Today we set the next dozen years -- test us us guys for our futures -- our training and careers, our colleges and apprenticeships -- plus my relationship with Mike, especially, and my slave Jamie.  My attitude gets blacksnaked, caned, strapped, facefucked, and fucked.  Cocaptain Mike blacksnakes me into marrying him.  Ain't ALL about me gettin flogged n fucked -- give back, get worked.  Best is we train to fight like gladiators -- and Mike loves me, sometimes so much it hurts.  



I'm Steve, ex-Recon Marine, ex-gladiator slave, ex free man, ex slaveowner, now stud construction slave, soon driller blaster n gladiator.  

Y'all know all this shit's real -- ain't nobody weird enough to dream it up.  So much shit went down his next mornin that it's taken two-plus years to write up.  Workin, mostly, plus trainin and livin get in the way.  It takes time to sort it all out, and some of it's no fun to remember, neither.  Plus when it's taken so long it feels like it has to get way better ...  Like I say, takin dick n writin ain't my highest n best skills.  Maybe one of y'all's man enough to try to adjust MY attitude, motivate me better.



Yesterday was endorphin hell with muscles and whips.  Settin up the company -- I own 40% through an offshore BVI trust and a Delaware corporation but that own me and my guys -- hurt way too much.  But it'll pay off.  Yesterday started with me gettin bullwhipped n caned with Attorney Jon, then hauled with him naked in slave cages to his condo (Chapter 11).  In Chapter 12, me n Jon fuck n chill.  I told him how I belong to him.  Then I got caned by Jon to sell myself to a black man, Mr Kraus.  I get strapped by Mr Kraus to agree that my partners can flog n fuck me for my attitude.  I get blacksnaked to agree for them to cane facefuck fuck me -- plus Mike --  that afternoon, piss on us too.  

Mike -- gladiator champion, my mentor at the stable -- joined my crew.  The (other) owners found him at the quarry where the gladiator stable'd sold him.  Last night me n Mike got initiated competitively and painfully.  Show which stud holds out for more muscle and other punishment.  Bridge for cane, low pushup for tawse, back bridge for quirt to tits then balls, wide-grip pullups for front flogger, normal-grip pullups plus leglifts for bullwhip.  Went to the blacksnake tiebreaker for me to win (or Mike to let me win).  Winner me fucks loser Mike.  First.

Today starts in testosterone heaven with muscles and dicks.  Wish we could stay there.   I wake up spooned around and behind Mike, dick in him.  Plus my punk 18-year-old indenture Luke spooned behind and around me, his dick in me.  Meat in muscle sandwich.  We three frag, Mike's first time.  We roll over.  Luke does the hot lubes.  Mike in me (friendlier, easier'n he did back at the gladiators), me in Luke (never thought I'd do it until his dad, another owner, told me to).  Just a mellow shoot.  



0600.  Horn.  Cell door opens.  We walk out, stand tall, hold our gladiator straps.  (The "glad strap" fits in the back somewhere between a thong or tanga and a bikini bottom or posing strap -- wider between the cheeks than a thong, less on the tops of the cheeks than a bikini or posing strap.  The elastic ring from the waist band uplifts the balls and dick.)  

Lead hand Luke has his quirt too.  Luke n Overseer Pete both titbite (quirt) me for not introducing Mike.  Day begins.  

Back in the gladiator stable, Mike the champion took me on, got me almost civilized, less likely to hit back without thinkin.  What got me the two assault convictions that busted me outa the Marines, that made me a gladiator indenture, that set me up for a third strike and lifetime slavery.  What all the weekend's corporate stuff protects me from (Chapter 10), kinda.  

A new guy who's a massive stud like Mike, gladiator champ who got initiated by competitive floggin with me, gets LOTS of the hands-on attention that overseer Pete taught me to ignore.  Whatever gets squeezed, don't tense, don't flinch, don't speak, don't look.  Other guys' shorts but no shirts show any bullwhip or blacksnake tracks on back or chest but cover the butt n any cane tracks --- what our bareass gladiator straps make stand up.  

Outside the cell, in hallway, shower, washroom, mess hall.  Wolf-whistles, shy smiles, squeezes on the balls n butt, swats on the welts on butt back chest, pinches on the tits n welts.  I brace myself, breathe real steady.  My hand squeezin Mike's glute don't steady him.  My fist around his balls finally does.  "Chill, big guy.  Ain't NObody doin nothin.  Don't look.  Don't talk.  But smile n speak to a guy who smiles and speaks politely to your face."  

We pull clean gladiator straps on after the shower, after we shave everything south of the eyebrows like new slaves, after I show Mike the deodorant n sunscreen every guy has to use (new to him, after gladiators and quarry).  The gladiator strap showin our glutes n tackle don't cut the attention.  

Overseer Pete collects me, Mike, Luke, Jamie, Darren, herds us into the mess hall, through the chow line.  Trays in guys hands means fewer hands on us.  Pete herds us to a table, makes some intros, mostly to other overseers n my Big Dawgs, the heavy-lift crew me n Darren work with, that Mike will work with.  More hands-on attention.  Big Dawgs REAL happy to meet Mike.  He's more their size than me.  I'm the littlest Big Dawg but had to join them to get worked hard enough (Chapter 8).  

Pete wears just a jock n welts because he's gettin punished with us (after me n Darren raced up a scaffold -- Chapter 7).

Pete herds us through the washroom (says we need it NOW) to the classroom, says to wait while he collects Ape n Demon.  Ape's the former Mr Jackson, ex free man, ex would-be property developer, ex would-be criminal mastermind who ripped off the company he managed to support his development.  Company's Ace Plumbing & Electrical.  Why he's Ape now.  

Demon's Darren's 18-year-old kid brother, our new indenture, sixth team member, Luke's partner.  This morning his dad checked him out of his delinquents' bootcamp to start his indentured life with us gladiators.  He had to go back there for one last night after we met him yesterday.  Hope it was an easy night.  

Darren n Jamie are my two 23-year-old slaves, the guys I rescued from the gladiator stable, the ones I own through the trust and corporation that owns me too but leases me to Mr Kraus (Chapter 12).  When Pete leaves us, they look at me n Mike kinda shy.  Kinda smile but not really.  Say they don't want reps as wimps.  Me n Mike got the painful competitive initiation last night, to prove which hardass starts on top.  Their two 18-year-old brothers, Demon n Luke, get initiated tonight.  Big brothers don't wanna look weak, look chicken.  They want the gladiator initiation too.  Wanna see who's man enough to start on top.  They want me n Mike to join the floggin crew -- with Mr Hardwicke n Mr Whitmore, the owners of our Hardwicke Co.  My slaves say it's my call.  I look at Mike, he grins, I grin, we shrug.  How could I say no?  Mike hugs Darren, slaps his butt.  I hug Jamie, slap his butt.  

Mike asks me what I remember from last night.  I say I was afraid he'd never fuckin let go when we held to get caned n whipped.  Especially not for the wide-grip pullup position + straight-leg lift in the tiebreakin blacksnake.  Think I yelled, "Sirs!  That all y'all got?  Hit harder, Sirs!  Drop that soft fucker, SIRS!" cuz I didn't see how I could hold any longer.  

Mike asks if I remember sayin I loved him, wanted him with me forever.  Makes sense, hope I did, but I don't remember.  

Mike asks if I remember carryin him across the threshhold into our cell.  Makes sense, hope I did, but I don't remember.  He hugs me hard, tight.  Squeezes butt.  Looks down into my eyes.  Says he loves me too.  We connect, me stretchin up to kiss.  No stretch to stand balls to balls, risin dick to risin dick -- same length legs and arms, Mike's bigger trunk.  

Pete walks in with Ape n Demon.  Darren kinda pushes my shoulder.  

I look Pete in the eye, "Sir!  My slaves Darren and Jamie would like the gladiator initiation with their kid brothers tonight, if that's alright, Sir, and they want me n Mike to join the crew workin em.  Sir?"  

Pete braces, grins.  "Damn straight by me.  Way better show for the guys tonight.  I'll tell the bosses.  This means you and Mike will have to practise the events on each other.  Make sure they're hard enough but not TOO hard.  Y'all don't refight the blacksnake event.  Don't start World War III."  

"Sir!  Thank you, Sir!"  All six of us kinda smile, look at each other a little weird, don't relax.  



Finally we look around the classroom, maybe 25 foot square.  Where we started our training last Tuesday (Chapter 4).  There's Pete's table on one wall, seven tables in two rows on the opposite wall, open space between, some pullup bars.   Pete stands on our side of his table.  Every table, even Pete's, has an iPad and a couple straps.   Pete sends us each to the table with our name on it.  Says don't sit down yet.  Says put the big velcro strap around the left bicep.  It's a blood-pressure cuff plus some other stuff.  Measures pulse or heart rate, blood oxygen, testosterone, adrenaline, endorphins.  Transmits to the iPad.  We put those cuffs on tight but not so tight you can't work a finger under.  

Pete says, spread your legs hip-distance apart.  Pull your tackle over the waistband.  Wrap the little velcro strap around your dick close to the base.  Tight but not too tight.  These straps measure your dick as he grows n shrinks -- length and diameter.  Strain gauges.  Tuck the tackle back in.  Dick strap stays on except when you fuck or piss.  

Sit down.  iPads are ours, stay with us.  Open with our right index fingerprint.  Make sure iPad shows the heart rate and dick sizes.  Pulse should read maybe 10% higher than usual rest.  Dicks already grown from "1" to "2" or "3."  

"Gentlemen!  Good morning!  Hardwicke Co welcomes Steve's Studs, Gladiators."  Mr Hardwicke.  Too busy with dick gauges to see him come in.  When we start to stand, he tells us to relax while we can, because we start gladiator training this afternoon.  

"Many people have worked very hard to get all six of you here today.  Steve especially.  But also attorney Jon, we five owners and directors.  

"Mike, Steve, you two cocaptains will rank as overseers once y'all get through this six-month construction bootcamp that EVERY new guy starts -- overseer Pete did it, Mr Whitmore did it, I did it.  Attain-HUT!"  (Means stand up.  Straight.)  I jump, all 10 years a Marine.  Mike follows.  

"Captain Steve, Captain Mike, take these overseers' implements.  Cane, tawse, quirt, flogger, bullwhip.  Each.  Learn em well.   Use em well.  

"Y'all need to practise today to help in tonight's gladiator challenge.  Y'all's four guys plus the apprentices.  All the guys besides you two hardass studs need to show who's the hardass stud.  (Okay.)

"Steve's owner, Mr Kraus (the black man), sends this pair of straps too, with his compliments."  (Okay.)

Guys applaud, whistle.  "Sir!  Thank you, Sir!"  Mike n me answer but probably blush.  We follow the gesture to sit down again.  

"A gladiator wins by staying smarter, stronger, tougher, than the other guy.  Mentally tough, physically tough.  Inflict more pain and take more pain than the other guy can handle.  Inflict it more efficiently.  Better give-to-take ratio.  Like why men like to use the cane on y'all -- focuses the impact, the pain -- most pain for least effort and skill.  

"All y'all got new owners the last few days.  All y'all's owners will train with you today to prove we're committed.  To prove we mean business.  The same way the company initiation shows y'all that we mean business and that y'all show us y'all mean business.  Tonight Steve and Mike's young bucks take the same initiation that y'all's captains took last night.  

"This morning y'all get tested other ways.  Steve, Mike, Jamie, Darren -- y'all're gladiators and lifers.  Luke, Demon, you two indentures will spend your gladiator careers with us.  Then we turn you loose but hope you re-up.  We keep our lifers working for life.  Our guys end up productive, healthy, and fed in their own cells in our barracks, not under some bridge, not down some black hole of a mine where they might get fed.  Or not.  (Mike's great fear.)

"Y'all will damn well earn y'all's keep.  That starts now, when we help y'all find a career, a profession that keeps you turned on -- both heads -- for the next half-century or so.  We don't know what that is.  Maybe y'all know, maybe y'all have some ideas, but most free workers go through several careers, sometimes not really HAPPY in any of them.  Every one of our men is trained in what we need done that he'll do best.  What turns him on for life.  

