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Aaron's Game
Chapter 5: Pranks and Spanks

by Redspkscott

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Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 01 Jan 2017

Aaron’s Game – Chapter Five: Pranks and Spanks

We wandered through the park some more, noting all the construction, looking for the prank shop we were told about.

Look over there, Craig said, pointing off to the side. An executive appeared to be having an angry conversation with a blue collar. The blue collar hung his head and nodded in agreement with whatever the executive said. The blue collar then turned and walked over to a circular tube on a small pillar nearby.

Is that one of those spanking tubes like from the arena? Craig asked. The blue collar opened a door in the tube. Then he unfastened his overalls and stripped down far enough to expose his massive muscle bottom. He stepped into the tube turned around and closed the door. In a moment, the tube rotated around to show his bare ass sticking out of a hole in the middle of the tube.

Looks like it, I said. It even has the timer at the top. We watched the executive fiddle around with what appeared to be some sort of remote. The timer showed 4:00:00. Four hours. He pressed a button, and just as with the arena, two mechanical arms ending in metal paddles appeared to unfold from the sides of the tube and within seconds, the blue collar was being paddled harshly.

Oh, that makes sense now, Craig said. They aren’t unique to us. They’re around for automated punishment at other places, too.

You know, they might be effective for those guys, I said. Especially if an executive is managing a number of blue collars, he might not have time to directly discipline them every time they fuck up.

We may even be able to keep them around the stadium for when the workers misbehave, Craig said.

Yeah, definitely, I said. But this actually makes it even more important that we not use them. Our punishments have to be special and different to keep the audience’s attention. We can’t just stick each other in the same punishment machines that our fans see wherever they work.

You know, as much as I like the idea of fighting for it, I’m kind of turned on by the obedience of the blue collars, Craig said. I need to get me one.

I know, I said. Max is a golden boy, but blue is his second color, and once I had him beaten he accepted his role as a sub for me pretty quickly. We can use him to practice punishment ideas for losing gladiators.

Nice, Craig said. I think the prank store is over there. He pointed over to a fairly large building within a row of souvenir shops. The sign simply read Pranks.

Nothing has real names, I said. We need to work on that. The stadium doesn’t even have a name.

We wandered inside and looked around. Some of the goods were familiar. There were paddles and lube for sale. But there were all sorts of interesting products we hadn’t seen before. A beefy blond producer appeared to be overseeing the store. He smiled when he saw us and waved us in.

Hey there, guys, he said. Come take a look around. I can answer any questions. He introduced himself as Tucker.

Craig immediately started looking over the merchandise.

So what’s the goal here? I asked.

Well, there’s fun stuff you can do with your ass, Tucker explained, or somebody else’s unwilling ass that doesn’t just involve spanking and sex.

What are these pills? Craig asked, holding up a large bottle. Farty Party, he read.

Those are farting pills, Tucker said. We looked at each other. I shrugged.

What is farting? I asked.

It’s a funny sound your butt can make, Tucker said. The Painfather actually told me about it in a dream.

Craig popped open the bottle and quickly downed a pill. He offered me the bottle.

I’ll wait to see what it does to you, I said. I noticed some mesh metal gloves and put one on.

What do these do? I asked.

They heat up scorching hot, Tucker said. If you like spanking by hand but want to add a little more to the experience, this will do you good. Let me show you. He flipped a switch on the wrist. I felt it heating up, but of course I couldn’t feel any pain. Then he leaned over a display table, dropped his jeans and briefs and wiggled his bare bottom for me.

Give me a couple of swats and see, Tucker said. I walked over and swatting him firmly on the right cheek with my hand. After the sound of the smack, there was a sizzling sound. He stood back up and yelped in pain. I pulled my hand away and his ass now had a visible red handprint. I gave him a few more smacks until he was gasping in pain.

That one’s real popular with the hunters, Tucker said, carefully pulling his jeans back up and rubbing his butt once I was done. Then, suddenly we heard, PBBRRRRT!

That was my butt, Craig said. Was that a fart?

Yes! Tucker said.

Does it hurt? I asked.

No, Craig said. It’s like my ass is breathing out. A few seconds later there was another one, BLBBBRT! He laughed.

