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o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o  	The 'Bookshelf collection' offers a very wide variety of  o
o  stories. They have been submitted by people from all over the  o
o  world.  Also from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups).   There is no  o
o  particular  order  other than offering them to you in  alpha-  o
o  betical directories.                                           o
o  	I don’t believe in categorizing things. "I don’t want to  o
o  be typed therefore I don’t type things myself."  I think it’s  o
o  a lot more fun to browse around and find  'little'  surprises  o
o  that you might not have even thought of looking for.           o
o   	Lest we forget!!!   This story was produced as adult en-  o
o tertainment and should not be read by minors.   Kristen         o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

Gladiator (M+F, nc, v)
by New Roman
 
     I knew what to expect when I entered the gladiator's bar-
racks, thrust in naked and collared the first night.  The racks
of beds were about three-quarters full, and most beds had at
least two slaves in them.  Some were sleeping, readying them-
selves for training the next day; others lay moving atop their
moaning bunkmates, taking their pleasure either brutally, or with
a savage, loving passion.  In the far corner I noted six of them
holding a recalcritant man over a bed; a tusked half-orc holding
each limb, a slim but well-muscled elf keeping a blanket in his
mouth to stifle his screams, and an eight foot tall Minotaur -
not including horns - bent over, pumping into him with his huge
bull's penis.
     That didn't concern me right now, my imminent challenge did.
Scanning the room, it became obvious who would be the first to
give me trouble.  A broad, yet lean Orc stood, brushing aside the
two human youths he had licking at his feet, and approached me.
His gait was measured, his collar was iron where mine was silver.
He stood balanced, and leered, approaching me deliberately so as
to stand too close to me for mental comfort.  I felt no need to
speak.  I knew I had an audience, and it was time to perform,
just as I would eventually perform in the arena.  I centered, and
slapped a palm into his chest playfully, shoving him back five
feet, knocking him down.
     He got up and charged, the stupidest thing he could have
done. It wasn't a bad charge, but it ended with him slamming into
the floor at a goodly speed.  I took my motion, and let it propel
me downward to slam a finishing fist into his gut.  I stepped
over him into the room, listening to him grunt and gasp for
breath that wasn't going to come for a while.  The air of chal-
lenge was gone from the room, and I noticed quite a few smiles
from my audience.
     The next one to move in my direction was a tall Theysia, a
lizard-man.  There was no conflict in his bearing but his collar
was gold, betokening that as a gladiator, his quality was high.
     "Hshsstck?" he asked.  It was the inquiring password of the
Order of Styrkyr, a reptilian order of warrior.  No fool he, he
saw in an instant that that was where I'd been trained.  And if
his collar was gold, he'd been trained there too.
     "Sthsstis."  I replied in the affirmative, watching his tail
curl up to the right, the way a lizard-man would smile at meeting
a long-lost comrade.  Perhaps seven foot tall and well filled
out, the scales on his back were an emerald green flecked with
yellow, and his underside was a strokeable golden tan.  He threw
an alligator-skin arm around my shoulders and led me to his bunk,
chattering of things back at the order in the hissing Theysian
tongue; becoming serious when he had me at his bed.
     "Here are the rules of the place, and Grush there was break-
ing them.  Training is for three hours in the morning, then we
eat, and the rest of the day we train among ourselves.  We have
our own baths, which is the only place we are allowed to meet our
Masters.  The combats are every seventh day, of course."
     "Amongst us, there is a ranking.  Each person is issued five
challenges per day.  When you challenge, that fight will take
place on the following day.  The person you defeat and all those
beneath him are your slaves.  Priority of desire goes to whoever
most recently defeated that slave.  At present, I am number one,
and you have no ranking until tomorrow.  Your safety is my re-
sponsibility, and you have the right to refuse anything asked of
you."  His long, thick tail stroked my legs, and his forked
tongue flicked out to caress my neck.  "Tonight, and tonight
alone, I can assure you."
 