"You indentures will work a year for us for every year we train or educate you.  This six-month bootcamp means another six months work and one year of an indenture.  You four that haven't finished high school will do the GED during bootcamp.  A two-year college diploma, say building maintenance or accounting, makes a total five-year indenture.  A half-year for blaster training makes the total six years.  

"A four-year trades apprenticeship, like carpenter or brickmason or plumber, means a total 10-year indenture, with the two years for bootcamp and GED plus blaster training.  So does a four-year bachelor's degree, like the trainer's kinesiology.  A five-year program like architect or nurse-practitioner means 12 years, like our medic.  The guy Steve calls a corpsman.  16 years if he adds a two-year masters in physiotherapy.  You finish the indenture with your trades red seal or your diploma and professional membership.  

"We invest in our men so we can outcompete the outfits that buy guys cheap, work em hard, break em, throw em away.  Like y'all's gladiator stable threw away Mike and Darren.  Would've thrown Jamie and Steve away.  We keep our guys smart, healthy, productive, and motivated.  For life.  

"This morning we learn what the experts call your aptitudes -- what you CAN do -- plus your interests -- what turns you on.  Find what you CAN do that matches what turns you on AND that we need.  Each one of you men will meet Dr Shrink privately to go over your results.  He'll go over each man's results with him, explore his interests.  Then he brings in the owners to work out each man's training and career.  Steve, Jon, Mike, and the other owners sign off.  After all that, we'll all start gladiator training together, men and owners, two sessions.  Our day wraps with the young studs' competitive gladiator initiations.    


"Sir!  Yes, Sir!"  I stand, brace.  

"Did the Marines talk about 'Fire for effect'?  With artillery or mortars, after you get the range, you fire for effect."  He shrugs, smiles, braces.  What the fuck?  I nod.  

"When you and Mike train to help initiate the other gladiators tonight, remember to fire for effect.  First cut on each other might be too heavy or too light, maybe the next one the other way.  But the second or third should be just right.  Impress the dude, hurt 'im, real bad, but don't damage 'im.  You two captains should get just-right in two or three cuts on each other.  But you, Stud Steve, have to hit like you mean it, not the way you let me off with just some kewl welts for the men to see after two dozen bullwhip cuts.  I didn't mind at the time, but make it fair to the dudes you're not hitting tonight."  


Mike's on his feet pretty quick for a middle-aged civilian, okay, 38-year-old gladiator champion."Sir!  Yes, Sir!"  

"Mike, make sure Steve gets that when he trains on you.  No matter how many cuts you two give each other to get him there.  Need to borrow a dude for target practice, or can you two handle it?"

"Sir!  Steve and I will handle this, Sir!"    



"Steve!"  Back on my feet, braced.

"Yesterday the directors told you to make their sons, Darren, Demon, Jamie, and Luke, belong to you the way you belong to Jon.  How did you tell Jon you belonged to him?"

Okay.  "Sir!  I told him I'd take a whip with him, for him, or from him.  I'd take a dick with him, for him, or from him.  Sir!"

"Remember how you came to belong to him?  Did it happen Saturday when he outran you, flogged you, fucked you -- when he 'mastered' you?"  

I have to think a minute.  "Sir!   Not then, Sir!"  

"Right, Steve.  When did it happen?  When did you know?"  

"Sir!  I knew I belonged to Jon after he got bullwhipped, caned, facefucked, and fucked with me at the slave barracks.  When he took all that shit that he didn't have to.  Shit that was meant for me but that he shared.  He took the bullwhip, the cane, and the dicks with me and for me.  He took 10 canecuts for me from y'all, the directors, too, Sir!"  Fuck!  

Boss leans in.  "WHEN did you know?"

Try to think.  Bracin helps.  "Sir!  I knew I belonged to Jon when I told him that I'd take a whip with him, for him, or from him, and that i'd take a dick with him, for him, or from him.  I knew that after he'd taken a bullwhip, a cane, and two dicks with me, for me, even before he took 10 canecuts from y'all, the directors, Sir!"  

Boss grins.  "Right!  Sharing with you what he didn't have to take showed that he COMMITTED to you."  

Mr Hardwicke goes on, sounding real positive now.  "Did the slave barracks MASTER you?  (Chapter 11)"  

"Sir!  Damn straight, Sir!  Naked, hangin from that rack in the courtyard with all the guys around.  The dozen bullwhip cuts, six canecuts, two dicks, Sir!  But I don't belong to them, Sir!"  

"Right! Steve."  Mr Hardwicke leans into me, into his subject.  "Why not?  Did they commit to you?

"Sir!  No, Sir!  They just showed off with us for their guys.  I hope we never see them again.  Oh, but Jon might on business."

"Right! Steve."  He relaxes, flares.  "See, you belong to a man you respect and who respects you, who masters you, AND who commits to you.  It takes all three -- respect, master, commit.  Like Mr Whitmore and I with Boss Henry."  

"So y'all ain't just Boss Henry's owners.  Y'all're his masters too?  Makes sense, Sir"  

"Surprise, Steve.  Boss Henry is OUR master.  He mastered the living hell out us in our bootcamp before we came out as the owners.  We told him to give us the full slave experience, so we'd understand our men.  We told him to make the bootcamp real, like the military, so every man belongs to the company, even us.  He put it to the guys that he had to win a blacksnake competition to get us from the Army.  You can guess how we looked when we crawled out of the slave-transport cages.  Boss Henry and the other overseers caned us enough that we spent most of our bootcamp wearing just jocks and boots, so the cane tracks showed.  We belonged to the company then, we committed to the company and its men, but we didn't belong not to Boss Henry.  Not yet.

"We knew we belonged to him after we took over.  We gave him his freedom but he gave us an indenture until he hits 75.  Indenture with the same rights to adjust and all that we have over you.  Then we knew he'd committed to us.  

"So we belong to him.  He takes us on enough to remind us, keep us straight.  Feels great to belong to such a man."  He rolls his shoulders, flexes, kinda smiles.  His shorts bulge in front too.    

Boss smiles big.  "You know you belong to him too, Steve?"  

Uh...  "Sir!  No, Sir!   He sure mastered me Saturday night (chapter 10), but he didn't say anything about continuing, Sir!"  

Boss steps back, thinks.  "Remember what he did before he took you on?"  

I know this"Sir!  He got blacksnaked like a slave, 24 cuts, for missing his fitness targets.  Sir!"

"Right, Steve!  He took that like a real stud to show you, the other overseers, and every other dude that he plays by the rules too.  Did that show YOU he committed?  

"And, Steve, you should know that Boss Henry chose you to run with us, Boss Big Dog, and just a couple other overseers in his crew.  He let us have Mike.  

"You've committed all to hell to your guys.  Now master 'em."  

Fuck!  "Sir!  Yes, Sir!"    



Mr Hardwicke nods for me n Mike to sit down.  "Men, your iPad and sensor straps do most of the testing but not all.  After the tests of strength and manhood (we groan) y’all sit down, keep the earbuds in ears and eyes on the screen, do what the machine tells you.  If you need to use the washroom, signal Pete.  When he gives you the nod, just one at a time, keep the biceps cuff but leave the earbuds and dick strap.  Y'all also get some other, uh, exercises.  Pete will handle all that.

"Pete will be doing his own testing with y'all, some for us like y'all, some for one of his classes.  

"Ape gets tested too.  That will help us and his new owner, ex-employer decide what to do with him when we know how much he stole, how much he cost.  

"Up to you men now.  Do your best.  Just like your life depends on it.  (We groan, roll eyes.)  It does."  

We stand as he leaves.  Just have time to sit back down.  

Pete -- "Steve!  On your feet!"  I stand, brace.  "Lose the jock!"  


"Right.  Steve, lose the gladiator strap!"  It comes off, onto the table next to the iPad.  Dick, damn him, grows.

"Steve!  Front and centre!  Hands behind your head.  Feet hip distance apart.  Brace!"  I do.  What the fuck?  

"Gentlemen!  Ape too.  (I'd forgotten him.)  Mr Hardwicke said not all the testing happens on the iPad.  The other part starts here.  But keep the biceps n dick straps.  Dick strap off only to piss or fuck.  They read an important part of what gets tested today.  

"Steve, the directors have some questions.  You ready?  Or do I make my blacksnake debut?"  Picks up coiled blacksnake from the table behind him.  (Blacksnake's longer than bullwhip.  Lead shot on the straight piece in the braided lash gives it more momentum, snap n bite harder.  Didn't know overseers used one.  Thought just the owners, Mr Hardwicke n Mr Whitmore did.)  Flicks it out past me.  Swings.

Blacksnake wraps around me.  Snaps hard n tight.  Fuckin ouch!  Ring of fuckin fire, back, ribs, pecs, especially a tit that hurts too much to tell me which one, n I can't look.  

"Steve!  Answer!  You ready?"  Blacksnake wraps the other way before I can answer.  Bro blacksnake last night destroyed my back.   This wrap does back plus chest plus ribs between.  I hurt too much to think.  Let alone to talk.  Not even sure I can keep standin.  

Blacksnake flicks but don't swing.  Yet.  "Steve?"

"Sir!  Yes, Sir!  Ready, Sir!"  Even I can learn.  Just slow and painful.  

I can't keep standing.  All my whippings have had something for me to hold.  To stay upright.  Canings happened me holding my ankles, jackknifing tits to quads.  Or over a table, dick in mouth.  Pete looks over my shoulder.  Something moves.  Maybe I remember velcro sound, hot-lube smell.  

A man's all over my back.  Arms under mine, hands behind my neck.  Full nelson.  Dick at my hole.  Chest wider than my back.  Chest shaved but stubble already.  Feels kewl on my hot, whipped, worked back.  Welts rub my welts.  Head, shoulders higher than mine.  Mike!  Darren's an inch taller n me, not this big, not this strong.  Not all the welts.  Not the man who'd be here for me.  

"Here for you, big guy.  We'll get you through this.  Always here for you.  Always get you through."   Mike's deep voice.  Hear the muscles in it.  

I relax against Mike.  Feels real good.  Real safe.  Fuck!  Weird!  

Pete nods again.  Mike pulls me closer.  More secure.  Fuck!  

Pete says, "Directors want to know, do you prefer getting a dick or a whip?"  Fuck!  

"Sir!  Whip, Sir."  Pete grins.  

"Whip or cane?"  

"Sir!  Whip, Sir."  Pete grins.  

"if it's a cane, bent double or over a bench with a dick?"  

"Bent double, Sir!"  That lets me brace tits into quads, still feel like a man.  Man don't swallow dick.  

"Why?"  Fuck!  I probably blush.  Mike holds me tighter.  Presses his quads against my hamstrings.  His hips n pelvis against my glutes.  His dick against my hole.  My dick don't stop growin.  My hole damn near reaches for Mike's dick.  Our legs are the same length, like I said, so his dick's right there.  His trunk's longer, wider.  

"So I feel like a man, Sir.  Take it like a man.  Win the fight WITH the man, like you said Thursday night (Chapter 7).  Look, feel like a stud!"  

Pete looks me in the eye, raises an eyebrow.  Fuck!  


Pete relaxes his shoulders.  A little.  Smiles.  A little.  

"Steve, have you ever asked for a dick?"  

"Sir!  No sir!"

Pete grins at the guys. "That right, men?  Steve ever ask for a dick?"  

Must be Jamie.  "Sir!  Yesterday he asked for a dick twice.  Well, couldn't exactly ASK cuz he had a dick in his mouth.  Both times.  But he pointed to his ass with both hands for Jon to fuck after Jon caned him.  Pointed with both hands for Mr Kraus to fuck him after Mr Kraus strapped him, Sir!"  (Chapter 12)

Fuck!  Blacksnake hung over my chest, left shoulder to right tit.  Snapped onto em!  Hurt all along the line right away.  Jesus H Christ!  Snapped me onto Mike's hot-lubed dick. Glad he was there.  For me.  Dick felt good.  Even though the hot lube made my hole burn too.  Especially the way my chest burned when the nerves recovered enough to register.  Like Pete was burning my hide off.  Branding my ribcage.  

