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Aaron's Game
Chapter 15: The Hazing Squad

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: 12 Feb 2017


Aaron’s Game – Chapter Fifteen: The Hazing Squad

I woke up with my ass still stinging and my cock rock-hard. I wanted to go fuck Max immediately, but then I remembered Reuben had forced me into his bedroom. He was already awake, and once he saw me starting to stir he jumped back onto the bed and pushed my head into the pillow.

Not done with that ass yet, loser, Reuben growled. He roughly shoved some fingers up my ass with his free hand, unlubed, and thrust away as I moaned in pain into the pillow. After a few minutes of tormenting me this way, he lubed up his dick and forcefully fucked me again, hard enough to make me bounce up and down on the bed.

I will never get tired of fucking your ass, Reuben said.

Enjoy it while you can, I said.

Someday that perfect ass is going to belong to me, he promised.

Once he had his way with me – a good twenty minutes later – he reluctantly let me go.

I’m not going to be so nice next time, he said. I rolled my eyes at him as I left.

My dick was still rock hard. I found Max in his room, awake, but on his bed on his stomach, ass up, obediently waiting for me.

Enjoy your victory, big boy? I asked him as I began lubing up.

I fucked four different guys just last night, he said. Going without for a while built up a big load. I was spraying like a firehose.

Well it’s been almost two days for me, I pointed out. Let’s see what happens. I mounted his beefy bottom, which he raised up for my use. He moaned as I pushed my way in. I had to force myself to go slow and milk the fuck. I was so hungry for sex I wanted to rush to orgasm just to feel some pleasure, but I kept it slow.

The boys all fuck you after I lost? I asked as I pumped away.

Reuben and Craig tag-teamed my ass with their paddles, Max said between moans. Then Lance, Rico and Jeffrey took turns fucking me.

Reuben and Craig didn’t?

They bent over Will and Rodney and fucked them good and hard.

You boys fought back, though.

Fuck yeah, Max said. We might have been able to hold off Reuben’s boys if Craig and Lance hadn’t joined in.

I pushed my cock all the way in now and Max sunk down into the bed, grunting with pleasure.

Bet you missed this,

A little, yeah, he said. Bet you missed it more.

I love having your ass to come home to, even when I lose, I said and began nibbling the back of his neck and his ear. After another ten minutes of this I worked myself into a frenzy of deep thrusts, finally allowing myself to climax. It was a thick, powerful load, filling up his ass and squirting out onto the sheets. We both collapsed onto the bed for a few minutes to recover.

You missed two good victory parties, Max said. We decided we’re going to have one every night whenever anybody in the building wins games. Lots of drinking and partying and fucking around.

We headed into the showers to clean off and Max filled me in on how the rest of the housemates did in their opening matches.

You saw the Pain Pigs win, Max said. Will and Lance both won their opening matches. Hayato’s soccer team won but Johnny and Kyle’s baseball team lost. Rodney’s rugby team lost too. They were a real disorganized mess. Kind of funny, really.

They get good and tormented? I asked.

I’ll let you see Johnny and Kyle for yourself, he said. Rodney is, well, kind of missing. His whole team is.

What?

After the match, there was a big punishment and rape orgy, just like us football players, Max said. But when it was over, the punk fans of the other team crashed the field and dragged off all the guys on Rodney’s team. They’re out there being tormented by punks! The coaches are trying to track them down. They had to go hire some hunters to help them.

That sounds hot! I said. I didn’t know the punks had that in them.

The punishment is showing up now and then on the punks’ television channel, but they’re having a hard time trying to figure out where they’ve got them kidnapped. We watched it for a bit last night and saw Rodney all tied up, getting handed around from punk to punk to be punished.

Did that happen to any of the other losing rugby teams?

Yup! Max said, laughing. At least it’s keeping the punks off the street and away from the commandos.

We got dressed, and Max urged me to head out to the patio and pool. I could see through our glass walls there were plenty of guys out there, including a couple I didn’t recognize. As I walked through the penthouse, I passed Trip gathering the cum-soaked sheets from Max’s and Reuben’s beds to wash. I smacked him firmly on his bare bottom as I walked by.