     The town was Karath, a place known for its free-enterprise
court system.  A wealthy gnome lordling had noticed me, and
bumped into me on the street.  He then promptly had me arrested
for trying to pick his pockets.  I hired a competent orator, who
informed me that said gnome had already bribed the judge with
three times the amount of money I could possibly pay.  My choices
were to serve as his house-slave for six months - and I didn't
want to give him the satisfaction - or fight in the arena as his
slave, with all my proceeds going to him.  I chose the latter, as
an arena reputation can never hurt a hired weapon like myself.
 
     Jelaryn slipped his arms around me and clasped them behind
my neck in a full-nelson, then sliding his legs alongside mine.
His arms were long enough to hold me easily without pushing at my
neck painfully, and he slid his tail between my legs from behind,
and wrapped it up to press my crotch.  He settled us on the bed,
I upon my stomach and his sleek belly-scales atop my back, lull-
ing me to sleep with insistent, yet gentle flicks of his tongue
upon my ear.
 
     I had five challenges to deal with the first day.  The first
was from a mid-ranked gnome.  I didn't underestimate him; I chose
unarmed as the weapon, got on my knees and let him come to me.
Like that, I had more reach, and didn't have to reach down to
him.  Eventually, he came within reach, I blocked his kick and
pinned him.  He surrendered with the grin of someone who had just
finished a win-win scenario.
     The next two were from Grush's boys.  Clearly, he'd ordered
them to soften me up for him.  The first was pathetic, but the
second was a competent hard-stylist.  I was forced to hard-block
him for a while until I could kick him in the head, which meant I
got to go up against Grush, formally, with bruised arms.  I'd
have to be careful.
     I took sword and shield against Grush, since they were the
weapons I'd been trained with since the age of four.  My father
was a mercenary before he settled down, and trained me till I was
good enough to get into the Order of Styrkyr.  I'm only a bit
above five foot tall, so hang a good-sized shield on my arm and
you almost can't see me.  I figured that with fourteen years of
experience in the weapon style, I wouldn't have much problem.
     Grush was much less stupid by the light of day.  He faked,
he threw wraparound shots, he tried to shield-bash.  He didn't
make any blatant mistakes, so I watched for him, and when he was
about to throw a cross-body shot, I whacked his arm good and hard
with my practice sword, sending his flying.  I chased him to it,
and by it, as he wasn't ignorant enough to try and get it with me
there.  Finally, he approached the wall, and had to charge.  I
let him press his shield up against mine; he grabbed for my sword
but it was too late.  I snapped my wrist up in a Scorpion, hit-
ting him on the back of the head.  He stalked off the field,
amidst much laughter.  I'm pretty certain I heard him swear
revenge.  What a joke.
     After defeating Grush - and becoming ranked fourth - it was
time for my final challenge.  Jelaryn ordered me to sit and rest,
even though he could by rights demand that I fight him immediate-
ly.  Jelaryn chucked me on the shoulder, his tail curled up
mirthfully. "Your submission would be tainted if I did not fight
you whilst you were rested, my little bed-warmer."  Memories from
my time in the Order flooded back to me.  I could only recall one
Theysian being as large as Jelaryn, and I could never defeat him
either.  He was the only one in my year to graduate atop me, top
in several senses of the word.
     I chose unarmed combat.  Jelaryn would be just as fierce in
any weapon I cared to choose.  A Theysian's Iguana-like claws
aren't ordinarily sharp; they're for climbing but they do make
ripping cuts on flesh.  We squared off, our stances at oblique
angles.  I could tell he was confident, and I was not.  He was
already winning.  He stepped in and flew at me, low to the
ground.  I couldn't help remembering the feel of his weight on my
back.  I raised him up and over to dash him to the ground, almost
as reflex, but I hadn't been watching his tail.  It lashed
around, changing his balance and catching me in the head on the
end of its swing.  I ended up putting him down on his feet in-
