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Aaron's Game
Chapter 8: Punks Vs. Commandos

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: 07 Jan 2017

Aaron’s Game – Chapter Eight: Punks Vs. Commandos

Craig yelped and gasped as Max fucked him hard. I had bent Craig over the end of one of the living room sofa and ordered Max to show him the kind of damage his massive cock could do to a man’s rectum. Max was happy to oblige.

I watched for a few minutes but then started getting turned on watching Max’s bare ass bounce as he screwed Craig. I walked over to him and started pulling down my shorts.

Bend over more, I growled in his ear. He obliged as I lubed up. Then he begin to moan as I slowly forced my cock up his ass while he was fucking Craig.

Now, I ordered. Don’t push all the way in on Craig until I do the same to you. Max whimpered in pain as I milked a good long fuck, not pushing all the way in so that he wouldn’t feel pleasure yet. He was clearly doing the same to Craig. Craig may have liked a good, rough fuck, but it seemed pretty clear that maybe Max’s dick was a bit rougher than he thought it would be.

I made them go on like this for a good long time, until the elevator dinged and Victor returned bearing a stack of laptop computers. He was polite enough not to say a word – the cameras were rolling after all – and set them all down on the conference table.

Finally, I pushed deep into Max, enjoying his new moans of pleasure. He immediately pushed deeper into Craig, making him take his full cock.

Oh, yes, that’s it, that’s the stuff! Craig growled as his ass was fucked deep and hard. Unlike Max, though, he still felt the pain along with pleasure and continued yelping along with his moaning. This went on for another good, five minutes. Max and I both ended up coming at the same time, me spilling my load into him and him into Craig. Max took longer to fill Craig’s ass with his massive load, and my gladiator buddy lay there panting as Max spewed inside him like a spigot.

That’s a lot! he moaned.

Yeah, Max said as the cum overflowed out of Craig’s ass and dripped all over the floor.

I pulled out and slid my shorts back up.

Clean up this mess, I told Max, smacking him on the bottom. Maybe if you’re a good boy and keep the penthouse clean, I’ll let you fuck Craig every time I beat him sparring.

Craig still lay over the sofa, rubbing his blistered bottom, recovering from combination of the punishment and the fucking, moaning just a bit.

I acknowledged Victor now.

I brought you guys laptops to help you all communicate, Victor said. The city is all hooked up. You can e-mail and message each other as long as you know each other’s name. We set up a special private board for gladiators to talk so you all can organize better.

We can work out our ideas and pass them back and forth and get feedback from the other gladiators, I said.

Yeah, there’s a message for you guys already, Victor said. The grays want to get you all back in the stadium tomorrow to get things started with the planning.

Already taking charge, I said. Wonder how the greens will feel?

I think they just want to dominate on the field, Craig said. I don’t think they want to deal with the operational stuff.

We could ask Reuben, Max said. He pointed over to the pool, where Reuben had Rico upside down over his lap while resting on a lounge chair. He was finger-fucking Rico’s muscular bottom with gusto while Rico squirmed and squealed in discomfort.

Let him have his fun, I said. Looks like Reuben had embraced his own little quirk.

Craig and I started fiddling with our new laptops as Max cleaned up our mess. Then we felt it. We all cocked our heads, even Victor.

Something. An urge, Craig said.

The Painfather told me this would be his last direct influence on us, I said.

I’m getting an image of a nearby parking garage, Victor said.

Oh, of course, I said. How else are we going to explore further?

We all gathered, including Reuben, Rico (who was rubbing his bottom) and Jeffrey and headed downstairs. Other men were flowing out into the street as well.

That way, Reuben pointed. We could feel a pull a couple of blocks northeast. There was a tall parking garage there. We could see the cars inside there as we tramped over.

Do we each get our own car? Victor asked.

I hope so, Craig said.

As we filed into the garage we saw a vehicle in every parking space. Each of them had a license plate that spelled out a man’s name.

Aha, I said. We have to find ours. We separated and explored. After a few minutes I found mine. It was a sleek, white, and extremely sporty convertible. Along the side was a racing stripe, going from gold, to purple to black. The car matched my shorts! I looked over to see a car just like mine in the next space, but blue. The license plate spelled out Craig. I called out to him and he jogged over.

Damn, these cars are sexy! He said. As we took a look at them, we heard a honk behind us. Max was in a beefy white pick-up truck with a gold, blue and gray detail stripe along the side.

Jeffrey and Rico got pick-ups, too, Max said. I guess our vehicles depend on our type or something. I saw Reuben drooling over a red convertible just like yours.

Park that thing and get in here with me and Craig, I ordered. We’ll go explore a little bit. Max obeyed and we all climbed into my speedster. There was no back seat, so it was a bit of a tight fit for the three of us.