Out on the patio, all the other housemates were gathered, except for the missing Rodney. There was also a beefy black executive in a tight-fitting suit. His tie colors were grey, gold and blue. Standing next to him was a giant, blond, musclestud blue-collar worker. His colors were blue, gold and pink. His tight denim overalls had the drop-seat feature, so his ass could easily be exposed for punishment. His overalls also cut off mid thigh and exposed his powerful, muscular legs. He looked like a wrestler wearing a denim singlet.

After I took in the two of them, I couldn’t help notice poor Johnny and Kyle next. It looked like the two of them were still suffering punishment for losing their game. They were tied bent over the balcony. Their asses were up in the air, and they were each a deep red from beatings. But as an added punishment, each of them had a baseball bat forcefully shoved halfway up his ass. Somebody had taken two pillowcases, wrote LOSER on them in black marker, and tied them onto the handles of the baseball bats. You could see their stretched rectums quivering in pain and trying to push out the bats, but they were lodged in nice and tight.

Everybody say hello to the worst gladiator in the city right now, Craig cheerfully said as I joined them on the patio. I just held my hands up in admission of my failure. There wasn’t much I could say in my defense. Nobody else lost as badly as I did.

You haven’t met Markus yet, have you? Max asked, gesturing to the executive. You and Craig have been too busy. Markus offered his hand and I shook it.

I’m the building manager, he explained. Good to finally meet you. You had already claimed the penthouse long before I got here, which believe me, actually made my life easier. Other buildings had all sorts of fights over who got the top floor. With you gladiators up here, I didn’t even have to try to figure out that mess. I laughed.

Are Trip and Lenny working out for you guys? he asked. Everybody registered their approval. I still fondly recalled the rimjobs they gave out. I planned to demand one as a reward the next time I won.

Good, the two of them are now exclusive to the penthouse, Markus said. Use them as you see fit. That’s what the Painfather made them for. My other boys will service the rest of the building. Don’t worry, I’ve got 25 of them working here.

Who’s this big guy? I asked, pointing to the big blue collar. What are you, six-foot-five?

Six-foot-seven, he said. Though he was physically huge, his voice sounded oddly gentle. My name is Abel. I shook his hand as well. I noticed he had odd scars all over his body. He was the second guy I had met with visible scars, even though none of us could be wounded. The Painfather really worked to provide some variety of appearances. There were plenty of muscular men with short blond hair, like Lance, sitting right nearby, but you’d never confuse the two of them.

Apparently last night’s party got a little too fun, Markus said. He pointed to some deck chairs that must have gotten busted in the horseplay Max mentioned earlier. I thought this was the perfect time to introduce you to Abel. If you like him, I’ll make him your exclusive blue collar, just like I did with Trip and Lenny.

Exclusive to us? Craig said, brightening up even further. Craig seemed to have a fondness for blue collars. He walked over to Abel, reached down to the drop seat of his overalls and tugged until it popped open and flopped down. He had a nice, round muscular bottom, possibly even bigger than Max’s. Abel looked over his shoulder at him with a polite smile. He didn’t seem at all bothered at Craig’s aggressiveness. His ass was a nice bright red from recent punishment, but not nearly as dark as Johnny’s or Kyle’s (or probably mine).

Now that’s an ass, Max noted.

You jealous? I asked.

Maybe a little, he said.

I picked Abel here for you guys for a reason, Markus said. You all probably know that blue collars are supposed to be punished on the regular to make them work better, right? We all nodded. I beat Abel’s ass here for a good half an hour when he came in for work and he’s already recovering. Abel’s my toughest blue collar. And I’ve got a dozen of them to deal with in addition to the pretty boys. I don’ t have the time to spend beating his ass the way he needs to make sure he’s working as hard as he can.

I need a lot more punishment than I’m getting, Abel said, a little sheepishly. I keep accidentally breaking things I’m supposed to be fixing.

I thought about getting some spanking tubes, Markus said, but that felt like a waste when I’ve got a building full of jocks always looking to beat some ass. I figured I got three gladiators on the top floor. If there’s anybody who could keep Abel’s ass good and red, it would be you guys. And he can help you turn the penthouse into a perfect party palace.

We need to build a bar to help Lenny and Trip serve the parties, Lance pointed out.

And we can build a little platform or something for the punk DJs, Will added.

Abel can do that for you, no problem, Markus said. But you need to keep his ass good and sore. I’m not kidding. I’m talking sore enough that he can’t sit down.