I like it, Craig said. But what’s the point of it?

It can be just for fun, Tucker said, but there are some mean things to do with them. You can’t control the farts. They come out whether you want them to or not. Some guys don’t appreciate those kinds of humorous interruptions, like say a commando’s supervising officer. Force a commando to swallow one and then he starts farting during the morning lineup.

He’s gonna end up with his ass busted, I said. But we don’t deal with commandos a lot.

I bet the coaches won’t be happy when their golden boys keep farting when he’s trying to go over game strategy, Craig said between farts.

Ooh, I said. That’s brilliant.

There’s something else, too, Tucker said. There’s some chemicals that interact. He picked up a nearby jar of something and handed it to Craig.

Activation cream, Craig said. What does it do?

Rub some on your butt. Just a little bit, not a whole lot.

I don’t do a little bit of anything, Craig said. He pulled his shorts down and rubbed a palm-full of the cream on each of his buttocks. Then he pulled his shorts back up and folded his hands, waiting.

Nothng’s happening, he said. Tucker raised a finger. Suddenly Craig farted. Then his face changed. His eyes widened and he bellowed Shit, it burns! Shit! SHIT! He grabbed his ass cheeks and bounced around the store.

Your farts interact with the chemicals in the activation cream, causing it to heat up. He farted again and yelped in pain again.

I can’t stop it, can I? Craig said, rubbing his bottom.

That’s why I told you just a little bit, Tucker said. It wears off in a bit, but the more you use, the longer it takes.

Well, that’s what I get, Craig said, then yelped again as another fart made his ass burn.

I see plenty of use for that combo in the future, I said. Definitely fun and mean.

We looked at some more fun prank items as Craig struggled with his burning bottom. I suggested to him that he pull his trunks down so the farts don’t get trapped there, but he insisted on being tough about it. He nevertheless yelped every time he farted and wriggled his ass around in pain.

Here’s something fun that doesn’t hurt at all, Tucker said to me. Drop your shorts. He was holding two small rectangular pads.

I did as ordered, but warned, If you’re lying, you’re going to be dancing around here just like Craig here with your ass on fire. I dropped trou and bent over the display table. He stuck one pad on each of my butt cheeks.

Okay, now pull your shorts back up, he said. I did as ordered. Then he pulled out a small remote control and pressed a button. I felt a throbbing feeling in my butt, but not a painful one. Then I felt my butt cheeks bouncing around.

Your ass is dancing on its own, Craig said. It looks like you’re being paddled, but you’re not.

It doesn’t hurt or anything, I said. I looked at my ass in a nearby mirror. It was happily bouncing in place like it was being spanked.

That’s really hot, Craig said. It’s like an invitation to be spanked.

That’s kind of the idea, Tucker said. An invitation to be dominated, at least for this setting. There’s other settings, too. He pressed another button and my ass cheeks started bouncing together rather loudly.

You’re clapping your ass, Craig said.

That’s a fun one to make guys do and then put them in one of the spanking tubes, Tucker said. You can have it active while being punished, by the way. It operates through electrical currents and overrules your butt muscles’ natural reactions.

So you can control how the ass responds when you’re paddling it? I said. That’s great.

You can even force a butt to relax and take the swats if they squeeze their cheeks together to resist, Tucker said. I know you golden boys don’t do that, but some other guys do. There’s one more setting here you may be interested in if you plan to attend any punk shows.

Hmm, I might, I said. That reminded me I was hoping to see Levi around here today, maybe, as purple was one of his secondary colors, but so far no luck.

You can set it so that it reacts to music, Tucker said. Your ass will bounce along with the song. Fun at concerts.

Also potentially fun at home, Craig pointed out. Play some music and make his ass bounce to it while you paddle him.

Wouldn’t it be embarrassing if you, as a big manly gladiator, had your ass forced to bounce long to some song while you got your ass beat because you lost a match? I asked.

Interesting, Craig said. He reached out and smacked my ass with the paddle as it bounced. He was getting a hard-on watching me. Tucker finally turned the pads off.

I’ll take those, I said. Hell I’ll take some of everything, I bet. I looked around some more.

Itching cream? I said, looking at some tubes.