We carefully made our way out of the garage. It took a little while because of the traffic jam that resulted from everybody discovering our cars at once. Eventually we made it to the road and I sent us exploring down the coast for a bit.

Commandos all have Jeeps, it looks like, Craig pointed out. They passed by Victor in a cute little convertible of his own, but more of a fun trendy machine, not a speedster like ours. We saw executives in big sedans. Punks had vans with what sounded like very loud music speakers in them.

Is that Joss? Craig asked. We pulled up next to a motorcycle. Sure enough, Joss was astride it, chewing on a cigar. He nodded at us.

Greetings, boys, He said amicably enough. Brick told me that I should expect to be working more with you guys soon.

Under orders of extreme pain otherwise, I said. Joss laughed. He seemed to be in good humor, but that may have had something to do with his passenger. He had a golden boy in a blue singlet tied and bound over the motorcycle seat right behind him, his ass in the air.

That a wrestler? I asked.

Didn’t ask, he said. He obviously needs some more practice.

Show him who’s boss, Craig said.

I plan to, Joss said. Come see me at the Hall of Fear when you’re ready to chat about Brick’s orders. This guy here is going to be helping test it. He reached back and patted his captive on the ass, then sped off.

We explored a bit more of our own proximity, a few blocks from our condo. We found some of the other shops and buildings we hadn’t noticed because of how the Painfather was pulling us toward our own discoveries first. I saw the music shop Levi had been looking for. It looked like there was a transmission tower and radio station connected. Near that was a television studio.

That must be where Victor and his crew work, Max said. There were some nice hotels nearby as well.

I wonder if we’ll draw guys from elsewhere to town for our sports, I said. If we got all the jocks, maybe that will cause some tourism.

It’ll help keep the pretty boys busy, Max said. If you hadn’t noticed, it’s their job to handle any sort of hospitality.

Yeah, they’re all a bunch of whores, Craig said.

We’re all a bunch of whores, I added, and we all laughed.

Yeah, but I guess they’re programmed to feel pleasure and arousal from making other guys happy? Max said. I talked to a couple of them who work in our building now. They’ll help me set up our party and make sure everything goes smoothly.

Nice! I said. And we can beat their asses and fuck them, too?

What do you think I did after our conversation? Max said. We laughed again. I had to remind myself that Max was quite the powerhouse. It was just that Craig, Reuben and I were all even stronger. He was more than capable of forcing any number of men in the city across his knee, not that the pretty boys actually resisted.

Well, I want guys who are tough and strong like you to fill out the rest of our beds, I said. So we can have the pretty boys on hand so prospective new roommates can show off their punishment skills.

What’s going on over there? Craig pointed out one of the large parks nearby. It was surrounded by a mix of vans, jeeps, and even a few larger military trucks. It seemed like there was a lot of activity going on inside the park.

Let’s go take a look, I said. I remembered Levi saying he didn’t like the commandos and also remembered how they forcefully took one of the apartment buildings from them, beating the punks’ asses to make them leave. I parked nearby and we all walked over.

It looked like a fairly large fight had been going on in the park between punks and commandos. There was still some wrestling and fighting going on here and there, but it looked as though the commandos, who were more organized, had outnumbered and outmuscled the punks. And the punks were paying for it with their asses. Everywhere we walked through the park, commandos had punks forced across their knees, locked them down with their legs and an arm twisted behind their backs, and they were all being paddled hard. Some were being punished on the seat of their ripped, tight jeans still, while others had their bottoms bared. Each punk was trying to struggle to escape, but without luck. The bared punks were all crying in pain as their bottoms turned dark red.

Wonder if anybody is going to try anything on us? Craig asked.

Trust me, we can take any of these guys, Max said. He and Craig had both gotten their hands on commandos before. I hadn’t yet, but I was looking forward to it.

Maybe not all of them at once, I said. But the commandos didn’t seem bothered by our presence. One of them nodded us as he walked by, dragging a struggling punk forcefully over to a bench.

They seem to be targeting punks only, Craig said.

We wandered over to a side of the park where there was a long row of benches. There were eight commandos, each with a punk across his knee, paddling him hard in perfect synchronization. Another commando walked up and down the path, barking orders. His military badge on his shoulder was green, gray and black. I remembered him leading the crew of commandos that took over the apartment building near ours. He had black hair like mine, but trimmed short and grey at the temples. He had a sharp nose and pale grey eyes.

You keep control of your punks, the man ordered. You cannot prove your dominance if you cannot actually physically dominate them, men!

Yes, sir! they all barked in unision.

You! He pointed to one of the commandos. When you have a group punishment session like this, how long do you paddle your punks until you pull their pants down?