Mirror image!  Right shoulder to left tit!  How's he get that damn snake back so fuckin fast?  At least Mike's muscle n dick feel good.  His stubbly welted chest feels kewl on my welted worked back.  His strong deep voice sounds good too.  "Show the man what you're made of."  

Fuck!  Had to smile.  Almost.  "Sir! (to Mike)  He done tore me open so's he can see."  Fuck.  Didn't know I could sound that redneck.  Guys laugh.  Relax.  A bit.  Smell testosterone.  Endorphins.  

Pete looks real proud.  "So you, uh, like my blacksnake debut?  Answer!"  

"Sir!  Not exactly LIKE, Sir!"  Pete grins big.  

"But you make a great first impression, Sir!"  

"Just remember, bad answer gets bad snakebite."  

"Sir!  Yes, Sir!"  

"Right!  You ever ask for a whip?"  

"Sir!  NO fuckin way, Sir!"  

Blacksnake shoulder-tit pair.  

"Okay, men.  Steve ever ask for a whip?"  

Fuckin Jamie again.  "Sir!  Thursday night, our competitive floggin show (Chapter 7).  Steve won the pullups, so he just got six front blacksnake while all the rest of us, even you, Sir, got the bullwhip plus more blacksnake front n back.  The Boss (Mr Hardwicke) asked Steve if he needed six blacksnake on his back too.  Steve said yes.  Took em.  Shot.  Sir!"  

Pete said, "Y'all don't know this, but Mr Hardwicke said the man at the slave barracks could give Steve just 10 yesterday.  The man told Steve a stud like him needed at least 12.  Steve agreed.  (Chapter 11)"  

Pete looked over my shoulder to Mike, stepped closer.  Mike braced me tighter.  Pete smiled, swung, snapped.  Wrapped Mike, bit me, maybe bit Mike too.  Twice.  Both ways.  Holy fuck!  Glad Mike had me.  My hole must've clenched tight enough to break his dick off.  

"Always here for you, big guy.  This is OUR position."  Mike's full nelson pulled me tighter, pulled everything closer onto him.  His dick thrust deeper.  Fuck!  This makes me feel almost good.  

 Pete grins.  "Prefer a whip chinnin up a bar or leanin on a man's chest n dick?"  

"Sir!  On MIke's chest n dick, Sir, in his arms."   Fuck!  Never imagined I'd say this.  Never imagined I'd be where I meant it.  Maybe some noises from the guys.  

Mike holds tighter with his elbows (fuller nelson?), slides dick out then drives in way deeper.  

Pete smiles, rolls his shoulders.  Steps back, flicks the whip out.  Says the directors have some propositions that need my approval. (I own 40% of the shares, and some actions require 75% owner support -- Chapter 12.)

"Mike," I damn near whine, "can they do this again?  I got all adjusted yesterday."  

Pete grins, looks at Mike.  

Mike says, "Shareholders agreement limits their attitude-adjusting to 24 bullwhip, blacksnake, or cane cuts per month; yesterday you got 12.  Cane.  With me.  12 to go this month.  The agreement limits their persuasion to 24 cuts per proposition -- the first day.  You just said you want all 24 persuasion cuts by blacksnake -- the whip not cane.  You got adjusted at the slave barracks with Jon too (12 bullwhip, six cane, two dicks -- Chapter 11).  But so far this is just discipline -- no limit -- for bad answers or no answer."

Fuck!  Pete grins, flexes, flares.  Mike flexes, flares.  Humps me deeper.  

Pete grins, rolls shoulders, flexes.  Blacksnake flicks.  "Directors have some propositions they want you to approve.  That's why they're talkin to you by blacksnake.  (Blacksnake not bullwhip when all five directors agree.)  Hopin this helps a hardass like you understand."  Pete grins.  Snake flicks.  

"Ready, boy?"  Mike flexes bigger.    

Mike flexes his pecs n shoulders into my back, shoulders, tris.  Reminds me, just as blacksnake bites shoulder-tit-pec each way.  One pair.  Two down, 22 of the 24 persuasion cuts to go.  Fuck!  "Sir!  Yes, Sir!"  

"Proposition one:  Your new team members, Mike and Demon, cane you four cuts each, then fuck you.  You down, slave?"  

"Sir!  Why, Sir?  I own THEM.  Uh, my trust owns them.  Slaves don't flog n fuck owners, Sir!"  

Pete grins.  Blacksnake BITES both ways.  Burns deeper, hotter.  Persuasion pair number two.  20 to go.  

"Couple reasons, stud!  You bullwhipped Mr Hardwicke twice, fucked im once.  (Topped him at pullups and a 10k run.)  Your first three guys caned you four each -- makes the dozen, twice -- then fucked you.  (Chapter 2)  You don't wanna cheat your two new guys.  Do you, SLAVE?"  Pete grins, Mike flexes, snake flicks.  

"Sir!  No, sir!  I want Mike n Demon to cane me, fuck me.  But just four each, Sir!"  

"Good boy!"  

"Sir!  Thank you, Sir!"  

Pete flares wider.  Makes blacksnakin shoulder, arm flex bigger.  Mike flexes deeper.  

"Mike, I hear yesterday you asked the owners to, uh, assert their authority and your availability on you and Steve as cocaptains, not just on Steve as owners's agent.  Steve, Mike, should the men cane n fuck both cocaptains?"  

I tried to look over my shoulder at Mike, but he pulled me tighter, said, "Sir!  Yes, Sir!  I want every one of our gladiators to cane me, four cuts each, Sir, plus fuck me.  Make me their cocaptain, Sir!"  

Pete looked at me hard.  "Slave, you want Big MIke to share your team this way?"  

"Sir!  Yes, Sir!  I want to share OUR gladiators with my partner Mike, Sir!"  

The guys laugh, yell loud enough that even I notice.  

Pete relaxes.  Blacksnake, Mike relax too.  Pete says we'll do these cane n fucks before we start the rest of the test.  

"Question, Mike!"  Pete looks right into him.  "Four cuts each makes 20.  You down with that to start a day sitting on wooden chairs?  We could make it three each."  

"Sir!  No, Sir!  I need to earn the position.  Like Steve.  Sir!"  

Wow!  We both flexed taller.  Mike drove deeper.  He growled not to shoot.  Yet.

Bodybuilder Pete grins wider, flexes wider, flares  "Something for after the formal testing too.  This next one's more complicated, so I'll say it r-e-a-l  s-l-o-w."  

"Directors say you don't suck dick.  Not well enough.  They want me to give you incentives to take cock better.  With me so far, slave?"

"Sir!  Yes, Sir!"  

"Here's how it goes down.  You over this table.  Balls n dick off one edge.  Head n mouth off the other.   With me so far, slave?"

"Sir!  Yes, Sir!"  

"You get my dick in your face.  This-here strap on your tail."  He holds up, snaps, a strap like Mr Kraus used, like I took at the slave bureau, like me n Pete used Saturday night (Chapter 10).  "From the pair Mr Kraus sent.  Not in your contract -- shareholder agreement -- so no limit.  With me so far, slave?"

"Sir!  Yes, Sir!"  

"I strap your sorry ass till you get my hot dick off.  First incentive.  First competition.  With me so far, slave?"

"Sir!  Yes, Sir!"  

"We make it more competitive.  Luke gets under the table, holds your studly thighs, sucks you off.  With me so far, slave?"

"Sir!  Yes, Sir!"  

"First cocksucker who gets his man off wins.  If Luke gets you off before you get me off, Luke wins.  And I still strap your sorry sore ass till you finish your job for me.  Just hurts you more after you come.  When you finish me, Luke fucks your sorry sore ass.  His payoff.  With me so far, slave?"

"Sir!  Yes, Sir!"  

"If you get me off before Luke gets you off, strap stops, you win.  With me so far, slave?"

"Sir!  Yes, Sir!"  

"If you win, cuz you already finished me, you take my place.  Luke takes yours. You strap him till he gets you off.  Your payoff.  Demon takes Luke's place on Luke's dick.  I work you with a tawse to keep both your heads in the game.  With me so far, slave?"

"Sir!  Yes, Sir!"  

"Demon wins if he gets Luke off before Luke gets you off.  You keep on strappin Luke till he gets you off.  Demon fucks Luke's sorry sore ass.   His  payoff.  While I tawse him, his sorry ass.  With me so far, slave?"

"Sir!  Yes, Sir!"  

"Luke wins if he gets you off before Demon gets him off.  Then he fucks Demon.  While I tawse him.  With me so far, slave?"

"Sir!  Yes, Sir!"  

"You down with this, uh, trainin, slave?  The strap'll make the canecuts feel even better."  Pete grins evil, flexes evil.  Makes me want even less to answer.  Or not answer.

Mike flexes deeper, flexes my sorry sore pecs n tits out farther.  Snake bites twice.  Pair three.  18 to go.  Naw!  22 to go on this proposition.  Fuck!      

"Sir!  Yes, sir!"  

Pete asks, "You want Mike to share this with you too?  Directors say he don't suck too good neither."  He grins at Darren, talkin like him.  "Darren stands in for me, Jamie for Luke, Ape for Demon.  Y'all down?"    

Pete steps in.  Nods at Mike.  Mike wraps me tighter,  Snakebite seven wraps us, bites us, burns us -- our left ribs, Mike's back, our right ribs, my pecs n tits.  Mirror-image snakebite eight finishes us.  I shoot the 10 feet into Pete's open mouth, Mike shoots up me, we frag.  Didn't notice Pete's unjocked dick till he shot into my mouth.  Maybe Pete fragged too.  Heard our guys groan, shoot onto Mike's back.  Heard Luke n Demon lick Mike clean.  

I look over my shoulder at Mike.  Mike leans in so I can see his eye.  He winks, squeezes, says. "Sure, Sir!  I'm Steve's cocaptain.  We share initiations and tests, Sir!"

Mike says I gotta get Jon to reprogram me to get to yes under six cuts.   Everybody laughs.  I relax.  For now.  

Pete rolls, flexes.  Blacksnake flicks.  Me n Mike tense.  "One more proposition."  

"Sir!  Yes, Sir!"  

"The directors want y'all to take ownership of the men the way the directors did y'all (Chapter 12).  The way Mr Hardwicke just told Steve.  Master em.  On y'all's own time.  Cane six cuts each, facefuck, fuck.  Add strap or whatever too.   Don't have to piss on em.  (Guys snort,)  Okay.  Piss on em if they need it. In the shower, not a cell.  

"Steve starts with Mike.  Then  Mike does Steve. Then Mike and Steve do the four dudes.  Start with each other.  Maybe do what me n Steve did Saturday (Chapter 10 -- I do to him what he should do to me, enough n hard enough or I get double.)   Y'all down with that?"  

"Sir!  Yes, Sir!"  Both of us!  

Mike pulls out.  Holds my left arm. helps me stand.  Luke helps on my right.    Demon wipes Mike's dick.  Pete says to sit down.  Everybody's dick back into glad(iator) straps for our six guys, jock straps for Pete n Ape.  Take a break.  For now.  Washroom, then dicks back into strain straps, then coffee and snacks.  Lotsa time to work the first proposition before the 0800 start.



Break ended too soon.  Me, Mike, Demon front n centre.  We three hug.  Mike, Demon each swats a glute.  Squeezes it.  Swats again.  Hard.  I bend, grab ankles, flex tits into quads, flex glutes n hamstrings.  Stretch left leg, then right.  At least stretch feels good.  Dude, probably Luke, supports me from the front.  One quad each side of my back, ribs.  Hands on me out of the cane's way.  Luke takes care of his guardian -- me.  

Two rangin cuts.  Mike's deep voice.  "Ready, slave?  Count em!"  Feel the air, hear the swing, hear the crash.  High centre, left glute, then right.  FEEL THE FUCKIN BURN.  

Knocks the wind outa me.  Can't talk.  "Eh, boy?"  SAME FUCKIN TRACK!  These're home runs, not just base hits.  

Wake up, dammit!  "Sir!  One, Sir!"  Flex, try to present.  "Ready, Sir!"  Try to show stud for my man Mike.  Lean into Luke.  

