21st Century Gladiators

by Mark Andrews

  Chin was dragged over to the grass beneath the gallows and forced down on her belly while the guards pulled down the rope from the left hand pulley as well as one of those at the centre and buckled the manacles on their ends around her ankles, after which they stood up and began pulling on the other ends of the ropes, dragging her feet up into the air. When she was hanging with her legs drawn out wide and her hands about a foot off the grass, they tied off the ropes.

  We didn’t leave immediately, however. Now the guests strolled in and took it in turns to finger her naked body in its new state — upside down. We slaves were escorted away, though. We had to prepare to wait on those bastards at dinner.

  Dinner was a horrible affair. Oh, not the waiting part. I have no delusions of status and neither has Peter. It was what they did to us while we were waiting on them that was so awful, for they had open slather on us as we moved in beside them to deliver a plate or take away an empty one. Their hands would come out and stroke we girls’ thighs and bottom cheeks, reach up to maul our breasts and worst, to delve into our slits, tickling our clits as they tried to unsettle us.

  It was as bad for the boys for their cocks, already rampant on orders from Jake, came in for masturbatory fondles while their balls were grasped and pulled painfully and their buttocks stroked.

  Some even ordered us to turn around, bend over and spread our nether cheeks so they could poke a finger or two into our anuses!

  And this sort of thing went on right through the meal while Jake looked on, applauding his guests’ efforts and remarking how good our bodies were and that after the evening fight that night, we would all be put up for auction so they could enjoy our sexual favours, the boys as well as us girls!

  This set the tone of the evening and after listening to him, their fingers became even more intrusive, delving right into my vagina while I had to stand there and take it. It was awful and I wondered then how often his guests would be coming out so that we had to take this kind of abuse. He hadn’t told us this — yet, and when he did, I slumped in resignation, for it was going to be on a weekly basis, it seemed. We would have three days with them there and then four days of hard training. Only if too many of us were incapacitated by our fights, would this schedule be relaxed for Jake was in the business for money. Money and the salacious delight he got from the enterprise.

  Of course new couples were arriving all the time for he well knew we wouldn’t be able to fight well every week or so. Our bodies, good and all as they were, just wouldn’t be able to stand the strain. And every one of them went through the same initiation as we had and then started on their training.

  After dinner, another fight was to be staged, his one between two of the boys.

  This fight was a boxing match — a regular boxing match, at least ostensibly, although once again, just about anything went.

  They wore gloves but they were much thinner than the usual boxing gloves. The boys were of course naked and both were rampant—all the boys had been trained to erect their cocks and to keep them that way through all our training sessions, even the pony-gig training and this was so they could do it almost unconsciously during a real fight.

  The protagonists this time were a tall and well-muscled black boy from West Africa and a huge Korean who matched the African for height and weight and whose muscles were even more spectacular.

  There was no bell and no rounds. Hell, there wasn’t even a referee. The pair of them climbed into the ring and then they were at it, punching, feinting, twisting and dancing as a good boxer does. In the beginning they both stuck largely to regular boxing but then the Korean brought his knee up into the black boy’s groin, mashing his balls painfully and he fell back, his face going grey with the agony of the attack.

  The Korean rushed in but the other boy, realising this could well be the end of the fight and that he could end up hanging upside down beside Chin, rallied his strength and was ready for his opponent, using his headlong rush to assist in slamming his fist straight into the boy’s surprised face and following it up with a series of body-bruising punches to his chest and belly and even getting in a superb kick so that the instep of his foot landed even harder on the other boy’s testicles than his had been to him.

  The fight went on but that kick had been the deciding factor. I suspect that if the Korean hadn’t kicked him first, Mambo might not have retaliated and the fight may well have gone the other way. As it was, Park lost after an exhausting fight and now, both of them weary and bloody, he was dragged, almost bodily out to be hosed down and then hung up beside Chin, his big body now dangling forlornly and in about as humiliating a manner as could be imagined for a human being.

  But then it was time for the auction.

  Those of us who were left were now paraded up onto the ring, from which the ropes and posts had now been removed and one by one, until each of us had been sold, we were auctioned. It was a real auction for real money and as I stood there in the line, waiting for my turn to mount the block — yes, Jake even had a real slave block on which we had to stand as he offered our bodies for sexual use — I felt yet another wash of burning shame that I was being so evilly used.

  By this time were more than two dozen of us in all and taking Chin and Park out of the equation meant there would be only two of us not bought, assuming each of the men wanted one of us—or so I thought.

  Not so. As he gestured for the first girl to come out he frowned and the guard behind her pushed her partner out with her. Oh God, I thought, we were to auctioned as a pair so about half the guests would miss out and this would make the price rise decidedly. Jake was certainly a smart businessman, I thought. But what would the boy do while his partner was raped, I wondered. Foolish me. I found out—and very rapidly.

  All deals were done in American dollars and as I heard the bids mounting on the first pair, a Swedish couple named Erik and Inge, I wondered what on Earth was going to happen for I was sure no brothel charged anything like the sums the guests were now bidding on this pair. It kept going up and up, well over a thousand dollars, then two, and still it was rising.

