your nose while one of the other man's sons (or maybe me) shoves his dick into your mouth and towards your throat. Try not to gag and not to bite. Your job is to excite that dick — lots of stimuli, not just on the sensitive head but along the shaft too -- lips plus tongue plus throat opening, maybe breathe on it when it’s not all the way back. One or two of YOUR sons will motivate your backside with a cane, as many strokes as it takes to prep your butt and the other man's sons' dicks.' Then a dick goes into my mouth and I guess another into Mr DD's. So this is what it feels like. The scene might turn on the dude with the dick, but for me and my throat. I prefer a woman’s tongue, not so far back. It certainly reinforces submission, makes me feel like a dominated slave. I guess this is how our sons want you to make them feel." (Okaaay.)
Mr Kraus continues, 'This first cane stroke HITS TOO HARD!!!. (Too damn right!). The next stroke's too easy (Fuck! He's right!). And THIS ONE's just right! (Damn! He's right again. Weird!) Y'all aim for 'just right' when y'all practise on y'all's sons and work on Steve.' "
"The cane stops and restarts when the throat dicks change with a couple shoulder rubs, knuckles into traps, lats. Hotlube after the cane, then a dick goes up my ass. The dick up my ass works what I didn't know I had, then shoots. The other dude’s dick shoots down my throat. I guess I shot plus fragged -- my first ever. Mr DD and Mr Kraus said later that they fragged too.”
“I need the break and the coffee before Jamie. Then Jamie lays himself over the desk for me to cane, still hearing Mr Kraus's instructions in the earbuds and feeling Luke's hands on my butt and knuckles into it. I feel my swings improve. Jamie responds too. They switch. It's harder to cane Luke than Jamie, even with Jamie’s hands working my caned butt. He starts quirting my butt with each cane stroke. Luke gave me less grief, didn't go out of his way to bug me."
Then Mr JL surprises me again -- "Back in WAH-oming, where I studied energy economics and sports psych at the university on a tennis scholarship, we'd say 'Mike done busted you like a cowboy busts a stallion.' The cowboy needs a stallion and chooses the dominant one, the alpha stallion, from the herd. After the stallion gets busted, he seems pleased to belong to the cowboy, acts more dominant, studlier with the other horses. Sometimes he grows his dick when he sees his cowboy, looks like he flexes his neck and front shoulders.”
Mr JL squeezes, rubs, digs, swats my hot ass. He rams in, works traps and lats, swats butt. He has to be crushing the balls I feel each time he thrusts. We both frag.
"But if Mike brings you an apple, duck, because like a cowboy he'll have a steel bit for your tongue in his other hand."
I have to ask, “Sir! Would you like me to get you hard again so you can fuck me face to face, my legs over your shoulders, our hands on each other’s chests, Sir?” He said this surprises him – the position and that I’d volunteer for another facefuck-strap. So tits to table again, his dick down my throat, his strap on my strapped ass. Then a more personal connection, me on my back, hotlubed dick back up my hotlubed hole, my strong shaped legs on his strong tennis-shaped shoulders, around his strong tennis-shaped neck, eye to eye, hands to shaped pecs n tits. Feel bonded. Better frag. Fuck! I get off getting fucked if I get strapped first!
"Thanks, Stud! Know why we ask you to identify the solid or holes strap?" Me — "Sir! Body awareness, Sir?" Mr JL — "Right, Stud!"
"Now let's chill that hot ass so it doesn't get, look TOO ugly. Your blacksnaked back and chest and the strapped hands too." He half supports me, half carries me into the trainer's suite and a cold plunge. "Head, fingers, toes out. Zone on the dick you warmed up and my voice while I talk."
The sports psych helps his work as an energy trader. He still coaches tennis on the side, brought Jamie and Luke up training and playing. Jamie could have earned a tennis scholarship and degree like his but fucked it away as a bike racer and courier, ended up at 17 in my gladiator cell (Chapter 12).
Mr JL learned to cane and to strap Jamie when he had to collect him and his bike from Slaves R Us after Jamie'd biked out to get bullwhipped the second time he got caught as a bike courier stealing from a receptionist (blacksnake starts at 18).
“Before the drive home I asked Jamie what I could do to impress him, maybe help him think first. He didn’t use my car, he went to bed early, worked early Monday to Friday, would rather bike than drive, raced and trained weekends, so I couldn't ground a working courier, couldn't ground a winning racer, couldn’t pull the car keys since he biked everywhere.”