Sir! We paddle the punks on their jeans until all of them are crying, sir! He barked back. Only then do we pull their jeans down and punish their lazy bare bottoms, sir!

Correct, son! The commando said as he wandered back and forth, watching them at work.

And once they’re bared, how long are they to be punished? the leader asked.

Sir, until we are ordered to stop by our commander, sir! he responded.

Hey, I recognize that ass, I said, pointing to one of the punks being paddled. Looks like they got their hands on Levi. Levi was squirming like he had with me, but there was a definite angry edge this time. He did not like being paddled by commandos, but there was nothing he could do about it. He looked over and saw me.

Get me away from these assholes, Aaron! He begged. I’ll let you do whatever you want instead.

What if I want to beat you even harder than these guys? I asked, folding my arms.

Come on, please? I shook my head no.

You know how we golden boys feel about losing, I said. If you can’t beat these guys, you deserve what you get.

Look sharp, gentlemen, the lead commando barked. We have visitors. The men stiffened their backs as they continued paddling the punks. He saluted at us and then asked, What can I do for our fine golden boys today? We all looked at each other briefly.

So, uh, what’s up? Craig finally asked.

The leader pointed at one of the other commandos with the paddle in his hand. Private Morgan. Why are you paddling these punks?

To put them in their place, sir!

And where is that place, soldier?

Across our knees, sir!

That doesn’t actually explain anything, Craig said. It sure is hot though. The leader actually smirked just a bit in response.

Private Morgan, he said. Who is our patron?

Rex, the Conquerer, sir!

Who is the patron of the punks?

He is named Bullet, sir! Leader of these lazy troublemakers!

What is the relationship between Rex and Bullet, soldier?

They are mortal enemies, sir! The Painfather created them in opposition to each other. We, serving Rex, seek to enforce an orderly, functional structure where everybody knows his place. Bullet and his punks just want to stir up trouble, fool around and sow chaos in the streets.

And what do we intend to do about it, commandos?

Punish them until they submit to our authority!

Can I ask your name, since you seem to be in charge? I said.

I am Commander Grady, he said, snapping another salute. I lead all the men in this squad here in the park.

How did you get that rank? Max asked. Grady pointed to his badge in response.

Our color combinations determine our rank, he said. All commandos are dominant over those of lower rank and submit to those of higher rank.

So all these commandos will submit to you voluntarily? I asked.

Wait, sirs, and you will see, he said. The paddling continued on as he walked back and forth, watching the men and their punk victims.

Seems like an order versus chaos kind of fight, Craig said.

So these guys are going to be after each others’ asses all the time? I said. Hot, but it seems a little one-sided right now. The commandos are more organized.

Do you care? Max asked.

Not really, I said. But I do wonder what happens if the commandos win. Reuben suggested they want everybody to submit to him.

He may have been trying to intimidate us or something, Craig said.

Something was happening with the squad.

Squad! All but one punk is crying! Grady ordered. Somebody is letting the squad down. Raise your hand, soldier! A muscular black soldier raised his hand with his paddle in it.

I am the weak link, sir! He barked. I have failed to dominate my punk quickly and efficiently.

And what happens to the weak link, Private?

He is to be punished in place of the punk!

Grady pulled the punk off the soldier, and he stumbled up to his feet.

It’s your lucky day, punk, he said. Get your lazy ass out of this park and never come back.

The punk started backing away, clutching his sore bottom. Then he flipped both middle fingers at Grady and yelled Fuck you! I’m coming back with more of us and we’re going to fucking take you down! Grady angrily took three steps toward the punk, causing him to turn on his heels and run away. Grady just stood there and watched him run. As he approached the edge of the park, a couple of commandos burst out from behind some trees and tackled him and he went back down.

Guess it wasn’t his luck day after all, Grady noted. Private Jackson, relinquish your seat. The soldier stood up and saluted. Commander Grady took his spot on the bench.

Private Jackson, submit to discipline.

Yes sir! Jackson voluntarily positioned himself across Commander Grady’s lap, raising his camouflage-clad bottom up in the air to accept punishment. Without saying a word, Grady began paddling his own man, quickly synchronizing the swats with those of the other soldiers.

Unfortunately, Grady noted, This means the other punks will be taking quite a few more swats before your squad will be able to enjoy indulging themselves beating their bare behinds, Private Jackson.

Yes, sir! I’m sorry, sir!

Don’t apologize to me, son. Apologize to them. They were looking forward to getting their hands on these punks’ asses and now they have to wait until I make you cry. And we all know how tough this ass of yours is.

I’m sorry, squad!

Tonight, I expect you to do whatever it takes to make sure the rest of your squad goes to sleep happy. You make sure any leftover urges they have are satisfied, am I clear?