  I looked up at them standing so close together on the wooden block and marvelled at their beauty. Blond, naturally, with very fine, soft golden hair, beautiful skin and physiques to make any person drool, they could well have been international models. What they actually were, I have no idea for the rule against communication was rigidly enforced the whole time we were there and the only way I knew their names was from hearing the guards use them.

  They were sold for two and a half thousand dollars — for a single night or rather half a night for we were all to be collected at two in the morning and so their buyer had paid that enormous (to me) sum for a mere five hours of sex. It was unbelievable but then I wasn’t used to billionaires and what they were prepared to pay for their pleasures.

  The other pairs followed suit and as Peter’s and my turn came closer I began to panic. I had loved sex with Peter and I had at first put up with and then appreciated the lessons Jake gave the pair of us in the sexual arts but now our bodies were actually being auctioned for the right to use them as the buyer thought fit. We would have no say in it at all, unlike regular prostitutes who could set the limits. Not us. Jake had been at pains to inform us that anything went, short of breaking our bodies or actually killing us and if the man wished to maul our flesh or paddle our rumps instead of actually raping us, then that was fine with him and if there was a complaint the next day, we would be in for it — the pair of us.

  The act was as bad as the thought.

  We were bought by ‘Idi Amin’… We never got to hear their real names but even if I had, I would still have thought of this man in the terms of the Ugandan dictator for he was not only like him in appearance but in reputation as well.

  We were delivered to his bure by a guard who then stationed himself outside the door, just in case. The huge man was now we
aring just a silk robe and his enormous body swelled out alarmingly under it. As the door closed on the guard, he now removed it and I stared in revulsion at the mass of blubber standing before me. It started with his fat cheeks, went down the neck, which was so thick you would be forgiven for thinking his head was perched right on top of his shoulders. His chest was more like a woman’s pendulous breasts and below that the rolls of fat in his belly wobbled horribly. His thighs were like tree trunks but were more masses of blubber although by now my eyes were drawn to his genitals.

  He was apparently naturally hairless but even so, I couldn’t believe the appendage that now dangled down to his knees, or almost. It really was that long! And behind its root were a pair of the biggest balls I have even seen on a man. Massive things as big as large duck eggs.

  “First I wish to spank the pair of you,” he boomed as he sat down in a chair he brought from the bathroom. It was like an old-fashioned kitchen chair and I wondered (quite inconsequentially) if it would support his massive weight. It did and then he gestured to me to bend over his knees while he began to wale into my bottom with his huge hand.

  I suppose he gave me a dozen or so slaps, each of them painful — but bearable, and then he pushed me off and ordered Peter to take my place. I think he was even harder with him and after his dozen slaps, ordered me to fetch him a paddle out of a bureau in the room. I paled but obeyed him, handing the thing that looked like a wooden ping-pong bat to him.

  He then gave Peter another dozen strokes — very hard, on his now very red butt cheeks while my man squirmed and wiggled very erotically. Idi grinned as his free hand held my husband’s body close in to his gargantuan belly but then he pushed him off and spread his legs wide, revealing a cock that was now half aroused.

  “Get your mouth in here, white boy, and suck me hard,” he said.

  I paled as I watched this scene unfold. Would Peter do it? I knew he had been trained by Jake how to do this, but that had been on Jake’s fine body, not on this lump of lard and in any case, I guessed the fat man would want a full penetration and I thought that monster cock would go all the way down to his stomach!

  Peter obeyed, though, for which I was very glad as Jake’s punishments, apart from his use of the implants that is, were legendary, as poor Park and Chin were going to find out on the morrow. He got up from his sprawled position on the floor and edged forward and I could see he was trying not to look at the rolls of suet before him, concentrating only on the already half-hard weapon before him and how he was going to get that monster into his mouth and down his throat.

  He managed, somehow, placing his hands on the pudgy thighs and bobbing his head down onto the enormous thing, scooping it into his mouth and beginning to work it with his lips.

  “And now you, white slut, straddle his head so I can feel your flesh,” he spat, grinning salaciously up at me.

  I felt sick. Oh God. Could I? Yes, I had to. I moved up to Peter’s kneeling position in front of the monster and climbed over his upper body and then, following orders for an inspection, raised my hands up to clasp them behind my head and began to undulate my middle for his pleasure. At least I didn’t have to look down on him now for this position required us to bend our heads back to expose our throats so that if we looked at anything at all, it was the ceiling.

  But I could now feel his pudgy hands on my belly, sliding up and down, then reach up to grasp both my breasts while my husband, perched down between my outstretched thighs, continued to bob his head up and down on the now rapidly growing monster-cock.

  Idi’s hands now came back down my belly — apparently he liked my prominent belly muscles for he spent a long time with his fingertips just grazing over them, but then he moved down to my vagina, now right in front of his round, sweaty black face, and began to investigate the inner reaches of that so sensitive organ. He toyed with my clit, pulling it painfully then teased the organ itself to arouse me, then delved in deeper, his face (when I brought myself to looked down at it) now wreathed in almost beatific smiles as he took in my body — but more so, I think, my shame and humiliation at what he was doing to the pair of us.