Our asses can feel itching, Tucker said. Especially in the ass crack. It’s another way to make your victim squirm. I grinned and started grabbing several tubes.

How long does this stuff last? I asked.

Hours, and it’s not water-soluble, Tucker said. It can’t be washed off. You just have to wait it out.

I intend to make use of this, I said. Those odd urges came back suddenly. The itching cream just felt right. I couldn’t wait to use it on somebody.

What’s this stuff? Craig asked, holding a small bottle with a red liquid inside. Fire Oil, it’s called. Tucker sucked in a deep breath in response.

That stuff is vicious, Tucker said. I’m half-afraid to tell you what it does.

We both gave him a look.

Well, now I really want to know, Craig said.

If you really want to punish a guy’s asshole to hurt as much as the rest of his ass, that’s what you use. You just need a drop or two right on his hole and watch his reaction, he said.

I think we need to try it, I said to Craig. He nodded at me.

You won’t be sitting down for a while, Tucker warned.

I didn’t say we were going to try it on us, I said. We both stared at him until he grasped the meaning behind our twin grins.

Aw dammit, he muttered as we approached. You guys are as bad as the hunters. We laughed as we grabbed him and threw him up onto the display table, knocking all sorts of things off. Craig started peeling his jeans down.

Guys, one promise, please? Tucker begged.

What’s that? Craig asked.

You have to promise to fuck me afterward, Tucker said.

Oh, what a terrible imposition, Craig sarcastically responded. Why would I ever fuck that big, gorgeous blond butt of yours? I must rethink this terrible plan.

I know, I know, Tucker said. Just promise to do it.

Okay, Craig said. I promise to fuck your ass good and raw. I walked over to one of the displays and grabbed a bottle of lube there.
You’ll understand why, afterward, Tucker said. Then he ended his struggling and lay down on the table with his ass up in the air. Just a couple of drops. Before you start feeling even more sadistic, additional drops don’t cause anything more to happen. It’s just a waste.

I grabbed Tucker’s cheeks and parted them while Craig unscrewed the bottle. It had a dropper inside to distribute the red liquid. He carefully pulled it out and held it over Tucker’s quivering hole. He squeezed and a couple of drops dripped down onto Tucker’s exposed rectum. Nothing happened for a couple of seconds. Then Tucker began to scream and squirm on the table.

Grab his legs, Craig said. The guy was kicking all over the place as his ass spasmed. I grabbed his legs and forcefully held them down. His ass was bouncing back and forth on top of the table.

God it hurts! He hollered. Please make it stop!

Use those pads to make his ass relax so we can get a look, Craig said. I attached those electric butt pads and fiddled with the remote settings until I found one called submit. His ass immediately stopped bouncing around, though he was still squirming and yelling in pain.

Wow, this is amazing, Craig said, amused at Tucker’s torture. He reached up and parted Tucker’s cheeks to take a look. I peeked in as well. His rectum was a deep, dark red and it was quivering on its own, opening slightly and closing.

God, please fuck me! Tucker said as he writhed around on the table.

What, right now? Craig asked.

Please! Craig shrugged at me.

You are hard as a rock, I pointed out.

I think I like seeing the hole get punished, he said. I know I like it when the sex hurts. He pulled his shorts down and climbed on top of Tucker on the table to fuck him. He pushed his way in and Tucker screamed even louder.

Oh god! he wailed and struggled to relax while Craig fucked him. For fun I switched the programming on the butt pads to clap, and made Tucker’s ass cheeks slam together violently.

Holy shit, that makes the sex feel awesome, Craig said. His rectum opens and closes more because of the clapping. Amusingly, Craig was still farting now and then through all of this.

Please hurry, Tucker whimpered.

Hey, I like to take my time, Craig grunted, thrusting good and hard. You’re just going to have to wait until I’m ready. I walked around the table to watch the sex from the front. Tucker’s ass was in the air clapping along with Craig’s fucking. Tucker was bawling as though he had been paddled for hours. That Ring of Fire must be some powerful stuff. I wondered how it compared to getting fucked by Max’s massive cock. Then I wondered how it would feel to be fucked by Max’s massive cock while under the effects of this oil.
After about 15 minutes of fucking, Craig began panting heavily and thrusting harder, pushing Tucker against the table and grunting with pleasure. Finally he came and came hard, the fluid filling up Tucker’s ass and overflowing.