“Jamie hung with the other flogged dudes while I bought the middle-weight cane we both hoped might stop him before any further trouble, since nothing else had worked. The shop said he'd ‘want’ a strap too, to reinforce the lesson of the cane. They say that when you buy an implement you need to practise it and to experience it before you apply it.
My first time getting caned and strapped; until yesterday: I thought it would be the last. I caned him, then strapped him, first time ever, when we got home. I ignored it when he maybe gestured for me to fuck him like I guess the alpha couriers did after they caned him. The next day, the couriers liked what the strap did to his butt so well that after his last delivery they made him bike back to “Slaves R Us” to buy one for them to use.
“He charged it to the team but they took it out of his weekly allowance. Most of his pay went into a fund for his education – a fund they expected they’d never have to pay because their semidelinquent young dudes mostly go off the rails rather than on to apprenticeships or college. We’ll try to get those bucks to help with his college or tech school tuition.”
So Mr JL knew about the two sides of the strap – holes in the rubber piece hurt more because they raise the bumps that the solids hit, and rubber around the holes stings because it moves the skin. Then the leather side with the hacksaw blade in it targets these miniwelts. The rubber side wraps the glute, makes it sting worse. The leather-hacksaw-blade side hits harder, flexes but doesn’t wrap. With leather side first you don’t really notice the rubber side landing.”
“The next time I got a call about Jamie's work I used the cane and strap to, uh, intensify our talk. But 16-year-old Jamie worried more about the alpha couriers who were getting him into trouble -- caning and fucking him too -- so he moved in with them. Shortened his commute but cut the conversation, cut our relationship.”
A few months later, after the 17th birthday Mr JL managed to celebrate with Jamie in a rare overnight with him at home and 12-year-old brother Luke, a deputy sheriff he knew called to warn him to collect and sell Jamie before the county arrested and sold him. That got him to my gladiator stable and into the cell I shared with champion Mike because Mr JL told Jamie to stick we me. Mr JL remembered driving me back to the Marine barracks the day I got convicted, caned, and strapped at the Municipal Punishment Centre — when Jamie got strapped as the price of quitting school at 16 (Chapter 12). Seeing his 17-year-old big brother go down was so hard for 12-year-old Luke that he started the gangbanger track that led him to me as my 18-year-old indenture.
So Jamie provokes me because he wants me to master him, like Jon said in Chapter 14 and like (as?) Jamie almost said in Chapter 13 this morning, when Darren full-nelson-fucked me while Jamie worked my chest and tits with his lead-hand quirt.
Mr JL asks, "Am I bullying you? Picking on you? Abusing my position with you?"
Fuck! How do I answer this? "Sir! No, sir! You're treating me the way an owner does a slave, Sir, especially with my shareholders' agreement that lets you flog me for 'attitude,' fuck me for “services” too, just so it don't interfere with my work, Sir!"
Mr JL makes a funny expression when he says, "I do wonder about treating a real war hero (silver star, two bronze stars, purple hearts — Chapter 12) like some delinquent slave."
"Sir! I'm proud to do the jobs I signed up for — Recon Marine, gladiator slave, now construction stud warrior slave, Sir!"
Mr JL goes on, "You say you've not wanted to master Jamie, not just because he used the gladiator stable's guards and slave prods to train you not to lay a finger on him, let alone dick IN him, but also because you don't want to bully him, misuse your authority, abuse him. But you say it's okay for me to use my position to strap you, face-fuck you, fuck you. So Jamie acts like a brat to provoke you. (Chapter13)"
"Master Jamie, Stud Steve, before he and I both master YOU again. Master nice kid Luke too."
“Questions about your time in Tajikistan as a captive working on the young dudes’ crew before the warlord’s son scared you into running away so he could capture and enslave you (this afternoon’s Chapter 14 with lawyer Jon and Facetiming chief Khaled, who captured and enslaved me when I tried to escape after he had his dad talk about keeping me).
“You said that the bullwhipping when they recaptured you was your first, but you also said that on the young dudes’ crew you got bullwhipped when you and another dude raced up a cellphone tower like you and Darren did last Thursday (Chapter 6) and bullwhipped plus blacksnaked that night (Chapter 7). So how was getting flogged (Chapter 14) when you got captured your ‘first’?”
“Sir! I guess I meant my first bullwhipping as a slave, because my crew told me that getting worked in the mountains with a quirt and bullwhipped when I broke safety was how young dudes get worked. Getting captured, flogged, and enslaved scared me the way getting whipped on the dude’s crew didn’t because I didn’t know if I’d ever get back to the Marines.”