Oh, no, another ass to beat! Craig said with mock despair, even dramatically pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. Just kidding. Let’s blister his ass. He grabbed Abel around his waist and threw him over a shoulder and headed over to a tall bar stool. Oof, he’s heavy, Craig noted.

Wow, you boys really are strong, Markus said. I didn’t think anybody could pick Abel up.

We can use him for weight training, Craig joked. See how many times we can bench press him. He sat down on the bar stool and put Abel across his knees. Even though the bar stool was tall, Abel’s feet and forearms easily rested on the ground. Abel also obediently went along with the whole thing, offering absolutely no resistance. Once Craig got him into position, he raised his bared bottom up in acceptance of Craig’s punishment. Craig quickly got down the business, slamming his paddle across Abel’s massive cheeks. Though Abel’s ass bounced around with the swats, the rest of his body obediently held position. He didn’t even move his head – just stared quietly forward, submitting 100 percent to Craig’s discipline.

Well then, I’ll leave you guys to get to know Abel better and to give him your orders, Markus said. One more thing though. I know how you boys love to fuck.

Who doesn’t? Reuben asked. Everybody laughed.

As far as Abel goes, and as far as blue collars go, they treat sex as a reward. They love to be fucked, but they want to earn it. So if you can manage it, don’t fuck Abel unless he’s completed a task. Rape as a form of punishment or to show dominance doesn’t work on blue collars. You can’t rape a blue collar any more than you can rape a pretty boy.

That true, Abel? Craig asked between swats.

Yes sir, Abel said. He wasn’t yet showing any outward sign that Craig’s harsh paddling was getting to him yet. Sex is like a tip or a reward for a job well done.

And if he even so much as drops as screwdriver, that means it’s time for another ass-beating, Markus said. Trust me on this. Punish every single mistake.

With that information, Markus wished us all well and headed back to the elevator, leaving us to watch Craig beat Abel’s ass.

Ass bounces nice, just like ours, Craig noted. Submits just like us when we lose. Except I don’t have to go through the effort to force him.

I kind of like the forcing part, Reuben said. We all nodded. That was one of the best part of being a golden boy – the fight for control.

Abel wasn’t whimpering or complaining about the ongoing, intense punishment. His ass was turning a darker shade of red but there was no sign that Abel was feeling too much pain.

Wow, I can see what Markus meant, Craig said between swats. I can’t spend all day on Abel’s ass, though, much as I want to. After all, Aaron and I have to spar again.

Crap. I had forgotten about our training. A day of complete suffering will do that to you. But despite my still-blistered ass, I knew that I couldn’t say no to Craig. After all, I lost. I needed to step it up. Our next round of pre-season matches was tomorrow. I couldn’t lose again. It would be absolutely humiliating.

Lance, grab my goodie bag, Craig said. Lance headed into the penthouse and returned with Craig’s evil tools of torment from his pranks shop. He stopped paddling and pulled out his now-infamous fire oil. Abel continued to look forward with his red ass up and submissive. His eyes had started to look a little red, like crying was a possibility in the future, but he was still taking Craig’s beating fairly well.

Craig carefully dripped the fire oil into Abel’s asscrack and we all waited for the reaction. Much to our surprise, he did not start wailing out in extreme pain the way any of us did when it was used on us. He gave out a surprised OH! when the intense pain started to kick in and his asshole began to burn. He bucked just once, then grimaced and began to cry. And then he returned to his submissive position, raising his ass back up into the air.

Wow, Craig said. He’s the first guy who has taken it this well. Does it even hurt?

Yes, sir, Abel said. It hurts a lot. This is the most pain I’ve felt so far since the Painfather made me.

And yet you’re just laying there, Craig said.

I am supposed to feel pain, Craig said. Punishment makes me work better. So I will do my best to accept it.

This stuff lasts for hours, I noted.

It makes my mind focus, Abel said.

Really? Craig said. Get up. Abel did as he was told.

Think this pain will help you work?

Yes sir, Abel said, nodding.

I think I like how this is going to work out, Craig said. Lance, if I’m not around, you’re to make sure that the fire oil on Abel’s ass is refreshed every three hours as long as he’s working up here.