Then Tucker began to pant and moan and his crying and screaming stopped. Something was happening. Soon he began to writhe around on the table, not in pain, but apparently pleasure.

Yes, there you go, he said as Craig finished off his lengthy orgasm. Ahhhh. That feels so good.

What’s going on? I asked.

The oil reacts to cum and reverses itself, Tucker said between soft moans. Then it starts soothing the pain it used to create. He flopped down onto the table as Craig’s semen slowly dripped out of his hole.

It’s a reward for tolerating the punishment, I said. That was the Painfather’s attitude toward sex. Make it hurt to reward the dominant man, but ultimately make it feel good at the end for the victim or submissive, so that he’ll find some sort of acceptance with what happened. It makes it fun for both parties.

How long does the Fire Oil last if you don’t fuck him? Craig asked.

I think about three hours, Tucker said. Like the itching cream, it can’t be washed off. Your rectal muscles absorb the oil and there’s no way to get it out. You need to either suffer or change the chemical make-up by fucking.

Well, it looks like we made a mess of your shop, I said.

No, Craig said. This is my shop. He gave me a grin.

What do you mean? Tucker asked.

I’m taking ownership of this shop, Craig said. I love all this stuff and I have ideas for more.

How do you do that? Tucker said. I’m waiting for an executive to show up to run the place.

Oh, he’ll still run the place, Craig said. But you’ll all work for me. Anybody have a problem with that and I’ll be sure to talk to him. I’ll use short words so that I can get in more paddle swats. You have a problem with it, Tucker?

No, Tucker said in a long moan, his ass quivering.

Good, Craig said. We’re gonna call the place Craig’s Pranks and Spanks.

While Craig explained to Tucker where he lived so that he could tell the executive when he showed up, I grabbed a bag and collected at least one of just about everything. Craig and I were on the same page about this place. It was great. I took a bunch of the itching creams. I had some ideas bouncing around in my head.

When he was done chatting with Tucker and the producer had recovered from his painful fuck, we decided to head out to go visit the warehouse.

You’ll see me again soon, Craig warned. Tucker sighed but also gave a sheepish smile as he cleaned up the mess we made.

I got that idea from you taking over the penthouse, Craig said as we headed back toward the entrance.

Good move! I said. I think you’re a good choice to keep that place innovating. I think I may end up incorporating some of this stuff into the arena somehow.

Excellent, he said.

Luis the Jovial waved us over as we were heading toward the exit.

You enjoy the visit, boys? He asked.

We gave some tips to the midway and the Hall of Fear, I said.

Great, Luis answered.

And I’m taking ownership of the prank shop, Craig said.

Really? Luis asked. He seemed happy about it.


Good, good. Everybody thinks the executives are supposed to own the shops, but that’s not necessarily true. They’re good at running things. But I don’t think folks have realized that the shops and such are kind of up for grabs. The commandos have figured it out, though. They’re driven to dominate whatever they can, so they’re trying to claim everything they come across. We’re not a high target for them here, but keep that in mind.

Good to know, Craig said. Luis wished us well and we left the park, heading north to the warehouse where Brick the Brutal was holding court.

That explains the commandos taking over that one building, I said.

That one was right next to ours, Craig said. They were beating those punks for hours. It was fun to watch, but I did wonder if they were going to come for us next. I wasn’t really worried, because we know how to fight, but still.

I think it would be kind of fun to have a massive fight between us and the commandos, I said.

Mostly because we’d win and we’d have a big paddle and fuck party, Craig said.

We laughed as we approached a large warehouse in an industrial part of town. It was fenced off with signs every few feet that read WARNING: You may be punished! We made our way around the perimeter until we found a large entry gate. Small groups of guys approached and made their way in, looking around a little nervously. A pack of hunters were gathered around the gate watching folks enter.

Ahead of us by a few yards, a pair of blue-collar boys approached the gate. The minute they stepped in, two hunters immediately grabbed them and yanked them away from the gate into the warehouse yard.

What’s going on? one of the guys asked as he was led away. We didn’t do anything wrong!

Doesn’t matter, one of the hunters said.

Hmm, interesting, I said.