"Did you and your sergeants talk about how or why you three were on that offroad trail up into the warlord's valley?"
"Sir? Yes, we did. The warlord couldn't request 'Merican Recon Marines — too political, too many legends about Afghanistan, might encourage the trouble-making neighbour. But Recon could volunteer us enlisted men to get captured and put to work, demo how we could help their development and their security -- that was our job on those deployments, but you can't work a captured officer. We demoed help with security and stuff like how to use the night vision, commo, and first-aid gear that we carried for them to capture. The sergeants helped organize their security. Me gettin captured and enslaved made us look more useful, less dangerous, Sir! We didn't talk 'bout this to anybody but our other two. After we broke the ice Recon sent our sergeants and other young dudes on more missions. But they wouldn't send me out on any more missions 'cause they knew I'd escaped back to my warlord and his son, Sir!"
He asks how I felt learning that, was I sore?
"Sir! No, Sir. I was proud to have helped our Recon and our trainin mission, not exactly proud I was the one dumb enough to get enslaved to get us three fully accepted. And I did feel just a little dumb for tryin to escape so they could capture and enslave me., Sir!"
"Oh, and I was REAL sore from the whips and dicks but almost proud I took it all, Sir!"
“One more thing, Steve. It sounds like Mike’s your first real friend, but that’s complicated, and you’ve never had someone you trust who you could talk with the way you can’t with Mike. Just a sounding board, not someone who can order you what to do or not do and punish you if you don’t or do. You know that Jon did a dual major in accounting and psych, but you probably didn’t know that besides me Boss Henry did a sports psych minor. You could talk with any of us, but I’m the one who’s not also a master. Boss Henry’s like a dad to lots of Hardwicke men. But because I’m just an owner, not a master, and I like you (not just to flog and fuck unless you want to), I’d like to be your big brother. Any overseer or lead hand with a cell phone could help you call me any time.”
Mr JL helps me out of the cold soak, helps dry me, dries my butt enthusiastically. He adjusts his gladiator strap while I pull mine back on again. But before we head for bareass log PT we talk about my upcoming 30 days back at the gladiator stable, Phillips Fuckers & Fighters About the 30 days — We're starting to become Steve's Studs, Drillers & Blasters. Okay -- compare Drill with Fuck, Blast with Fight.)
Mr JL – “Another question. Where does this ‘hard outdoor labour under the lash’ come from?”
“Sir! I enjoy the hard labour if it challenges me. Another way to win. I guess ‘under the lash’ comes from Jason, when I told him about my time as a captive in the mountains.”
"That 30 days back with Phillips -- Mr DD and I negotiated with Phillips because we knew their manager from selling him my Jamie and Mr DD's Darren. As you heard, they wanted to pay just that one month at the basic slave ‘wage’ because we'd get half the pay-per-view for your three bullwhippings (days 1, 15, and 30) and 10 fights (days 3, 6, and on to 30). We asked for 20 months pay for the 30 days, like the usual two months between the 10 fights plus one before and after.”
“Those three bullwhippings mattered more to them than you training their men to fight without headshots. They ‘recruit’ so cheaply from the county that a concussion ending a dude's career and useful life doesn't bother them. So we reminded them that their gladiators’ ticket sales, pays per view, and betting are all drying up as folks get bored with anonymous thugs punching each other's lights out to end their careers in just one martial arts discipline -- kickboxing like Darren did, wrestling like Jamie, and brawling like you and Mike.”
“We showed them the views, pay-per-views, and subscriptions that Steve's Studs and Slave Steve's Greatest Hits have already generated. And we offered them no-concussion matches with buff construction studs like ours in popular, money-making mixed martial arts or MMA Ultimate Fighting – the sport that sold before slavery made one-discipline gladiator recruits cheap for buyers, cheap enough to throw away as punchdrunk ex-gladiators. Selling new slaves earns the county money, they don’t have to pay to jail the dudes, and the supply never runs out.”
So Phillips will pay for the 15 months that my 40% makes the six months that they tried to steal when they didn't tell me about the 10% amnesty on my five-year indenture. Back in my "Reluctant gladiator" prehistory on nifty.org/authoritarian, Attorney Jon, one of my masters now plus creator and trustee of my BVI trust that owns me and my men , and his wife Anne, my defence attorney, sprang me and Jamie from Phillips (Chapter 9). They had the stable’s top two (me n Mike) fight, then rented the winner (me) to impregnate Anne because her body rejected Jon’s fetuses (Chapter 11). “Our” son is developing nicely.