FUCK!  Left glute, then right.  Low centre.  Breathe.  Show my man.  "Sir!  Two, Sir!  Ready, Sir!"  Flex.  

Mike must change sides.  Low right glute, down where the muscle's thinner, to low left.  "Sir!  three, Sir!  Ready, Sir!"  Flex.  One to go.  From Mike.  

High right glute down to low left.  "Sir!  Four, Sir!  Thank you, Sir!  Whenever you're ready to fuck me, Sir"  

Deep voice says, "Good boy."  Then to Luke, "I'll hold our slave.  You get us ready."  Mike's strong hands take my hips.  

Through my legs, I see Luke rub hot lube on big Mike's big dick, feel Luke shove hot lube up my almost-waitin hole.  

"Stud!"  Mike.  "Need this man's hot dick in that slave pussy?"  Swats both glutes.  Dead on the cane tracks.  Drives me back into Luke's legs.  

Swats again.  Squeezes balls hard.  "Answer me, slave!  Whaddya need?"  

Cane gets my attention.  Again.  "Answer, me, pussy."  Cane!

Fuck!  This is the man I own in five years.  The champion I fought, pinned, n fucked for my freedom.  Gotta talk.  "Sir!  Your dick's what I need after your cane, Sir!"  

"Good boy!  Mmm, good pussy too.  Slave pussy needs man dick."  Mike pulls out.  Ramrods in.  Thrusts me onto Luke's legs.  Luke thrusts me back, deeper onto Mike.  Mike drills.  Maybe jackhammers.  My hole halfway up to my gut hurts like my caned ass.  My dick's strain gauge must blow its fuse.  Mike frags.  I frag.  Luke frags.  Mike shoots up me.  I shoot onto my chest (don't know how dick got there).  Luke shoots onto my back n neck.  Our guys n Ape (forgot him) help us stand.  Luke feeds me his spunk.  Demon feeds me mine.  

Blacksnake wraps easy around the group.  This time just once.  Forgot Overseer Pete.  "Break, y'all.  

"Steve!  Thank Mike n Luke!  Prep for Demon!"  

FUCK!  Mike's just the first half of the first proposition.  "Sir!  Yes, Sir!  Thank you, Mike and Luke, Sirs!"  Mike hugs me, picks me up.  I relax onto him.  He sets me down, swats my sore ass, turns me around, looks from my eyes to his dick, like he wants me to clean it by mouth.  Luke saves my honour, "Sir, Steve's mouth's not part of the deal, Sir."  Luke turns me back around, hugs me, says he'll always take care of me.  I REALLY thank him.  Hug back.  

I grab a quick coffee n orange juice mix, an energy bun.  Luke makes sure I get to the washroom.  Dick strap back on.  Showtime.  Again.  Demon's turn.  Mike says he'll take care of me this time.  

Mike grabs my hips, bends me over, puts his thighs around my back.  Like Luke did.  

Demon moves in, holds my cheeks, squeezes yesterday's and this morning's canecuts, swats.  Steps back.  Says, "Make me proud to meet my master, my cocaptain, slave."  

Ranging cuts.  REAL CUT.  "Answer me, slave."  Cuts again before I can.  No wonder they call him Demon.  Mike growls, clamps my lats.  

"Sir!  I'll make you proud to cane your master, fuck your cocaptain, Sir!"  

"Good boy!  Ready, slave?"  

Mike clamps, growls.  I answer, "Sir!  Ready, Sir!"  

Demon's fuckin GOOD!  What a fuckin swing!  Uses all those young muscles, ankles to wrists.  Maybe Mike held back, maybe just a little.  Demon don't.  Where'd he learn?  His badboy boot camp?  He didn't just practise on his pillow.  

"Answer me, slave."  Cuts again before I can.  

Mike knees, growls.  I answer, "Sir!  Yes, Sir!  Number one, please, Sir!"    

Mike shifts, holds tighter.  I hear the windup, hear the swing, feel the breeze, flex just in time for the impact.  High centre, left glute, then right.  Demon's cane's a poker straight from hell!  

"Sir!  One, Sir!  Ready, Sir!"  High centre left glute to high centre right glute.  Right over Mike's cut.  Flex.  Flex tits into quads.  Stretch glutes n hamstrings.  Flex into Mike's strong thighs.  

"Sir!  Two, Sir!  Ready, Sir!"  Flex.  Glad Mike's got me.  At least the parts not gettin burned just now.  

Demon must change sides.  Low right glute across to low left.  Right on top of Mike's.  

"Sir!  Three, Sir!  Ready, Sir!"  

High right glute down to low left.  Right on top of Mike's.  Gotta end this.  "Sir!  Four, Sir!  Please fuck your master n cocaptain, Sir!  Please show him you're stud enough to be his slave gladiator, Sir!"  

Mike purrs, "Good boy.  Even a hardass like you can learn -- the hard way."  

"Sir!  Thank you, Sir!"    

Butt slaps n squeezes.  I watch Demon hotlube his dick.  Through my legs.  Jackknife.  Feel him curry my curried fucked hole.  Feel his shaved balls in my shaved crack.  Feel his hard young dick up my hole.  Feel his hard young muscle around me.  

"Whaddya need, boy"  Says the kid just over half my age -- 18 to my 33.  The kid I take on for an indenture to save him from life slavery like his big brother, Darren.  

"Sir!  My slave ass needs your stud dick, Sir!"  I said that?  

"You got it, boy!"  He fuckin piledrives harder n Mike, too, just like he canes.  Piledrives as far in as Mike.  But so many men have piledriven me since that weekend at Doc's (Chapter 2) that it's hard to compare.  Demon dick needs full attention.  Demon drives his demon dick into me.  Drives me onto Mike's thighs.  Lotsa times.  

Demon frags into me.  I shoot, frag, down my chest, just like I did for Mike.  Mike shoots down my back n neck, just like Luke did.  The guys help us stand.  Feed me my spunk n Mike's.  

Blacksnake wraps the group.  Overseer Pete.  "Break, y'all.  Get Steve cleaned up, cleaned out.  Feed im.  Get im ready to take Mike."  Luke, Demon wrestle me to the washroom, onto the toilet, say, "Go."  I did.  They make sure I wipe well.  Walk me back.  Enough guys have caned me, fucked me, done me that this shouldn't matter.  Gotta shape up quick.  Coffee + orange juice, energy bun.  Ready.  



Back to Captain Steve, target Mike, our four guys, Ape.  

"Time to welcome hardass cocaptain Mike.  Steve first.  Then Darren, Jamie.  Y'all have history with Champion Mike.  Take a break after the first three fucks so Mike can clean out.  Then Luke, Demon.  Finish with a quick coffee n snack, cold shower, clean, uh, gladstrap."  

Demon gets me n Mike through the washroom, gets us positioned, gets us hotlubed.  Demon braces up Mike the way Luke did me.  

I hold, rub, squeeze Big Mike's big glutes.  Knuckles into tight muscles by his shoulder blades.  Tell im, relax, ain't your first rodeo.  Flex.  Breathe.  

I position to his left side for my right swing.  I try to relax, flex, breathe.  This is MY Mike.  Try to relax the whiteknuckle grip.  Position tap.  Rangin tap.  

Homerun-hit position.  "Ready, slave?  Ready to meet your master?  (Well, in five years.)"

No answer.  Homerun swing.  I hear the air.  Watch the picture swing.  See -- fuck! feel! -- the impact.  Watch the dent in Mike's gladiator glutes.  Watch the colour go white, turn red.  Watch the dent rebound.  Watch the welt grow.  My breathing changes.  Mike's don't.  

Swing!  Hard!  Mike's glutes change shape, colour.  Mike's breathing don't change.  No Mike muscle twitches.  I sweat.  He don't.  

Fuck!  "Ready, boy?"  Best swing ever.  No answer.  

I reach through.  Grab, squeeze his balls.  No colour change.  No breathing change.  Twist!  Fuck!  

Homerun swing!  "Answer your master, slave!"  Homerun swing!  

"Hey, little girl.  Back to your stitch-n-bitch sewing circle.  I'm joining a gladiator team.  Not some tea party."  Mike rocks me back.  

Best.  Ever.  Home.  Run.  Swing!  "Ready, boy?"  No reaction.  No answer.  

I rest the tip on the far glute, so it'll bite not just dent.  Look at Pete, raise an eyebrow.  He shakes no.  

I nod at Luke.  He n Darren grab tawses.  Work me.  Back, butt, chest.  Must blow a fuse in the dick strain gauge.  

Reposition.  Wind up.  Swing.  Connect.  "Answer your master, boy!"

"Ready when you are, boy."  Mike don't really answer.  Don't need no fuckin challenge just now.  But maybe this sets me up for testing, gladiator training.  Working to master my men.  

Brace, flex, roll for the tawses.  Hold out my dick n balls.  Yes!  

Windup.  Swing.  Follow through.  

"Gettin almost close, slave."  Fuck Mike!  Okay.  Fuck Mike UP.  

Rub his butt, back, thighs, balls easy.  Kneel.  Mouth his dick.  Hotlube dick, balls, crotch, hole.  Watch his eyes.  Stand up.  Swat easy.  Hard.  Hold his balls real nice.  Roll em.  Slide cane up, down, around.  Tap easy.  Step away.  Watch his dick reach out to me.  

Wind up.  Swing.  Follow through.  Mike jerks.  Damn near knocks Demon on his ass.  

"Answer your master, slave!"  While I swat, hold, roll, squeeze the cane cut,roll, squeeze Mike's balls.  Feel Mike move under my hand.  

Wind up.  Swing.  Follow through.  Mike jerks.  Damn near knocks Demon on his ass.  

"Answer your master, slave!"  

"One, Sir!  About fuckin time, Sir!"  

Wind up.  Swing.  Follow through.  Mike jerks.  Damn near knocks Demon on his ass.  

"Two, Sir!  Who's the hardass, Sir?"  Mike grins up through his legs.

Wind up.  Swing.  Follow through.  “That one don’t count, boy.  Just a little something to welcome the new boy to the hardass gladiator team.”  Hold, squeeze a glute.  

“Sir  Thank you, Sir.  Ready, Sir!”  

Wind up.  Swing.  Follow through.  

Take the cane again, watch Mike watch me change sides.  Wind up.  HOME RUN!  

“Three, Sir!  Ready for cut four, Sir!”  

“Good boy.”  Pat Mike's butt, balls.  See, feel him relax, flex, stretch.  

“Make me hurt my hand, boy!”  See, feel him relax, flex, stretch.  

“Four, Sir!  Thank you, Sir!  Please fuck me like you cane me, Sir!”  

Luke slips off my dick’s strain gauge, hotlubes my dick, Mike’s hole (again), Mike’s caned butt, Mike’s balls n strain-gauged dick.  

“What’s my hardass need?”

“Sir!  My hard ass needs his master’s hard dick, Sir!  Please, Sir!”  

I move in, feel around, let Mike feel my balls in his crack, my hands on his balls, his hips.  Feel my dick when dick shoves straight in while Luke tawses my own sore ass.  Feel, hear Mike’s polite ‘yes-sirs’ change to moans.  Ram him so hard it rams my balls too.  

“Ready, boy?  Ready to frag for your master, boy”  

He don’t answer.  Just frags, shoots.  Looks, sounds like Demon does too.  Down Mike’s back, neck.  Guys around us shoot onto me, Demon.  I pull out.  Guys stand us up.  Someone, maybe Luke, licks the spunk off me.  Demon feeds his n Mike’s to Mike.  Guys stand us up.  Hug.  I pull Mike real close, balls to balls.  Pete wraps the blacksnake.  Pulls us even closer.  

“Break, y’all.”  Pete.  “Next!”  Means Darren steps up to the plate.  

Maybe Darren just swings meaner, harder.  That history from the gladiator stable.  I was gonna get Jamie at the end of my indenture (long story).  I wanted Jamie to stay uncut.  Jamie got Darren to skin him with a piece of scrap steel.  In the mess hall.  Champion Mike caned Darren 18.  Overseer told me to cane Jamie.  When I couldn’t, Mike caned me, then Jamie.  