I hope they don’t think they can just lead us away like that and submit, Craig said.

We’re about to find out, I said. We stepped beyond the gate. The gathered hunters looked at us and nodded.

Welcome, gladiators, one of the men said. Head up to the main warehouse to meet Brick. He’s holding forth inside.

I was a touch disappointed we weren’t going to have a fight, but Craig and I headed in. Inside the yard, there were outdoor benches everywhere and everywhere a hunter was sitting on one with a blue-collar guy over his knee getting punished.

They seem a bit single-minded today, Craig observed. Maybe it’s a theme. Today it’ll be blue collars. Tomorrow it will be pretty boys, or something.

We saw the two blue collars who were ahead of us before. They had been dragged over to an outdoor patio table and bent over it. We watched as a hunter pulled out a large knife, then cut a huge flap in the seat of their overalls, so that it pulled down, exposing their bare bottoms.

There, one hunter said. You go find one of them pretty boys who knows sewing, have him fix this up with some buttons so that the flap can be opened and closed easily, got it? And then you get the same done with the rest of your overalls. Got it?

Yes, okay! the blue collar said.

Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself, the hunter said. My name is sir. My buddy’s name here is also sir. You will refer to every hunter you meet as sir from now on, is that understood, boy?

Okay. The hunter rolled his eyes toward the sky.

Slow learner, he muttered. He pulled a heavy paddle off his belt, dragged the blue collar over to a chair, pulled him over his knee, and began paddling furiously. The guy started yelping in pain.

Yes, sir! He yelled. I’m sorry, sir! The hunter kept paddling.

I hope they’re not expecting us to do that, Craig said.

I don’t think so, I said. I saw a couple of other gladiators, a few commandos, some punks and even an executive wandering around watching. They were not being treated like these guys. Just establishing what their relationship with the blue collars is going to be like. We looked around and saw the guys all being paddled hard and their bottoms bouncing up and down while they cried in pain. But they weren’t in bondage and seemed to be obediently accepting their fate.

I bet they did the same thing to the pretty boys, Craig said. And they probably loved it.

We headed up to the actual warehouse. More hunters were at the entrance. It looked like there was a line to get in, like a club.

We waited dutifully in line until we go to the front. Then we saw one of the hunters had a laptop computer on a podium and another one had a camera. They were taking a photo of every guy who entered and recorded his image along with his name.

That’s unusual, I said.

Yeah, but it is a reminder we should get laptops to start working on the arena and our matches, Craig said.

We got to the front of the line.

We were quickly photographed and asked our name. We shrugged at each other and told them. He typed the information into the computer and there was a beep. He nodded and told us we could enter.

Can I ask why you’re doing this? I asked.

Brick will explain it all to you inside, the hunter said. You won’t be able to miss him.

We made our way in. The warehouse was massive, but dimly lit and a bit smoky. Many of the hunters were partial to cigars. There were sounds of men being punished everywhere. Though blue collars were suffering outside, it looked they had a pack of pretty boys in restraints and strapped down on tables and benches. The hunters were punishing them with straps, paddles, and even whips. They’d stop and periodically talk with other guys who were watching the scene. One of them showed an executive how to use a thick, wide strop on the well-bruised backside of a pretty boy.

I think they’re giving lessons, Craig said.

See, they have a friendly side, I said. We both laughed.

Up in the front of the warehouse was a large platform. Strapped down on a punishment bench was a handsome commando. The bottom of his fatigues had been torn off and he was gagged to keep from yelling. His ass was a deep red.

My eyes, though, were drawn to the man punishing him. Brick the Brutal was a huge motherfucker. Probably eight feet tall. Possibly more than 350 pounds of muscle. He wore leather pants with spikes running down the outsides of the legs. His belt also had spikes. He had dark hair and even darker eyes. His exposed chest was covered with sexy scars over his muscles. His brow was low and his face was wide, giving him an untamed, brutish look. Even if he weren’t beating the commando with a massive metal paddle with holes in it, you’d know this was a violent man you were dealing with. Even with the gag, Brick was punishing his victim so hard we could hear his efforts to scream from off the platform.

Hardcore, Craig said.

Yeah, but is he going to be up there for 24 hours? I asked.