stead of his back, reeling away from the blow.  He pressed the
attack with a kick, I struck it aside with my shin leading into a
spinning attack of my own.  He caught my kick to his head - it
was far too slow - and tossed me across the sands of the arena.
He settled upon me before I could roll to my feet, blocked my
fists, grabbed my wrists, and pinned them too.  I thumped a foot
against the ground, surrendering to what was, perhaps, the inevi-
table.
     From his position atop me, his tail curled powerfully be-
tween my legs, cocooning my crotch.  His right hand released my
wrist, slowly wrapping around my collared throat, so I could feel
the exquisite prick of each of his claws poised above a windpipe
or artery.  His snake-like head descended slowly and he pressed
his hard lips to mine, spreading them and flicking his tongue
into my mouth.  Thick and forked, he conquered my tongue with his
just as he conquered my body, pressing me into the sand, flicking
down my throat.
     It was over too quickly.  Jelaryn, my Master, pulled me up
and carried me to the baths.  In the manner of such things, Grush
served me in the bath, lathering me first, then oiling and scrap-
ing me.  I performed the same duty for my Master, as well.
Jelaryn was pleased with my ministrations, his penis and balls
descending from within as is the manner of Theysia, thick and
strongly formed like the rest of him.  Soon enough, we were in
the bunkhouse for the night.
     "Your skill has pleased me, my little bed-warmer.  So, you
shall have a treat.  Grush, get over here."
     Grush looked about, but he knew what the punishment would be
if he failed to obey.  The onlookers watched, ready to intervene
if necessary, clearly enjoying every quaver in his step as he
came to the bunk.  Jelaryn, through me, ordered him onto the
bunk, on his hands and knees, and had me stroke his body, my
possession, oiled from the bath.  Hairy, tusked, and snouted;
strong, but helpless; Jelaryn bent me over him and slid me into
him.  He grasped and pushed, and indeed grunted like a stuck pig.
     Then Jelaryn mounted me, and what I felt upon taking Grush
as mine multiplied a hundredfold.  Jelaryn was still warm from
the heated back, but quickly absorbed even more heat from me; he
worked his cock in and out until he pressed it completely in up
to the hilt.  His tail wrapped itself around my balls, and he
began pistoning into me, mechanically, his scaled belly pressing
on my back, his every thrust and retreat sliding me into and out
of Grush's tight slave ass.  Grush labored under our weight,
gasping from my cock filling him.  Jelaryn sensed my first or-
gasm, and slid forward, pinioning me, pressing his balls against
my ass and making sure that I was completely engulfed by Grush.
I exploded, filling Grush, my rectum spasming and gripping around
my Master's cock, his weight securely pinning me to the back of
my slave, my struggles meaningless.  I felt Jelaryn's cock harden
to it's full length in me, and when I was spent, he again began
pumping into my tightly gripping ass, relishing my moans and
struggles beneath him.  His tail squeezing my balls and his
pumping me into Grush quickly had me hard again, and I lost track
of how long I labored beneath my Master that night, his oiled
cock sliding in, completely filling me, and then retreating.
     Grush's ass, wet and filled with oil and come, still gripped
me as I was pounded into it, gradually faster and faster.  My
Master's tail squeezed me tight, and for the second time I ex-
ploded, under my Master's control as my gripping sent him over
the edge as well.  Jelaryn pumped hotly into me at length, enjoy-
ing my struggles in orgasm beneath his weight, the pleasure he
allowed me ultimately serving him.  Finally, his orgasm and mine
completed, he worked his softening cock in and out of my come-
filled rectum as long as he could, using its soft, flexible
thickness to take pleasure from his slave for as long as he was
able.
     Grush cleaned me with his tongue while I did the same for my
master, my head between his sleek thighs, inhaling his reptilian
musk.  Grush left the bed, and Jelaryn lay me upon my back, again
to explore my throat with his tongue.  Through the night, Jelaryn
lay atop me, using me to warm his bed.