Darren stands REAL proud,  His chance.  Calls real deep, “Ready, SLAVE?”  

Mike answers him straight up.  Hardass but no hardass attitude.  “Sir, Yes, Sir!  Please cane me, Sir!”  

Darren swings.  Mike woulda jumped but Demon was on him.  “One, Sir!”  Two, three, four followed like mine for Mike.  Darren don’t need no tawse to perform.  Must be the history.  Or maybe a less complex relationship.  

“What’s your sorry sore slave ass need, boy?”  

“Sir!  My sorry sore slave ass needs your hard man dick, Sir!”  

“Got it, boy!”  Lube.  Position.  Plunge.  Piledrive.  

Can’t tell if they frag.  Mike, Demon shoot.  Don’t see the other guys shoot.  They stand,  Hug easy.  No blacksnake.  

Goes as easy, as smooth when Jamie does Mike.  Break,  The kids walk Mike to the washroom to clean im up, clean im out.  

Pete tosses cloths for us to clean up.  Says no gladstraps yet.  Dick gauges onto me n Jamie, not Darren.  



Jamie in front of me, Darren behind me, brace me up.  Darren steps REAL close, grabs, pulls my collar, steps his naked tackle into my naked crack.  Men started grabbing me this way on the weekend at orthopod Doc's (Chapter 2), but most tackles weren't naked, most dicks weren't in my hole.  Jamie grins, takes a tit in each hand, mimics redneck Darren.  "Fucked-up master need stud slave's stud dick, eh, baw-eee?"  Drawls "boy" out like Darren.  

We all three crack up.  Good thing the guys steady me.  "Fucked-up master wanna know what just went down?"  Jamie.  While he twists tits.  

"Sir!  Yes, Sir!"  

Jamie shifts his hands from my tits to my pecs.  Darren pulls me into Mike's position.  Full nelson plus dick.  Deep but not too deep.  Darren n his dick help me relax, just maybe not concentrate.  Weird!  They treat me as fucked-up as I feel.

"All this shit means rep.  Build it.  Prove it.  The weekend at Doc's, when you paid him for fixing Darren's leg (from when the gladiator stable took money to break him).  You paid Doc by spending the weekend as a naked sex slave with us.  You're the free man who put his own ass on the line for three punks.  (Chapter 2)  

"You're the stud who's taken all this shit, slavery plus bullwhip, blacksnake, dicks, right up to Mike n Demon canin you, fuckin you.  You take it for your guys.  So maybe we could've hit harder.  Last weekend we hit just hard enough to show we mean business, like the man said, and to show all the men that you mean business.  Same with Mike just now.  

"Demon, though, he has to make his own rep.  The new kid has to impress his stud captain.  So Demon has to rock you the way us guys couldn't.  


"You've outlasted Mike, endured more pain than him, twice.  First time, when you fought him back at the stable.  Second time, last night's initiation.  All the Hardwicke guys see you harder-ass than Mike.  The way they should.  You're the gladiator stud who beat everybody, even Champion Mike.  The MAN who had to win.  Steve of Steve's Studs.  

"Just between your crew, though, Mike just showed you that maybe he's the harder ass.  That maybe he let you win.  Maybe he just wasn't dumb enough to hold a pullup last night for more blacksnake.  But you were.  

"Mike's layin down his marker for you.  He's co-stud enough for cocaptain.  But he did it private, just for us.  Hardwicke guys don't know.  Don't be surprised if he out-hardasses you.  Comes top."  

Jamie almost smiles.  He n Darren squeeze me tighter.  Darren plows deeper.  Works me n my hole n his stud slave dick.  I wish it didn't feel good.  



"One more thing."  Jamie steps in, takes both pecs, then both tits.  "You're the badass hardass trained killer with no impulse control who got enslaved for two sexual assaults but who lets his slaves fuck with him, fuck him, don't fuck back.  This is what our dads say you need to work on.  What you've told the directors you n Mike will do.  Wanna twist my tits (he twists, pinches mine), kick my balls?"  

I brace.  As much as I can in my position.  At least I clamp on Darren's dick.  "Naw.  (Remember not to say 'Sir!  No, Sir!' to my slave Jamie.)  I FIGHT guys.  Don't pick on em.  I worked hard to make Recon Marine to fight bad guys, took some down, not be one."  Both guys laugh.  

Darren snorts, "Always-alert Marine Steve don't relax till a dick goes up his ass."  

Jamie grins crooked, "Dick up his stud ass reminds him of the Marines, with his 'free man' buddy, Jason."  (Jason was my Marine buddy.  Then he appeared at the gladiator stable in some "free man" role that let him give all us slave gladiators hell.)  

"Miss Jason, Steve?  Miss his dick?"  Jamie grins, twists.

The boys done pushed my button.  Good thing for Jamie that Darren has me in that full nelson.  

Pete -- forgot him -- hands Jamie his lead-hand quirt, says, "Try this."  

Titbites (quirt bites tits).  Jamie sneers, "Need this boy?  Need the whip plus the dick?  Where's that hardass trained killer, that bisexual badass?"  

I can't answer, don't know the answer, shake my head.  "Come round our cell any time for a good time.  Bring your tawse, cane, whatever.  

"Hope your sorry slave ass can own us, master us, like our dads told you.  Work on it, slave.  Whaddya say, slave?  You man enough to master me n stud Darren?"  Quirt bites tits, bites dick.

I shoot onto Jamie.  Darren shoots up me.  Jamie shoots onto me.  Jamie feeds me my spunk n his.  Darren holds me tighter.  Feels good.    

Jamie steps in, grins kinda crooked.  "Know why I'm such a brat, MASTER (drawls sarcastic)?"

Fuck!  I gotta answer THIS?  "Sir!  No, Sir!"  Man with the whip is always Sir.  

Jamie glares.  "Because I want you to act like you own me.  To master me.  You caned Demon, tawsed the living hell out of him when he acted out while you rehabbed him.  You dissected every guy you fought.  Know why you can't do me?"  Titbite pair.  Quirt wraps my dick.  

Fuck!  I gotta answer THIS?  "Sir!  No, Sir!"  

Jamie's on a roll.  "Because I programmed you.  Remember the two times you tried just to spank me back in the gladiator stable?"

This I know.  "First time was in the cell with Mike.  He took his winnings as a skank they threw into the cell.  You dissed her.  I pulled you off her.  Got one swing."

Jamie flexes, rolls.  Titbite pair.  "Then what?"  

It hurts to remember.  "You yelled.  The guards came, pulled me off you, slaveprodded me."  

Titbite pair.  "Damn right, slave.  And the next time?"  

Ouch!  "I tried to keep your dick uncut.  You wanted to look like all the other guys, skinned.  You ragged me in the mess hall, something about 'freak'.  I pulled you over the table.  Got in a couple swings.  Guards slaveprodded me again."

Grin, titbites.  "Right!  I used the guards and their slaveprods to program you.  Make you a better challenge.  We'll see if you master me before I master you.  Again.

"Know how I ended up in the gladiator cell with you and Mike?  

Jamie's rollin'.  "We met in the municipal punishment centre where my buds n me too the six straps that are the price of quittin school.  I'd done some bikeracing, so I got work as a bike courier.  Cute kid.  Office ladies liked me.  The other couriers initiated me like the Big Dawgs did you -- cane, dicks each end.  They told me that to belong, I had to bring little stuff.  First was a cooky.  That got me over the customer's breakroom table, cane the back end while the front end eats pussy.  Then the dudes wanted a lipstick.  That got me the break table again but the managing partner fucked me too.  Plus the back room at Slaves R Us, target for bullwhip training.  They couldn't do blacksnake because I wasn't 18.  After a five-dollar bill, plus some weekend shit, a sheriff's deputy visited my dad at work. Told him that if he didn't sell me, the county would.  I was on that down-bound train, like the old song.  Hate to think about my dad having to find where to sell his first-born son.  

"Dad found the gladiator stable that had you, told me to stick with you, that you'd take care of me.  It turns out he was right, but I told him you were a pussy, that you could't take your punishment the way us punk kids did.  Dad told me that you were set up for that punishment centre,  That you had a right to complain, just like we heard about that election Saturday (chapter 9).  

"You need a challenge.   Me.  Got that, MASTER (sarcastic drawl again, with titbites)?"

"Sir!  Yes, Sir!"  Fuck!

Pete breaks us up.  

Mike, Luke, Demon come back.  Pete looks at me to clean Darren's dick after it's been up my hole.  By mouth.  Attitude adjustment.  

Luke takes care of me one more time.  "Sir!  Sorry, Sir.  Deal don't include Steve's mouth, Sir!" Demon wipes his brother, Darren's, dick.

 Pete says to answer what about gettin held, fucked, flogged relaxes me.  

I blush, wanna hide.    "Sir!  Dudes!  It's gettin held.  First time in 25 years, since I turned eight and could play football.  As a stud Marine, women were about what a stud like me did for them.  As a stud gladiator, it was about what a stud like me did for THEM.  Uh, did TO them. Sir!  Dudes!"  Mike pulls me into a hug, balls to balls.  Bends down and turns my face up to kiss.  

Mike's turn as target.  This round I hold him, take care of him while Luke n Demon cane im, fuck im.  All three guys show hardass attitude.  Hugs, smiles at the end.  

Overseer Pete sends us for the cold showers, clean dicks in their strain gauges, clean gladiator straps.  He comes too.  

Back for the sitdown tests.   Snack first.  



Sitting feels not too kewl.  I settle into it, settle onto my cane cuts.  Turn to see Mike do the same on twice as many.  

Look at the iPad, like overseer Pete says.  See him watch his iPad.  Look at my iPad.  Put in the earbuds.  Watch my heart rate, blood pressure, dick size settle down.  

Like the earbud voice says, I look at the screen, try to see what to push when.  I know all the other guys are kewl with this, video games n all, but I just used Marine commo gear.  Blackberrys with real keys.  My fingers feel like left feet.  Pete catches my eye, directs it back to my iPad.  

I listen to the voice, look at the screen, work on what to push when.  Key in where I was born, when, parents -- all that stuff they must already know from my records -- try to hit the right keys at the right times.  Get a little better.  Which is louder, A or B?  Match colour names to colours.  See the indicators get calmer, even dick size.  

Story problems.  Multiple guess.  Weird questions -- weird scene, then what would I say or do?  More math.  Which way is the image turning.  Which picture comes next?  Which picture doesn't belong?  Think of a dishwasher -- would I rather design it, build it, lift it onto a truck, install it, fix it, use it?  Some shit appears too fast for the big head to remember but the little one gains or loses a size.  Blood pressure, pulse, blood oxygen, testosterone, adrenaline up or down.  Don't move nothin but my hands.  N dick.  Shoulders, neck stiff.  Dick stiff.  Sometimes.  

Surprised when the voice says, "Break.  Earbuds out."  

Surprised when Pete walks up, adjusting his dick in his jock.  He took the test too.  Says chill, break, prep for the next event.  The other guys -- the ones that know how to run an iPad -- are already laughin around the snack table.  



"Prep hardass Steve for the facefuck event.  Stud Mike too."  Fuck!  Tried to forget Pete, the weird cocksucking contest.  

Blanket over the table.  Me n Mike over the blanket.  Blanket don't feel kewl on the blacksnake tracks.  My head n mouth to Pete.  Mike's to Darren.  My south end for Pete's strap.  My dick to Luke.  Mike's ass for Darren's strap.  Mike's dick to Jamie.  Demon standin by for Luke.  Ape standin by for Jamie.  This is fuckin diabolical.  Of us six guys, Darren's the only real cocksucker, the one guy that don't gag on the idea.  

I hate Pete's hotlubed dick in my mouth, hate his strap on my burnt butt, hate the way I can't even stretch.  Dick wants to concentrate on Luke's mouth n hotlube on him but big head can't.  Mike must feel the same way.  Pete's dick n strap must give me the right incentive.  At least they distract me from Luke doin nice things to my dick enough to get Pete off before my throat gets too reamed too bad n my butt gets too burned.  Sounds like Mike got Darren off before Jamie could get him off.  