  This went on for quite a few minutes, at least until Peter had fully aroused the man’s giant pecker. And giant is the operative word. For all his unhealthy bulk, his cock was now rigid — and it was absolutely enormous. It stood straight up from his hairless groin — right up to his pendulous chest. It had to be eighteen inches long, I swear! And it was also thick. As thick as my wrist, I would wager.

  He pushed me away and then did the same to Peter and now grabbed my hand, spinning me around and threw me onto the bed then turned back to Peter. “I require you to fuck me while I rape your wife, white boy,” he snarled. “And don’t get any ideas. The guard is watching and both your numbers are already programmed into his controllers. One wrong move and you both get a real shock…”

  I slumped as I stared up at him standing beside the bed. And then he was on me, his massive prong now spearing into me while Peter had now to mount him from behind, thrusting his own very respectable cock in between those mountainous buttocks.

  I now realised the reason for this. The man had no puff. He was so huge that any exertion at all soon had him exhausted and Peter’s thrusting into his rectum in turn pushed his cock into me.

  He required me to hold his body as he raped me and this was also horrible. If you know anything about fatty tissue on a human body, you will know that it feels cold and clammy, unlike muscled flesh which is smooth and warm. He had so much fat on his body there was no warmth at all and it was as repulsive to the touch as, say, a wet frog.

  But I also had to kiss him. His face slobbered over mine as his fat arms pulled my head in close to his and all the time, Peter was going hell for leather, realising that once this monster was spent, he would probably be exhausted and hopefully fall asleep and we could depart.

  And so it was, but it took an hour or more before that happy moment. An hour of revulsion and horror that the pair of us were being forced to conjoin with that repulsive mountain. But then I felt his seed jet into me and it seemed like only seconds after that that he rolled backwards — and Peter only had a moment to pull out and get away before the mountain squashed him.

  But then the guard came in, staring with as much revulsion as we had felt over the last couple of hours at the now snoring mass of blubber and curtly gestured to us to get up and follow him out of the room and back to our cage.

  Chapter 4

  The next morning we were available for pony duty.

  Once more we were lined up to be auctioned, this time as single ponies. Chin and Park were of course unavailable as they were still hanging upside down out on the scaffold. Also exempt was the pair who were going to fight this afternoon. That left exactly the same number of us slaves as guests, but I did hope some might not wish to hire us, and perhaps I might be lucky enough not to be hired — small hope!

  Small hope indeed. They all did and once more I had reason to marvel at the huge sums they bid on our bodies for the right to whip us around the bridle paths we had cut through the bush on the island.

  This time I was not bought by Idi but by a tall thin Arab whose black eyes and huge hooked nose bespoke cruelty. I shuddered as I imagined him wielding his whip to my back and hindquarters.

  We were all duly harnessed to our gigs and during the process, our ‘fares’ all stood around, eyes glittering and cocks hard as they watched each one of us in turn fitted to the horrible things. My buyer came up close and squatted down beside me to watch in detail as I had to stand with my legs wide apart and the guard pushed the anal dildo into my rectum and then added the frontal one as well, sliding it on its collar up close to the base of the anal dildo and locking it in place. He even lifted his leg and put his foot on the shaft to test the security of the two dildos before moving back to the gig and mounting it. I screamed at least a little as the d
ownward pressure of his foot on the two orifices stretched and pulled at them but of course given the angles on the two dildos and the way they entered my body, there was no way they could slip out, no matter how much he pushed. Pain, yes, and it was very painful indeed, but fall out, no.

  I had first been bridled of course and now he took up the reins and grasped the whip in his other hand while I waited for the signal to take off. It came. He shook the reins against my shoulders and at the same time gave me a vicious cut of the whip to my back and rear. I jumped at the pain for not even our sadistic guards had whipped me this hard but I also took off — and in a hurry. I didn’t want another cut like that one. Foolish me. He was going to whip me no matter how diligent and hard-working I was. That was what he had come to see: slave-boys and girls caged like slaves of old, or rather, as animals in a zoo; forced to fight naked in vicious blood contests; and then those same slaves recruited to act as human ponies for their pleasure. They also delighted in watching the losers in our fights viciously punished for their pleasure.

  My rider was not only brutal in the way he wielded the whip, from which I had already taken three horrible lashes; he also used the reins in just as horrible a manner, violently pulling on one rein or the other to turn me, rather than the gentle tug which was all that was necessary. The vicious yanks tore at my mouth, adding to the pain of the bit and making me feel all the more like an animal — a beast of burden…

  He made me run all out, too, especially on the straights. I was soon tired for he really got stuck into my back with the whip and the pressure on my nether orifices had caused them to pain far more than on any of our practice runs. I was even beginning to worry that the dildo in my vagina might well do me some real damage. Not that the other one didn’t hurt too. If anything, it hurt more but I knew that the anus and rectum were far more hardy organs than my vagina and although at that time I held out little hope that we might ever be rescued, I still harboured a slim hope that one day I would want to bear Peter’s child and all this jerking around of the dildo up there might well prevent that.