The paddling went on for a few minutes. Then Brick took a break to talk to the gathering crowd.

We got a new crew here? He asked. Good. Let’s get to it. I’m Brick the Brutal, Bearer of the Black, Patron of the Hunters. I was the first patron the Painfather created. I’m pretty simple. I’m in it for the pain and the suffering and the sadistic thrill of seeing men cry. Some of you may enjoy punishing each other in order to prove your dominance, whether it’s physical like the golden boys and the commandos, or social, like the executives. I don’t really care about the reason why. I just care that you do it and do it hard. He turned and paddled the imprisoned commando five more very hard times.

Want to know what Ethan here did to receive this punishment? Brick asked. Nothing. Nothing at all. He was in the crowd about two hours ago and I decided I wanted to beat his ass. And so I am. He gave him a few more swats.

The Painfather in his wisdom realized that a whole society of guys like me wouldn’t work. That’s fine. Folks are different. My hunters, though, are the closest to me. They are driven to inflict pain because the very nature of it arouses them. The blistering and bruising of the bottom. The sizzling feeling of the bare flesh. Every cry is like a prayer to me. I don’t care about the reason why. Neither do they.

Those of you who also bear my color understand the feeling, even if you tie it up in other types of dominance games, Brick continues. We accept that. We do see you all part of our great brotherhood of pain. Me and my hunters just happen to be the best, purest part of it. We all laughed.

I think it’s time to let poor Ethan here, go, Brick said. He untied the guy and removed his gag. Ethan practically collapsed in pain after climbing off the bench. His eyes and entire face was red and wet from tears and bawling. He clutched his bottom as he slowly limped his way off the stage. We all spontaneously applauded for him.

It’s funny that you’re cheering since I now have an opening on stage, Brick pointed out. That shut us all up.

So you may wonder how exactly my hunters are fitting in with you guys. Obviously, they’re going to take great enjoyment in tracking you down, getting the best of you however they can, and beat your ass raw. We do not play fair, by the way, so be warned. But that’s not all. As you can see, we are experts in bondage and restraint equipment. The hunters will be offering their expertise in creating discipline systems for the rest of you. And they will even offer themselves. Several hunters gathered up on the stage and around us.

The hunters are for hire, Brick said. We have a bounty system. If there’s somebody out there you think deserves to have his ass beat, but you aren’t able to dominate him yourself, don’t despair. Come to my boys. But be prepared to pay. Here’s how it works: Let’s say you’re a producer who is working hard but your executive is riding your ass and you think it’s time that he got taken down a notch. You find one of my hunters, and he wants to know how long you want the guy punished for. Three hours, you say? He can do that for you. But there’s a price. And it’s the same as what you’re asking. So if you want my hunter to punish your boss for three hours, the hunter gets to punish you for three hours.

Interesting, but I don’t see me ever hiring a hunter, or needing one, I whispered to Craig as the crowd murmured.

We might end up dealing with this system from the other end, Craig said. Imagine fans upset at their favorite gladiator’s performance. Or wanting to take a rival down a notch.

Oh, you’re right, I said. Interesting.

But there’s more! Brick said. It’s kind of a tough price to have to endure three hours of punishment in order to give somebody else three hours of punishment, right? That’s okay. It doesn’t have to be you paying alone. What if you have two other buddies who are upset at the same guy? The three of you can go to the hunter and pay an hour each. Then he’ll go find your mark and punish him for three hours.

Oh, that’s a neat twist, I said. I think they’re going to get a lot of work.

There’s a reason I’m telling you this, Brick said. It’s because our first bounty is right here in the warehouse at this very moment.

Oh, that’s why he let the commando go, Craig said. I wonder who the poor victim is?

Yes, who could have gotten himself into that much trouble so quickly? This was our third day here. Who could have gotten so much attention?

Oh, shit.

I glanced up to the stage, as I skimmed over the hunters standing up there, each of them made eye contact. I looked at their hankies. All of them had either gold or purple as a secondary color. I slowly turned around. There were a good ten hunters behind us. And there were Joss and Edgar. Joss affixed me with that dark look of his. They both looked me in the eye.

It’s me, I said to Craig.

What? Craig asked.