Up.  Stretch.  Switch.  I get Luke's throat on my dick again, plus his ass on my strap, Pete's tawse on my strapped ass.  Luke gets Demon's mouth on his dick.  Mike gets Jamie's mouth n ass.  I see Mike's strapped ass share the tawse.  Jamie gets Ape the same way.  Luke n Jamie get me n Mike off first, just like me n Mike got Pete n Darren off first.  

The strap incentive works.  Strap the cocksucker while your own butt gets tawsed.  Strap motivates the strapped cocksucker.  This helps the business?  Guys pay more when they strap the cocksucker?  This'll land right now on Slave Steve's Greatest Hits (Chapter 9).  We'll see what sells.  

So Luke fucks Demon, over the table, while Jamie fucks Ape.  Pete tawses Luke n Jamie.  Darren just looks real satisfied.  Me n Mike chill, hug, rub balls n dicks while we hold each others' hot glutes.  

Pete smiles happy about how strap training improves cocksucking.  



Pete sends all the guys but me n Mike out for a run.  Hands Jamie n Luke a quirt each (their lead-hand quirts) to help Ape, Demon, n Darren keep up.  

Mr Whitmore, co-owner of Hardwicke Co, calls me, Pete, n Mike into Mr Hardwicke's office.  Besides Mr Hardwicke, there are my attorney, trustee, and master Jon, my new owner, Mr Kraus, director Mr DD (Darren and Demon's dad), and director Mr JL (Jamie and Luke's dad) -- they stand up, welcome us, shake hands, thank us for our participation.  Ask if they should swat glutes?  Twist tits?  We say it's their call; they're the bosses; we're their meat.  They laugh.  Mr DD n Mr JL look shy when they take a tit each, twist.  

Mr Hardwicke introduces Dr Shrink, the psychologist and vocational consultant who put together the tests.  We shake hands.  We all sit down so we can see the doctor, the monitor, and each other.

Mr H asks if it's okay if they go over me and Mike together.  We both say sure.  He asks if it's okay that Pete sits in too.  Some of it's his results, and he has to manage our contracts (!) and training.  We both say sure.  He nods to Dr Shrink.  

Dr Shrink stands up, looks at us, the other men, the monitor, rolls his shoulders, smiles.  He says he does lots of vocational counselling, from IT jocks and new MBAs to other company slaves, but he's not seen a group quite like ours.  

"Start with general learning ability, book smarts, verbal and mathematical.  He points to the screen.  Mike's top of the scale, top 10%, goes with his MBA finance.  Jamie and Luke, middle of the top 25%.  Could complete a bachelor's or master's degree.  Steve just made the top 25%, math okay but we had to switch him between English and French to get his best answers.  Gentlemen, that makes four of the six of y'all in the top one-quarter of the American male population.  Demon and Darren sort of balance them -- both just on the lower side of average, top of the lower 50%.  

"So what links these six into one set of construction studs?  What sets slaves generally apart from free men.  High masculine identity, low self-control.  At least five of y'all show how you each got into whatever trouble got you enslaved.  What Mr Hardwicke calls 'More balls than brains.'  At least five of y'all.  Mike not so much, but I understand he has a more complicated story."  

Dr Shrink relaxes, asks for questions so far.  What can we say?  

He walks up to me and Mike, smiles, continues.  "We looked for gladiator suitability -- masculine identity, competitive, hand-eye coordination, turn on to exertion, endurance, exhibitionist, positive attitude, borderline psychopath -- means you can hurt another guy in the line of duty, maybe get off a little, but mostly don't go out of your way to do it.  Y'all score top marks.  No surprise except that none of you wants to hurt another guy for no reason.  Much.  Well, Pete, Mike, Jamie, Luke, and Demon get off more than Darren and Steve.  But no bullies.  Every guy's been bullied and doesn't like bullying, either side.  Every guy chooses fairness over cheap-trick alternatives.  That's a great surprise.  But y'all love to give the other guy whatever grief he needs to yield.  Even better.    

"Notice how your body kept changing signals -- dick size, pulse -- all that without you knowing consciously why?  We flashed images and sounds.  We recorded and analyzed your responses.  Different on-the-job images, you in different work situations.  Different, uh, non-construction images.  Scenes from 'Slave Steve's Greatest Hits.'  Scenes from the four gladiators' fights.  Scenes of the guys caning, fucking, getting fucked  (me).  Scenes of Steve bullwhipping Mr Hardwicke.  Pictures of underage kids, teenage girls and boys, adult women and men.  

"A couple reasons for the sex pictures.  Owners want to know whether their men's little heads can lead them into trouble, whatever the impulse control, so they know where or how not to deploy them.  And owners want to know what salable sexual aptitudes their men have.  I overheard an exercise about that just now.  (Me n Mike blush.)  And owners want to know their guys' interests and aptitudes real well.  

"The owners are relieved that none of y'all turn on to kids.  It's okay that 18-year-old Demon turns on to older teenage girls, okay that 18-year-old Luke turns onto older teenage boys, because they recognize boundaries instinctively.  These responses mean the company can deploy all y'all without worrying about guys getting in to trouble with some member of the public.  (Mike's had to help me remember all this.  Help me write it.)    

"The owners are pleased, too, that all y'all turn on to a range of men and women, some more than others, but no dicks go limp.  

"Y'all's responses to what y'all acted out in person reinforce the responses to stories, sounds, and images, too.  Studs!  Hardass Steve goes all hard-dick over most of what went down this morning plus most of his Greatest Hits.  He shows he'd rather ride naked in a cage in the back of the truck than drive the truck.  (Fuck!)  But both his heads liked bullwhipping Mr Hardwicke twice last week.  The rest of you go or stay hard-dick too, giving, taking, or watching.  The rest of y'all want Steve in the cage, even running alongside, not in the driver's seat.  And the rest of you like Steve getting flogged n fucked even more than he does.  

"This makes y'all the highest-scoring set of gladiators on record, considering y'all's general learning aptitudes, other aptitudes and interest, gym and fitness tests, and owners' and overseers' evaluations.  Consultants, counsellors like me report results and related data anonymously to keep the scores useful.  That's how we know where y'all stand in the male population, among construction studs, among gladiators, and so on.  

"Just watch that impulse control.  But that's why slaves have overseers.  Why overseers have whips."  He smiles, shrugs, rolls his head around, relaxes again.  

"We checked Pete for gladiator suitability too.  Pete pegs the top 25% for general learning ability, shows super gladiator aptitudes, gets off at least a little in making guys hurt.  (Fuckin right -- Chapters 8, 10.)  Too bad he already has a day job.

"Questions before we get to jobs, careers?"  Everybody looks too curious to ask questions.  If that makes sense.  

Mr Hardwicke looks at me n Mike.  "Y'all know y'all need day jobs too -- jobs besides gladiator, driller, and blaster.  That makes you more marketable as gladiators.  Hardworkin studs like y'all will outsell, outdraw the full-time gladiators that work on their tans.  Besides, you each have to earn your keep after younger, hungrier gladiators knock you out of the octagon.  You can supplement y'all's -- uh, y'all's OWNERS' -- earnings during the career, too. 

"Remember yesterday we talked about driller and blaster.  What seems tailor-made for Stud Steve.  Challenging work, physically and mentally.  The senior guy does the toughest, most dangerous parts.  Steve's Studs, Driller & Blasters.  Dr Shrink will talk more about this."

The doctor again.  "Driller and blaster.  Every guy tests positive for this.  Tough work.  Real results.  No worries, no cautions.  Every one of you could handle the rock-drilling, blasting, rock-chucking, real man work.  Stay on it through the 500, uh, supervised hours.  Learn the material.  Pass the exams.  Master blasters."  Dr Shrink almost relaxes.  Looks at Mr Whitmore.  

Mr Whitmore asks, "Question for Steve. How many of your men do you want to train for this, work at it?  Just you and, say, Darren?  Whole team?  You don't have to answer this today, this week.  

"How many of y'all get trained determines where and how y'all train.  Just a couple guys could train at Mike's quarry for the whole time.  500 hours usually means a day or two a week for a year while you do the quarry bullwork with the rock that gets blasted.  For just a couple guys, the quarry can make it fit the half-year we'll have between bootcamp and the start of school for the guys next September.  More guys means split y'all up, rotate y'all through quarry, mine, roadbuilding, foundation work, every rockpile in the southern Appalachians.  Some okay gigs, some hellholes.  

"Need to think about it?  Talk it over with Mike?"  He looks us both straight on.  

"Sir!  Every guy, Sir!  We're drillers n blasters, Sir!  We're gladiators who drill and blast other gladiators.  We train together, work together, fight together.  Even if we have to split up to train, Sir, the team will stay together.  Right, Steve?"

Mike said it before I could.  "Sir!  Yes, Sir!"  I jumped up.  Grabbed Mike.  

All the directors smile.  "So ALL the owners (even me) agree that all the men train for driller and blaster," Mr DD says.  "The directors all voted for this but wondered what you'd think.  Glad we all agree."  

I have to ask, "Sirs!  If I hadn't agreed straight up, would y'all have persuaded me, Sirs?"  I had to ask.  "But I'd have agreed even if y'all hadn't, Sirs!"  The directors grin.  Persuasion means blacksnake.  "Uh, Sirs, I did agree even before anybody, uh, persuaded me, Sirs!"  They grin, laugh.  

Dr Shrink again.  "A few more things.  Start with criminal records, which can bar some jobs.  Mike has no convictions.  The four juvenile delinquents' juvenile convictions won't affect their work.  Only Steve has convictions, the two aggravated sexual assaults."  

"Bisexual badass!"  Pete!

Back to the doctor.  "Then there's hearing loss.  All y'all.  The four kids spent too many hours in earbuds, played too many loud games, heard too much loud music.  They've lost a little at every frequency, so they probably never noticed.  Steve, though, has the military loss, all in the conversational range.  Mike has the same loss from his quarry work.  

"Steve, sometimes you have to work to hear what one person says in a crowd?"  

Damn!  He knows me.  "Sir!  Yes, Sir!"  

Dr Shrink again.  "That explains how you got into trouble with the woman in the bar in the incident that ended your Marine career, made you a gladiator, landed you here.  I read your records.  You probably misunderstood what she said to you, so you treated her like a bar girl in some Third World Bang Cock bar.  Right?  Then you went all apeshit in court and the punishment centre because you thought you were being railroaded.  Right?"  

Damn!  That finally makes sense.  "Sir!  Yes, Sir!"  Fuck!  "In the bar I heard her say I looked like I needed 'around the world'.  In court she said she'd said I looked like I'd fought around the world.  Sir!"  Interesting movements, looks, noises in the room.    

Dr S: "This means all y'all need hearing protection when you do your drilling and blasting.  Any loud work, like drills, jackhammers, power saws, even on Hardwicke construction jobs.  Y'all gotta look like pussies with your ear gear.  Y'all're tough enough to pull it off, especially when y'all's master blasters know to flog the ass off any guy that slips.  Make sense, Mike?"  

Mike grins crooked.  "Sir!  Yes, Sir!"  

"Stick with Mike for day jobs.  You have two obvious ones.  Banker and manager.

"Banker again, especially risk-analyst, risk-manager, what you did for your Wall Street investment bank (Chapter 12).  Lots of local banks and credit unions hire this done.  You were never convicted, so you can renew your CFA (Certified Financial Analyst) when you're ready to concentrate on life after boot camp and blasting.  

"You show the management aptitudes too, working with and through people to accomplish the job.  Hardwicke Co hopes you'll work in their management.  Mr Hardwicke and Mr Whitmore will talk more about that with you.  Maybe more than, uh, talk.  (He smiles.)  You'll probably work in both.  

"Make sense?"  

Mike beams, glows.  "Sir!  Yes, Sir!  I never thought I'd get to be anything again but a slave labourer, Sir!  THANK ALL Y'ALL, SIRS!"

He thinks a minute, then looks up, "Just so I get worked physically hard too, Sirs!"  