Gotta ask one more thing. “Sir! Am I a pain pig? Am I a blacksnake n ass-strap whore?”
He holds me n my glutes tight, rubs me easy. “No, Stud. But you are an endorphin junkie — why you work and train so intensely, with such dedication, trying for perfection. Why Hardwickes had to make you the littlest big Dawg (Chapter 8) . Do you notice what you do when you get bored waiting around?”
“Sir? No, Sir.”
“You drop for one-arm pushups, quietly, like you don’t want to be noticed. Remember doing that?”
“Sir! No, Sir, I don’t.” He smiles, swats my butt, both hands, pulls me tighter.
He goes on, “Taking the cane and strap and blacksnake, ‘beating’ the man swinging at you, must generate endorphins like winning a match with another fighter. What you told the apprentices getting punished with y’all last Thursday (Chapter 7), let the man hurt you but don’t let him break you. Endorphin junkie fits your endurance training, running, climbing, holding pullups. I understand. For my tennis, I like to train and play past wanting to quit too.”
========================================
ABOUT JASON
Mr JL – “When Mr DD and I wrapped with Phillips about your 30 days there, they asked if we wanted to buy Jason cheap. They valued that ex-Marine corporal, like you but with a better lawyer after his first conviction for molesting teenagers he was supposed to coach. Jason was just a corporal with that major conviction; you were a sergeant who grabbed a woman’s wrist in a bar after she slapped you for something you said, then you fought off a trucker who picked you up hitching and tried to put your mouth over his dick while he drove. Not like Jason using a position of trust to molest minors.”
“Jason had his lawyer sell him to your stable as an experienced NCO who understood fucked-up men like gladiators. He learned the gladiator business, got to know the other stables, helped with training and setting up matches, and kept y’all quiet enough not to bother the overseers.”
“Jamie said the men obeyed Jason but disliked and feared him, that he harrassed and raped them, and that Jason ragged you because you showed how much you resented him, but mostly because even worse than he ragged Jamie, Jason ragged you because he wanted to provoke you to master him.” Fuck! Any move on Jason would’ve got me flogged into dogfood.
“The stable managers didn’t mind him buggering their men – Jamie says ‘raping’ -- but they had to get rid of Jason when he got three convictions for molesting kids on a soccer team he coached. He was giving the stable and its men a bad rep, even if some folks thought the convict gladiators deserved him.”
“Now Jason’s their slave because when an indenture commits an offense that would get him enslaved, the slave bureau just registers him to the indenture holder — why Boss Henry said his Alabama Crimson Tide like their football jocks indentured so when a jock fucks up they can get him a better situation than a county auction, like what brought Boss Henry here.”
"Anyway, the stable wants to sell Slave Jason because he’s making their matches even less popular. We owners think he could help our team — training, setting up matches, promoting our no-head-shots league. Training will make him y’all’s overseer, but only during training times. We know he’s a bully, but you four (you, Mike, Jamie, and Darren) can have fun shaping this VERY junior overseer up when he’s not overseeing your gladiating; y’all can make sure he doesn’t abuse his overseeing y’all’s training."
“He gets the overseer’s bullwhip, cane, and the right to adjust attitudes with up to 12 lashes a month. But outside gladiator training, you captains are the team’s overseers, so y’all can adjust Jason by cane and bullwhip plus facefuck-strap. That’s no way gladiating, so he doesn’t have that. Plus you’re his master, up to 24 blacksnake lashes a month.”
“And all y’all will top him at his gladiator challenge because he’ll score way less at each event (up to 12 strokes each plank for cane, low pushup for tawse, overhead or back pushup for quirt to pecs n tits, then to balls n dick, finally hold pullup for front flogger, 12 pullups plus leg lifts for back bullwhip – end of Chapter 12). He’s out of shape, so when we compare his scores with each of y’all’s he’s y’all’s meat.”
“So why don’t you want to vote your 40 shares to help buy Jason? Why take three dozen blacksnake lashes the first night?" The (other) owners need me to vote my 40 shares to make the ¾ approval, and they can persuade me by blacksnake (not bullwhip when they all agree). First day 36 lashes, 24 next, 18 third. (Chapter 12)
“Sir! Besides not wanting that prick as an overseer again, even just for gladiator training, maybe it's honour that won't let me let him near Jamie and Luke, Sir! And I need to show him and my men what I’ll do to protect them, how much I don’t want him, Sir?"
He says to think about it, talk with my men.
Y’all get a break in the next Chapter 18. More action, less talk.
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