And let’s not forget to keep his ass good and red, Reuben said to the other guys. Craig, Aaron and I get dibs on that ass if we want it. But otherwise, the rest of you guys have to step up and keep that big butt blistered.

I don’t think we’re going to see that as much of a chore, Will joked.

As Abel went to work repairing the broken furniture, with his seat flap down to show off his red ass, Craig and I headed back down to the beach to spar again.

Man the analysts on the shows were giving you some shit while you were stuck in the spanking machine, Craig said on the elevator. The polls ranked you as Most Deserving of His Punishment.

Can’t dispute that, I said. Wait until you lose a real match. I felt the way Abel was just acting. I really felt like I deserved that beating.

The fan clubs have been activated, by the way, Craig said. Your boys and Reuben’s boys have been fighting over the match, busting each other’s asses and stuff. I hear they’ve even gotten bounties on each other with the hunters. I saw Joss beating a football player that I think was cheering for you at the match.

Once we got to the beach, I wondered how much the fact that my ass was still nice and bruised from my punishment would affect the match. But that was one of the reasons why there was such a short respite between matches. The other jocks had between five days and a week between matches. To reinforce the idea that the gladiators were the toughest fucks on the field, we would be forced to recover quickly and fight while still in pain from our losses. Our lives were intended to be merciless.

So I entered into our sparring match a little warily, but too my surprise the pain didn’t slow me down that much. And it seems as though Craig spent a little too much time celebrating and not enough training in my painful absence. I beat him three-to-one and blistered his ass good and raw, again using his own itching powder against him.

Looks like I shouldn’t be the only one worried about tomorrow’s matches, I said as I slammed away at his quivering ass. He wailed and squirmed and suffered for two long hours as my paddle did good work.

I won’t deny it, I said. I cannot wait to see your ass in that paddling machine. Wanna watch those cheeks bounce! But we had to give our presentation to the gladiator council after the next set of matches, so I was hoping he’d win tomorrow, first. After that, though, I wanted to see his ass upturned.

Oh, yeah, Craig said between yelps of pain. You and Reuben should be worried about what’s going to happen if both of you lose and I show up there when you guys are done with your punishments.

Oh, really? I asked. Reuben and I had already established our routines. Reuben finger-fucked us in a brutal walk home, whereas I rode him back like a pony, flogging his ass along the way. Apparently Craig had been plotting his own surprise.

Just wait, Craig promised.

I grinned and shrugged and left Craig on the beach to rub his blistered backside and recover from the fight. I swaggered back to the apartments feeling a little better about tomorrow’s fight. I was going to be facing a guy who had also lost his first match. If I could still take down Craig, despite my suffering, maybe I wouldn’t be in such bad shape. Maybe Reuben would lose and I could ride his ass home after he suffered for a day in the paddling machines?

I started getting a little hard thinking about Reuben losing as I stepped into the elevator. I barely noticed that a small pack of wrestlers and football players joined me. I pressed the button to the penthouse, and after the doors closed I realized none of the other guys pressed any buttons for their floors. It was too early in the day for another party. I looked around and saw them all looking back at me. They all had pretty mean smirks I was familiar with. It was the look of a guy about to have his way with somebody else’s ass.

What’s going on here? I asked. In response, the wrestler next to the panel pressed the emergency stop button on the elevator. I was trapped here with the six of them. Then I noticed each of them were holding hefty, thick paddles, like the kind Max’s coach used on him.

It’s your turn, said one of the football players. They were members of the Pain Pigs with Max. You’re the last guy we haven’t gotten our hands on yet.

What are you talking about? I said, folding my arms. I was in a bit of a pickle, obviously. I could more than handle any one of these guys alone. But all six was going to be a problem.

They didn’t tell you about us? the football player asked, genuinely surprised. Didn’t you see Kyle and Johnny up in your place?

That was you guys? I asked, just as confused. I thought Reuben must have tormented the guys to punish them for losing. It didn’t occur to me that somebody else might have been responsible. Who are you guys?

We’re the hazing squad, said one of the wrestlers. We don’t want no losers in our building, not even gladiators.

Yeah, said one of the football jocks. So we decided we were going to band together and make sure everybody in this building knows we want this apartment to be where winners hang out.