Mr Whitmore says they hope that Mike and Pete will take over the company when he, Mr Hardwicke, and Boss Henry retire.  

"Sir!  Thank y'all, Sir!  Steve and I will consider that, Sirs!"  We squeeze each others' thighs.  

Dr S:  "Steve's turn.  Gladiator, driller, blaster will take most of your time and energy for the next few years, but you'll need a day job too.  Not every construction or building issue can just get blown away.  And a skilled, hardworking journeyman will sell fight tickets.  Somebody that guys can admire, want to see win.      

"You have the aptitudes for damn near any trade, journeyman or lead hand.  No desk jobs, though.  No school time.  And you'd not make the best overseer, because you'd rather do the hard, dirty jobs yourself.  Right?"

"Sir!  Yes, Sir!"  Mr Hardwicke showed us this yesterday.  

"That's one of the things that suits you for gladiating and blasting.  What else, though, makes an interesting question.  You need physical and mental challenges.  You'd handle an ironworker's climbing and working way off the ground, but once you're up there, the welding and riveting would bore you.  Carpenter, plumber, electrician wouldn't work you hard enough, and some of the fussy details would turn you off.  Heavy-duty mechanic wouldn't work you hard enough physically and definitely wouldn't challenge you mentally.  You need to beat physical and mental challenges.  

"You need millwright.  Technically millwright, maintainer, and erector.  You wrestle big iron stuff into weird positions, so you'll get the physical challenge.  Guys that play with Tonka Toys like trains and front-loaders don't get to take them apart, carry them up ladders, press them overhead with one arm to install.  You do.  Just like blasting.  Like blasting, too, the job throws you puzzles to solve that don't always have obvious answers.  Maybe there's a crane that stopped lifting.  You climb up to it, wrestle all that iron, sort it out, solve everybody's problem so they can get back to work.  Maybe back to work sooner than they hoped but not soon enough for the overseer with a deadline.  You get to do plumbing, electrical, fabricating, welding, and mechanical too.  Heavy lifting for the heavy-duty mechanics.  Made for you."  

"Sir!  Yes, Sir!"  Sounds like fun.  

Dr S again.  "It takes a four-year apprenticeship that you'll work around gladiating and blasting.  So you'd be clear in 10 years total if it were just about you.  But it's about your guys.  

"Darren and Demon are way easier to peg.  They need to be worked physically hard but no math, no puzzles.  Your classic, "realistic" construction studs.  "Conventional" too.  They want a tough job with no puzzles but real results that show for generations.  Bricklayer, mason.  Bricklayers set 500 bricks a day.  That means they move a ton, ton and a half, maybe more every day.  Climb, squat, kneel, reach.  Work that big solid body, work him hard, every day.  Qualify in stone, tile, windows too.  See the results in what you build and in the body you build and feel the results.  Demon could be free from his indenture in 10 years.  

"Sound right?"  

"Sir!  Yes, Sir!"  I start to relax.  Start to see a future for us hard-to-control hardasses.  "But what about Luke n Jamie, Sir?"

Dr Shrink:  "Luke's a complicated guy but fun to peg.  Artistic, likes to design, likes to see how things fit together.  Likes to work through people, get them to accomplish complicated jobs.  Enjoys hurting guys a bit (damn straight!  Chapter 9, 10) but he likes to take care of people too.  Natural architect.  The prep year for bootcamp and blasting plus five years architecture school makes 12 years.  That's why the owners want to talk to you first, before him, to see if you'll sign 12 years."

Wow!  "Sir!  Sure I'll sign up for 12 years to get Luke where he needs to go, Sir.  At least to help him.  Wow!  I've worried about Luke, about where and how he can end up.  I thank all the owners and directors, Sirs!"  

Dr again:  "His indenture complicates this.  A professional needs to sign a design or opinion that someone will rely on, that could get someone hurt if it's wrong, and a slave can't sign that because his owner could influence him.  You can restrict his indenture so the owner can't influence his opinion; the owner cosigns that the opinion is the slave's.  So Attorney Jon has to write and register this carefully.  

"Mike's bank contracts need some care too, so he may get contracted to another firm or professional.  Or maybe he gets freed from slavery for the 12-year indenture that can't influence his professional judgment.

"And Demon might extend for the 12 years.  His call and Mr DD's.

"Jamie's easier.  He's like Luke but more hands-on.  More mechanical interest too.  Likes to work with and through people to do the job.  Natural overseer when he knows enough.  Sees himself whipping crews into shape.  Probably study architectural tech, maybe engineering tech.  Add estimating or quantity surveying, since each one's two years at the community college, total 10 year contract.  Useful to a company like this one or to lots of others.  Or to Luke's architecture.  Start him with one, see how that goes.  He has time in the 12 year term.  

"Jon?"  Dr sits down.  

Jon stands up, looks at me and Mike.   "Say we sign y'all for the 12 years.  Then what?   Lots of time to work this out.  The contracts with Hardwicke Co, Kraus Co, and Mr DD and Mr JL all end with the indentures, unless the owners extend.  (Jon winks at me; I'm an owner too.)  A couple possibilities for the rest of y'all's lives.  

One possibility --  y'all extend, re-up, at least the four lifers -- Darren, Jamie, Mike, Steve.  Y'all might extend the gladiating careers too, even Luke and Demon.  Darren and Steve will be important to Hardwickes, fit in well and deep with their operations.  They hope manager Mike, bricklayer Demon, maybe tech Jamie and architect Luke all re-up.  Hardwickes will be home, the way the Marines would've stayed for Steve, the way Wall Street would've stayed for Mike.  Quick thoughts?"

Everybody looks at me.  Mike's tightens his hand on my upper thigh.  Well, I've never wanted to live anywhere but a barracks, except on Recon Marine operations.  But what about the guys?  I'd hope by 12 years I get flogged less, less often, but I'll enjoy the hard work and challenges, enjoy havin other hard-workin hardass studs around.  I hope manager, banker Mike will still want want this grubby hardass slave.  Gotta speak, even if no blacksnake's flickin at me.  Fuck!  Little head turns on to this.  I hope nobody notices, but Mike slides his hand up my leg.  The men smile.  

"Sir!  Sirs!  I'll consider that, but it depends on what my guys want too.  I've never wanted to live anywhere but a barracks, I respect Hardwicke Co, and I'll enjoy the hard work and all the hardworkin hardasses around me.  Just hope I get flogged less, less often.  But what other possibilities, Jon?"  Mike's hand on my tackle feels good.  The men smile.  

Jon does his attorney half-grin, spreads his hands.  "Second possibility.  Say you get no more threats to enslave or castrate you, no more castrate-Steve Facebook and Twitter.   The 12 years give you the 10 years to get past any threats (Chapter 9), so while your two strikes will still expose you to a third conviction, your supervision could be relaxed.  Then maybe you could live in the community.  Especially if our work on your two convictions gets them downgraded.  

"A possibility related to that one.  Any time in the next 12 years or later, with your consent and mine, the directors could split the company in half, just so each half gets equal assets.  During the 12 years, that would mean two slaves and one indenture per new company.  Complicated.  But after the kids' 12-year indentures, with just the four lifers, you and Mike could go to Hardwicke and Kraus's HK Co or SM Co while Darren and Jamie go to Mr DD and Mr JL's JD or DJ Co.    Mr DD and Mr JL could "sell" JD Co or DJ Co to Demon and Luke.  Little brothers own big brothers.  (Luke would like that.  Jamie wouldn't.)

"Another thing that can happen after 12 years is that Mike, Darren, and Jamie might get freed.  Since none of them has an adult conviction, their owners could say Mike's 22 years slavery and Darren and Jamie's 17 years have paid their debts to society and apply for their manumission.  If the slave bureau refuses, we could appeal to court.  Remember how Mike became a slave?  The Amaranth energy-trading fraud that he tried to stop but that his firm profited from, and that the trader who ran it spent his five-year indenture in a lakefront condo in Chicago that he owns now.   By then Mike still a slave 22 years later will show the contrast if anyone objects to freeing him.  No judge would want to make the news by opposing him.  

"So HK Co has to get Darren and Jamie so it can free them -- JD couldn't free them because related persons can't free slaves.  JD Co could free Mike.  That still leaves Steve a slave, a 45-year-old, prime-of-life stud slave, say to Hardwickes or Kraus or Mike or JD Co.  Transfer or sell him to a company, maybe one that Mike controls.  Not fair, but anything that happens to you still needs your consent and mine.  Or Mike's consent, if he takes over as your owner's trustee.  Your trustees or owners can still persuade you.  (Like this mornin's blacksnake.)  They can still adjust you too.  You can call me any time your work and training let you, and we'll be talking today and over the years."  

Wow!  What can I say?  What do I think?  So many changes so fast.  My guys all have futures.  Even me.  I hope Jon will stay my master.  Or maybe Mike will.  I love Jon, love Mike.  Dick grows when I think about either.  Get this right.  "Sir!  Thank you, Sir!"  

Mr Hardwicke looks at me n Mike.  "One more question for the cocaptains.  Should the directors claim ownership of the guys the way we did you two cocaptains yesterday?  The cane, fuck, facefuck, but probably not piss on em?"  

Me n Mike make eye contact, shake 'no.'  I answer: "Sir!  No, Sir!  You directors tell me n Mike to own them, Sirs!  We'll get that gladiator oath from them -- take a dick with, for, or from us; take a whip with, for, or from us -- so they belong to us.  I already belong to Jon that way, and when me n Jon got back from our run yesterday morning, the happy faces on you n Mr Whitmore plus the lumpy red ass and crosseyed expression on Mike showed he belongs to you n Mr Hardwicke.  Maybe Mr Kraus too, Sir.  (Mr Kraus smiles but shakes his head.)  

"But making the guys belong to y'all too would confuse them, Sirs, and dilute our authority.  So, respectfully, Sir, and I hope y'all don't try to persuade me otherwise, the directors should leave the guys to us the way you asked us, Sirs!"  

They nodded, said they agreed.  

Mr Kraus said he admired and respected me n Mike's initiation last night, but Kraus Co initiated way simpler.  "Mr Hardwicke's Jewish, Mr Whitmore's Episcopalian, I'm Babdist, and Babdists don't like all that ritual.  Sorry to spoil Steve's surprise when he comes to see me.  The dude's overseer and I flip a coin.  Heads I bullwhip and facefuck; then the overseer straps and buttfucks.  Tails the other way.  (Okay.)  But maybe Stud Steve will get a stud special, too.  Maybe, if he makes it worth my while, Stud Steve and I will share some kind of gladiator initiation."  



Mr Whitmore stands up, stretches a bit.  "Doc and Jon have given us all lots to think about over a run around the compound.  Mike, Steve, run easy enough to talk.  When you two hardasses get back, just towel down.  Head back to the classroom to practise the positions and implements for tonight's gladiator trial and initiation.  Practise on each other.  Hard enough but not too hard.  Impress, don't damage.  Don't refight last night's blacksnake event.  Don't start World War III.  Probably no more than three cuts per event.  Then shower for lunch.  

"Gentlemen (to the other directors and Jon)!  We'll change into gladiator uniforms, what we'll wear the rest of the day, and pick up steel-toed boots on the way out.  Pete can change to a gladiator strap or keep the jock.  He'll run us hard enough but not too hard.  To motivate the six of us, Pete, bring a bullwhip.  Use Mike's."  Funny noises, groans.  

"Second thought.  Pete, you run Jon and Mr Kraus.  Not too hard.  Show them a good time.  Give them a good tour of the compound.   Your charges may want some competition.  Use Mike's quirt instead if that makes it easier for you to keep up."    

Pete grins.  "Sir!  I can manage them two and the bullwhip.  Manage them WITH the bullwhip, Sir!"  

