From uwm.edu!linac!midway!ellis.uchicago.edu!lev0 Sun Apr 28 19:30:30 CDT 1991


     I knew what to expect when I entered the gladiator's barracks,
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 themselves 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 challenge 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 strokable 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 breaking
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 responsibility, 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, lulling 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, hitting 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 immediately.
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 iguanalike 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 instead 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 inevitable.
     From his position atop me, his tail curled powerfully between 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
snakelike 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 scraping 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 multipled 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 orgasm, 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 exploded, under my
Master's control as my gripping sent him over the edge as well.
Jelaryn pumped hotly into me at length, enjoying 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.

-- 
"Do not TAUNT Happy Fun Ball."