Win or suffer, I muttered. A wrestler nodded and grinned. Then the six of them tackled me. I did the best I could to fight them off, but not only was I outnumbered, I had no space to maneuver. Soon, three of them were holding me down on the floor of the elevator. A football player was sitting on my back.

We got together and decided that any jock in this building that loses gets his ass hazed good and hard, the wrestler said.

I already got my ass blistered for an entire day, I growled at him.

Yeah, that was your punishment from the gladiators for losing, the player sitting on my back said. This is your punishment from the house for losing.

So when you guys lose? I said.

We’ll get hazed, too, he said. If you win, you might get invited to help do it. Cold comfort, but I’d take it.

So what are we going to do with him? a wrestler asked. Drag him back up to the penthouse?

No, the Pain Pig sitting on my back said. Max says an audience turns him on. This is supposed to be punishment. He’s not supposed to like it. Let’s drag him down to the basement and take care of them there. The wrestler next the elevator punched a button sending us back down.

I hadn’t been down to the basement before. There were supply closets and laundry rooms for the blue collars and pretty boys to take care of the building’s needs. The six of them dragged me over to a bench in the supply room. They tied me down to the bench on my stomach with my wrists and ankles bound, my ass up in the air.

Let’s blindfold him, one of the guys suggested. He gets off on watching us watching him, right? Let’s deny him. I struggled helplessly as they wrapped a towel around the top of my head to block my vision.

You’re going to suck each and every one of our cocks while we beat your ass, one of the jocks said. You don’t get to get fucked this time. Eventually getting fucked feels good. This is not going to feel good. Somebody roughly yanked my shorts down to expose my bare ass.

A hand grabbed my head and forced it up. I couldn’t see anything through the towel, but eventually a hard, thick cock was forced in my mouth. I nearly gagged. As I was fruitlessly trying to wiggle my head to refuse to cooperate – WHAM! One of the guys slammed a thick paddle right across my butt, hitting both cheeks good and hard. I tried to yell out in pain, but I was gagged with the cock. Seconds after that paddle was pulled away – WHAM! I was smacked again from the other side. They were going to double-team my ass.

The punishment lasts until you have gotten each of us to come in your mouth and you swallow every drop, said one of the jocks. Spill any and you’ve got to blow that guy off again.

Initially I still refused to cooperate, but after a few minutes it was clear that they were not going to stop blasting my ass until I sucked them off. They were not holding back on swats at all. They might not be as strong as a gladiator, but they were certainly strong enough to torment my still sensitive bottom. Looks like I was going to go into tomorrow’s fight at a disadvantage after all.

I finally began sucking off the dick shoved down my throat. I felt him moan after a few minutes.

Not too fast, he ordered. I want to enjoy having a gladiator suck me off. I rolled my eyes, not that he could see them with the towel over my head. After ten minutes of sucking and getting my ass slammed, I felt his moaning grow louder, after another couple of minutes I felt his cock quiver and then huge squirts of his cum shot into my throat. Remembering their rules, I quickly clamped my mouth around his dick and started swallowing to keep anything from spilling out. It was a struggle.

Yeah, swallow it, loser, he growled at me. Remember this tomorrow when you’re back out on the field. The other guys continued to beat my ass hard as I gulped down the guy’s spunk. After it was over, there was a brief delay, and I heard guys shifting around. Then another cock was shoved down my throat and paddles started slamming against my ass again. They were rotating around so that each of them would get the chance to paddle me as well as get his dick sucked.

That was how I spent my afternoon, in the dark, in vicious pain. On the fourth guy I accidentally coughed out some of his jizz and they were true to their word. After I blew the last two guys they made me blow him again. In the meantime, my ass was getting good and bruised from the paddles. It was a different type of pain from the paddling machines. It wasn’t as sharp as the thinner paddles, but the hard swats left a deep ache in the muscles of my butt. The towel was wet with my tears and I had to concentrate to keep sucking dick during all the torture.

Leave him here, one of the guys said when they were done. Don’t embarrass our building like you did last match. Maybe the next hazing squad will have ten guys, not six. He gave me one last hard swat. I just laid there on the bench as I heard them walk off. I tried to work myself free, but I was still tied up. About thirty minutes later one of the pretty boys doing laundry found me there and untied me. My ass was hot to the touch and deeply bruised. I was going to have a tough fight tomorrow.

Next: The Grand Plan

 
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