Mr Hardwick nods, smiles.  "Boss Henry, you run Mr Whitmore and me, Mr DD and Mr JL.  Be sure you wear your knee braces.  Give us walk breaks.  We're not competing, so just keep us together, but bring Steve's bullwhip anyway.  We'll spread out too much for a quirt, and the owners need the, uh, cultural experience.  "  

Jon's probably still endorphin-buzzed from gettin bullwhipped n caned with me at us guys' old slave barracks yesterday morning to assert the barracks authority and adjust our attitudes, like I said (Chapter 11).  Then the owners caned him to assert their authority (Chapter 12).  Plus he had rowing practice at dawn today.  He straightens, lifts n spreads his shoulders n pecs, looks straight at Pete.  "If I beat you back, do I flog and fuck you, like Steve did Mr Hardwicke (Chapter 5)?"  Pete is Jon's brother-in-law.  

Pete flicks the bullwhip.  "No danger, stud.  I'll take you down.  Beat you both ways."  

Mr Hardwicke swats them each on the butt.  Jon on suitpants.  Pete on jockstrapped glute.  

Mr Kraus says he's in too.  First one back fucks both men, bullwhips the last.  Second man back fucks the last.  

Me n Mike make for the slave entry, grab our boots (plus socks from the bin), and head.  We remember to talk easy.  He asks me what I think about the morning.  I say I don't really know, lots to look forward to, especially for the guys who have futures now, but whatever goes down I hope he and I stay together.  He says I look kinda worried.  I say I've always wanted to run with the alpha pack and its alpha dog, so I'm not sure about this relaxed life in the community.  He moves next to me, matches my stride, puts his arm around me, says, "I'll always be your alpha dog.  I'll always be your whip hand."  

Fuck!  How's he know I need to hear this?  I didn't know I needed to hear this.  Was this my dream?  Little head gets interested.  Didn't notice the barracks til we stopped at the door.  Quick stretches.  Hug inside.  

We pop off the boots and socks in the entry, boots onto our shelves. Towel down.  Wipe each other's lean tanned faces, buzzed heads, strong necks under titanium collar chains.  Feel the hard sweaty muscles -- necks that taper into shoulders, traps lats delts pecs tits, washboard abs, hardass glutes, treetrunk legs.  Mike wipes me.  I wipe him.   Careful in the crotches.  We bring the towels.  

Back to the room to practise tonight's events.  Glad straps stay on for the first three punishing events, off for the upright flogger, upright bullwhip.  Smell the endorphin buzz.  Mike down on the table first for the elbow bridge and cane.  Elbows on folded towel.  I wind up like I did when I finally impressed him this morning.  Cut one.  Mike calls "One, Sir,  but get serious, Sir," then counts to 30.  I watch the cane dent his caned butt diagonal across the couple dozen tracks, but he don't twitch.  "Two, Sir,  but that all ya got, Sir?" Then he counts to 30.  Third time's a charm.  

Me down.  Mike's turn.  I match his three and 30-counts while he ramps up each one.  

Low pushup position for the tawse.  Chest, balls just above the deck.  Me down first.  First one hits diagonal across the back of the shoulders and ribcage, hits everything that already hurts.  "One, Sir,  but too easy, Sir!"  Harder two, "How's that gonna break a man, Sir?"  Worse three.  Swap positions for my best or worst three.  

Back bridge, arms overhead to the floor, fingers pointed to toes, for the quirt to tits n balls.  Balls n dick out on the waistband.  Mike down first.  Stretch, windup feel good.  I watch, hear the quirt shred both tits.  "One, Sir,  but too easy.  Nail the balls, Sir!"  "Two, Sir,  but how's that gonna break a man, Sir?"  Quirt wraps dick, for practice, flattens balls on three.  "Three, Sir!"  

My turn.  Same two to tits, practice to dick, and three to balls.  

We stand under a midroom pullup bar.  Straps off.  I pull up first for the chest flogger.  Wide grip to spread the chest.  My blacksnaked chest.  Same drill.  Same dynamite three.  This one's the easiest.  Enjoy the pullup.  Flogger hurts but it spreads, so don't bite like cane, tawse, quirt, bullwhip.  Mike's laughin when I start him n when I finish.  

Mike pulls up for the fifth event, usual underhand grip, final unless there's a tie.  Bullwhip to back with leglifts.  "One, Sir,  but too easy!"  Damn near a lightning bolt across his worked, whipped back, top left to right lat, opposite the first one."Two, Sir,  but that all ya got?!"  Lightning of Thor!  Mike laughs.  

My turn.  Same drill.      

Stand down.  Hug.  Balls to balls.  Rub.  Wipe down friendly, one more time.  

Mike breaks, steps back, grins, says, "Stand up.  Feet hip-distance wide.  Arms behind your head.  Elbows wide.  Chest out, abs tight, glutes hard.  Eyes closed.  Directors want me to give you something special."  

Okay.....   I feel him kneel, put his hands on my hamstrings, glutes, hold me up.  His mouth takes my hungry, curious dick.  His hands hold my balls.  Wow!  Blow job?  Nope.  Something metal snaps around the balls.  Fuck!  

"Open your eyes, boy!  Don't talk."  I look.  The directors gave him a titanium collar to put my balls in!  

My eyes open wide.  Mike steps back.  I want to talk.  Blacksnake cut one says not to.  Clockwise wrap.  Leaded lash snaps into a circle around me, then snaps in.  Bites.  Like that song, like I fell into a burning ring of fire.    

Mike's real happy, real proud.  "Your ball harness isn't the directors' only present, but it's special, just for us.  It opens only to my fingerprint, just like my iPad.  The directors gave me this too."  Blacksnake wraps counterclockwise.  "This is for us, their gift that I get to keep on giving.  Pete already broke it in on you.  

"Proposition!  Will you marry me?"  

Fuck!  Knew men could marry.  Didn't know slaves could marry.  Blacksnake wrap three.  

"Three down, here's four (fuckin ouch).  20 to go.  Sorry me n my dick can't brace you up.  So hold the pullup bar we just used.  Chin up if you need to but upper arms horizontal."  I PULL, usual grip, knuckles forward, palms towards me, hold.

"You must have some questions.  We're both husbands.  There's a prenuptial agreement, like your shareholders' agreement.  You keep your property, us five guys in your trust, that red truck in six months, the Marine Credit Union account.  All I want is you.  

"You swear that gladiator oath to me: You take a dick with me, for me, from me; you take a whip with me, for me, from me; because you belong to me.  I swear to you that you take those things with me, for me, or from me because you belong to me.

"You stay your owners's agent who has to agree to any changes, any action besides routine work, training, and discipline.  The shareholders' agreement already lets me read all materials, attend all meetings.  Our agreement stays the same except that the persuasion changes.  If I agree with you to reject a directors' proposition, I share the 24 cuts day one, 18 day two, 12 day three, and all that.  I take half.  If I agree with THEM, I match half what they give you, my own limits on top of the directors'.  My 12 blacksnakes the first day plus their 24.  So you need to make it worth my while to agree with you instead of them.  

"I get to assert my authority, adjust your attitude, like the directors do, and I can go direct to blacksnake up to the same 24 cuts per month.  Plus any other implements any time, no limits except on the cane.  If you want or agree, we can bring in another gladiator to, uh, brace you up like I did you while Pete disciplined and persuaded you.  

"I can't persuade you to divorce me or let me go or not to divorce me and stay, but you get to persuade me if you want out or if I do and you don't.  

"You're available for my dick when and where he wants provided it's private and it doesn't get in the way of work or training, and I can warm your cold pussy up for my hot dick with a whip or whatever.  I'm available to you, too, and you can, uh, intensify the experience too.   You get to warm my cold pussy for your hot stud dick.  We train each other the usual way (by tawse).  

"You and I get to fuck with any other guy unless I tell him and you he's off limits.  Your masters Jon and Boss Henry, my masters Mr Hardwicke and Mr Whitmore get firsts.  

"I get to discipline you.  You get to discipline me, with my consent.  Even adjust my attitude, with my consent and the directors', and you can persuade me with my consent and the directors'.  

"We both get that double-or-nothing appeal to an overseer or owner -- for discipline or adjustment or persuasion.  The overseer agrees with you, I get double; if he agrees with me, you get double.  

"You call me 'Sir' when I hold the whip and you're the target, even if we're not alone.  When we're alone and you're in your special wedding (scrotum) ring.  When we're alone and I'm not smiling, not calling you Steve.  Plus whenever I call you boy or slave or tell you to call me Sir.  

"The other Hardwicke guys -- I do my best to make sure they don't guess you're my bitch, my whipping boy.  The other gladiators too.  They all need to respect you as Stud Steve the cocaptain.  

"It's not in my interest to damage you, weaken you, make you less a man than the hardass stud I've loved since the stable gave you to me to show the ropes, to take care of.  

"So whaddya say, stud?"  Blacksnake wraps five clockwise, six anti(counter)clockwise.  Pecs, tits, ribs, back!  I pull higher, flare wider, lift glutes n crotch, shoot but don't frag.  Mike in the mouth!  Mike's look says, don't frag without me.  

Mike don't look surprised.  He grins, arches, shoots.  I could pull aside but I don't.  He hits my pecs.  "Thanks for that vote of confidence, stud!"  (Shoot means yes.)  "Drop and give me a kiss!"  We trade my spunk.  He licks his off me.  We share that.  

Mike stands me up, holds my shoulders at arm's length, looks into my eyes, asks me what I want now?  

What the fuck?  Wish I knew?  "Sir!  Break me, Sir!  Make me belong to you, Sir!  Please, Sir!"  

Jump back up, tighter grip, flex everything.  Even dick.  Don't know what I mean.  Don't know where this takes me.  Just know I need Mike and this gets him.  Okay.  I gotta show Mike I'm as tough as the hardass that sneered at my cane.  That I'm his equal.  His partner, whatever he gets to do to me.  

Mike says, "Kewl!  Every question I ask, you answer, 'Sir!  Your man, Sir!'  Got that, boy?"

A pair of wraps.  First one clockwise when I don't answer.  Its counterclockwise mate when I do.  That pair don't count.  

"You my pussy, bitch?"  Wrap one.  First wrap that counts.  

"Sir!  Your man, Sir!"  Wrap two.  Adds energy, urgency to the pullup, the answer.  

"You my boy, slave?"  Wrap three.  

"Sir!  Your man, Sir!"  Wrap four.  

"You my slave, stud?"  Wrap five.  

"Sir!  Your man, Sir!"  Wrap six.

Body frags, dick shoots into Mike's grin, because they know they belong to Mike.  Mike frags, shoots onto me because I belong to him.  

We jump down.  Hug.  Trade our spunk again.  No time to fuck.  Our first, my first 69, while Mike uses his hands to rub, roll, swat, twist me.  Fuck!  I like him on me.  I work his shaved flogged hide and the muscles under it.    

Wow!  We break, I sit on the edge of the table while Mike collects our implements, till I can stand.  

On the way to a COLD shower, I carry the gladstraps, and Mike carries all our implements.  Guys we pass look, grin.  

I ask how he and Pete got so expert with the blacksnake.  "Well, sometimes I ran crews with a bullwhip in the quarry, but Pete's had way more experience.  When they hauled me in from the quarry, Jon had my cage and me dropped off at Slaves R Us to get me a couple pairs of shorts to stay legal (slave naked in public only in a cage).  Pete met us for a session in the back room.  Training starts with instrumented dummies, like tailors' dummies but that show where and how hard each cut landed.  In what order, what hit first where.  All videoed and reviewed.  Make sure the tip doesn't bite, doesn't cut.  After an hour, your shoulder feels like longer, you move to random guy there for, uh, to improve you both.  Most guys are slaves, but not all.   Most got dropped off.  One guy said his girlfriend told him not to come back until his hide showed how much he got improved.  Another guy's boss told him that.  Gotta take you there.  (Okay -- which end?)  Finish with three each on each other."  (That's where Jamie the thieving bike courier just said he went, the second time he got caught.)  

Cold shower could've lasted longer.  Deodorant, sunscreen.  Clean glad straps.  Little head still shows interest.  Mirror shows I look like a hamburger jigsaw.  Walk into the mess hall.  LOTS more looks, whistles, hands-on attention to all my blacksnake stripes, both our caned, strapped glutes.  

Keep a straight face; look straight ahead.  Get our trays through the line.  Find the table with owners and Jon plus our four guys, Pete, and Dr Shrink.



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