Sir, yes sir!

Squad, increase punishment speed to level five! Grady barked. Suddenly the paddling sped up noticeably, while still maintaining synchronization. The punks, including Levi, will all bawling now, and they hadn’t even had their asses bared yet. They were in for a long afternoon, maybe evening.

Do our visitors have any other questions? Grady asked.

Are we on your list of targets? I asked.

That is classified information, gentlemen.

I took that as a yes. My loins stirred just a little bit at the idea of fighting with the commandos for dominance. I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on Grady himself.

Private Morgan, Grady said. What do we know of our guests here?

They are golden boys, sir!

And what does that mean, son?

The golden boys have been blessed by the Painfather and Patron Derek to be physically stronger than all the other men. The average golden boy is twenty percent physically stronger than the average commando. Commandos are strongly discouraged from attempting to dominate a golden boy on his own. Those who do and lose are expected to take their losses like men and accept punishment and rape at the hands of the victor.

And what if we initiate the encounter? I asked.

Good question, gladiator! Grady said. Ah, he knew. Private?

All commandos are expected to fight back to the best of their ability, as with every other encounter. Should the commando lose and is unable to escape, he is again expected to accept his punishment.

And then? Grady asked.

He is to return to his commanding officer and fill out an incident report. The commanding officer will determine whether to organize a squad to organize retaliatory discipline to preserve the dominance of the commandos.

I grinned.

How often will the commanding officer authorize retaliation?

That is classified information.

I grinned again. I memorized the appearance of the commando punishing Levi. I wasn’t going to rescue Levi, but it might be fun to start some shit up with the soldier who tormented him.

Some of your men have gold has their second color, I said. We were told those guys help provide services for the golden boys.

That is correct, sir, Grady said. Gold commandos are security specialists. They will be on hand at athletic events to help keep fans in order. Anybody attempting to disrupt your events will end up in our custody. I nodded.

You may or may not have noticed that gold is a very popular third color among the commandos, Grady said. Many of our men will look forward to watching your bouts of dominance, and you should expect to see them well-represented in your fan clubs.

I see Private Jackson there is a fan, I noticed. His colors were green, blue and then gold.

I expect Private Jackson is very excited to be in the company of a couple of gladiators and would say so if he weren’t about to burst into tears, Grady said.

Sure enough, Private Jackson finally caved in and began to cry, but as quietly as he possibly could.

I’m sorry sir, he said. I deserve this, sir!

Indeed you do, Grady said. Squad, pants down.

The men wrestled with their punk victims to force their jeans down. I laughed a little to watch Levi struggle. Private Jackson, of course, obediently dropped his pants and boxer briefs himself. Soon, eight round sets of cheeks were raised back up in the air forcefully.

Squad, continue at Level 5, Grady ordered. The paddling began again and the victims were much more vocal about the pain being inflicted on their bare bottoms.

We watched the paddling go on for a while. The punks, between cries of pain, spat profanities at the commandos and promised retaliation. The commandos didn’t respond.

Private Morgan, Grady barked. What will happen when this punishment is completed?

Each punk will be required to sexual satisfy each commando in the direct proximity to reinforce his submissive relationship. He will then be allowed to leave with the warning that future resistance against the Green Army will lead to harsher and harsher punishment, possibly leading to long-term imprisonment.

Imprisonment? Max asked.

The Painfather has seen fit to provide our patron Rex with prisons, yes, Commando Grady said. All of our eyebrows shot up. We, of course, hope we will have to use it as little as possible.

Ah, that was the long-term strategy then. Threatening to beat golden boys’ asses to get them to submit would accomplish nothing. We beat each others’ asses every day. I suspected punks were not going to relent quickly either. They seem designed to bounce back from punishment pretty quickly. But threatening long-term confinement was something else entirely. I was very curious to see what the future held with Commander Grady.

But we had spent enough time here.

Well, thanks for the conversation, commander, I said. And of course, the view. Go extra hard on Levi, there.

Hey! he shouted.

Suck it up, I shouted back. And come see me if you want something productive to do!

Fuck you! He whimpered and bucked helplessly on the lap of the soldier.

Commander Grady give me a quick nod, not breaking his stride paddling Private Jackson and we wandered on through the park.

We took a quick trip through the center of the park, where we saw how the punks would be treated following the punishment. It was a forced orgy, dozens of punks bent over fences being fucked in their dark red asses or on their hands and knees sucking soldier cock. As one soldier came in the ass or mouth of the punk, he would step back and another soldier would take his place. They were going to be raped for hours before the soldiers were all satisfied.

Damn, and I thought getting fucked by both you and Craig was rough, Max said.

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