I dropped low and pulled out my paddle as the hunters began to circle. Craig spun around and soon we stood back to back.

It’s me they’re after, I said. You shouldn’t get involved.

Nope, we’re partners now, Craig said. And we’re gladiators. I’m not just going to let a buddy get taken down.

But there were a good dozen of them and two of us. We went down fighting, but we went down. We were forced down despite our best efforts and our wrists were forced behind our backs. Then they pulled us back up so we could face the stage.

So, Brick explained, Some folks who saw that inaugural gladiator fight thought Aaron’s sportsmanship was a bit lacking. They don’t think what happened was fair to Reuben. One of them had a chat with one of my hunters, Joss. I looked behind me to see that Joss was one of the men holding my arms and keeping me from fighting back.

Told you I’d meet you again, he growled in my ear.

Joss explained to him how the bounties work and he came back with a bunch of buddies and paid the price to have Aaron punished. And since his friend wants to interfere, I will use my position as the patron god hereabouts and order that he receive the same punishment.

Shit, sorry, I said.

Don’t worry about it, Craig said. What’s a couple of hours of punishment between gladiators?

Let me show you the kind of skill my hunters have when it comes to restraint craftsmanship. I think these harnesses will be perfect for our purposes.

The rest of the crowd had backed away from us and given the hunters the floor. Two hunters brought out some large, complicated steel restraint pieces and began strapping us into them. I struggled, not that it did any good. The first piece attached around my upper torso and was curved and extremely unyielding. The curve forced us to push our chests and stomachs out as much we possibly could and even pulled our necks back when attached. We were essentially bent back looking at the ceiling.

This will make sense when you’re in position, Joss said.

Then our arms we restrained firmly behind us to the back of this truss in multiple spots. Once it was all attached we could not move our arms or upper torso from the shoulders to the bottom of our abdomen muscles. Then a set of leg restraints were locked on, forcing our legs a couple inches apart and locking them into position from the mid-thighs down. When all was done, we could swivel our heads around, wiggle our hips a bit, and flop our feet around helplessly.

This seems like a crazy amount of work, I said. I noticed out of the corner of my eye, a guy video recording the session. It was a producer.

Looks like we’re going to be making another splash on the television, I said to Craig. Hey, the public will finally get to know you, too.

Well, that saves me some effort, Craig joked. No, we weren’t taking this too seriously. When the threat of day-long punishment is always over your head, a few hours of pain didn’t really scare so much. Though I was curious to see how skilled these guys were with punishment. And if the bounty system got the fans directly involved with us, maybe that was something that could be used to keep us popular?

The hunters brought out four strong steel stools and set them in a row in the center of the room. I wondered why they didn’t put us on stage, but doing it right here would let people walk around and watch from different angles. Two pairs of hunters sat on the stools, facing each other.

Over you go, Joss said. He and Edgar easily lifted me up and placed me stomach down over the laps of two hunters facing each other. The hunters had paddles at the ready to begin beating us. Once we were both in position, the restraints made more sense. The arch of the truss forced our backsides up in the air in an extremely vulnerable, extremely submissive position. We looked like we really, really wanted our asses paddled more than anything in the world. Our heads were facing forward now, and we were in a good position to look around. We were just helpless to do anything about what we saw.

These are way better than the spanking tubes, Craig said.

I was thinking that, I said. We’ll definitely get these guys to help us out with their expertise.

Our boys are not particularly nervous about this punishment, Brick said to the room. The gladiators see themselves as the toughest men this world has to offer. But that’s a challenge that needs to be tested in order to be proven.

At this point, two hunters forced gags into our mouths so we couldn’t communicate any more. We looked at each other and then back up to Brick. A digital clock lit up on the wall behind him on the stage.

The gentleman who called for the bounty found seven additional buddies who agreed that Aaron’s poor sportsmanship should be punished, Brick said. I groaned in the gag. That meant eight hours, I assumed.

Joss grabbed seven hunter buddies, Brick said. And their employers agreed to pay three hours of punishment apiece. My eyes widened with realization. I looked over to Craig, and he understood too. He started shaking his head.

The clock on the wall suddenly updated. It read 24:00:00. Twenty-four hours. They were going to beat our asses for twenty-four hours in a row.

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