New MMSA spank logo

Aaron's Game
Chapter 18: The Pain Pigs

by Redspkscott

Go to the contents page for this series.

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: 19 Mar 2017

Aaron’s Game – Chapter Eighteen: The Pain Pigs

We limped all the way home and crashed into bed (I dragged Max into mine as usual). Many of the other guys had games to play the next day. Reuben, Craig and I still had one more day to recover for our next bouts.

I woke up in the morning, extremely horny from the warm buzz of the blistering Joss gave my ass. I mounted a still-sleeping Max and fucked him awake. He moaned and raised his beefy butt up (his was still pretty red, too) in submission.

After the game it’ll be time to pay the rent again, I growled at him as I nibbled on an earlobe. He nodded his head as I reamed him out with my cock. Eventually I came, and it felt amazing after a full night of torment.

Bet you’re horny, too, I added. We could grapple Will or Rodney together and I could hold one of them down for you to fuck.

No, coach wants us to not fuck on game days, Max said. He says it makes us more hungry for a win. I’ll get to dump a big load in some lineman’s sweet ass after I strap it raw.

Last time Max played, I was stuck watching it while being trapped and punished in one of the Joss’s paddling machines because I had lost my gladiator match. This time I’d get to watch it from the bleachers with the others.

I looked over through the glass walls into the room next to mine. It was Max’s, so the bed was empty.

I’m taking your room, I said.

What? Max asked, rousing himself after sex. What for?

We’ll share the room, I said. Share the bed. We do it now anyway. I’ll add it on the list of work for Abel. Have him take down the wall and combine the space.

Ok, Max said as he headed over to the showers. I climbed out of bed and joined him. Max wasn’t a big talker but seemed to have a good attitude about being dominated by me all the time. He definitely enjoyed getting fucked. I don’t know if it would be accurate to say he enjoyed getting his ass blistered very frequently, but he definitely seemed to have embraced it. I know I was really rough on him the when I first broke him in, but he seemed to have quickly adapted to having a constantly red bottom, thanks to not just me, but also sadistic Coach Adam.

Now that the pre-season was well underway, all the other sports teams had settled in to their own little stadiums that dotted the city. They were all over the place, emphasizing that the golden boys were the dominant faction of the city. The Pain Pigs were playing at a stadium just a few blocks away, the same place where Rodney’s rugby team (which still hadn’t figured out a name) competed.

Reuben asserted his pre-match dominance on Rico and Jeffrey by finger-fucking both of them in the showers. All of our asses were still heavily reddened from yesterday’s torment at the Hall of Fear. Rico, Jeffrey, and Max were going to have a stinging butt even before Coach Max got his hands on them for their pre-game warm up.

We headed out to the stadium and found some prime seats on the 50-yard line to watch all the action. We were close enough to see the Pain Pigs (including Max, Jeffrey, and Rico) on the sidelines and see the state of their butts through their sheer white uniform pants. After a few minutes of stretching, Coach Adam ordered them all to line-up facing the home crowd and assume the three-point stance. I wasn’t kidding about the warm up. Adam and his assistant coaches went down the lines, taking big, thick paddles to the upturned asses of each player on the team. The Pain Pigs were expected to hold steady, keep those butts up, and not react to the pain.

Impressive, I said.

Yeah, it looks like some of these football teams want to give us gladiators a run for our money when it comes to embracing punishment, Reuben said. But so far nobody has taken to it like the Pain Pigs. Watch the kind of crowd that arrives to cheer them on.

I turned around on my bench and watched the guys filing in to watch the game. There was a bit of a mix, but one faction seemed to dominate the crowd: Blue-collar boys. I saw a lot of guys in blue overalls. The patches on their backs all had gold as one of their secondary colors. Abel even came to watch, along with the other blue-collar boys from our building, with the permission of their boss, Marcus, who had come as well.

Huh, blue-collars, I said. It makes sense. The Pain Pigs kind of act like blue-collar boys on the field.

Yup, that’s deliberate, Reuben said. Coach Adam said he’s gonna treat them just like blue-collar boys. After all, they all have blue as secondary colors.

So this pre-game warm-up made a certain sense, especially if you were a brute like Coach Adam. Blue-collar boys are supposed to be disciplined extremely regularly in order to make them work more efficiently and safely. The pain made them focus better. Adam beating all the Pain Pigs’ beefy butts prior to the game was for the same reason. I wondered if it would actually have the same effect. I watched as Coach Adam himself lined up behind Max and start wailing away on Max’s ass. Max stared forward, furrowed his brow, and grimaced, but held steady and didn’t even so much as flinch at each swat. I started getting a little turned on just from watching him.

They were facing a team called the Northside Bullies. They, apparently, did not hold the Pain Pigs’ training methods in much esteem. In a pre-game interview with some announcers, their head coach said football teams are supposed to be dishing out the punishment, not taking it. He figured the Pain Pigs were going to be too sore to put up much of a fight, and his team would be happy to blister their asses even more once they won.

When the game started, the cameras often lingered on the Pain Pigs’ butts as they lined up for scrimmage. We could all plainly see that their asses were nice and crimson through the sheer white spandex pants. But the opposing coach’s prediction was completely off. The Pain Pigs stormed the field, knocking down the Bullies left and right. The punishment made them tough.

Max’s position was middle linebacker, and he clearly led the defense on the field. When the Pain Pigs were on the offense, Max stood on the sidelines in perfect three-point stance, ass up. The defense coaches had clipboards and would call over teammates to line up next to Max for swats. They did not wait until half-time or after the game to discipline for poor plays or penalties. They were punished as soon as possible. And because Max was the defense captain, he shared each of his teammate’s swats. He was paddled before the game, and he was paddled during the game. I began to wonder what Adam would do to the Pain Pigs if they actually lost the game.

When Max was actually on the field, he was replaced on the sidelines by the offensive captain. It turned out it was the team’s center, not the quarterback. I actually recognized the guy. He had dark hair like me and Max, and pretty much the exact same beefy build and large bubble butt as Max. But he had scruffy facial hair and a bit of a mean expression rather than a friendly one. He was the guy who led the hazing squad who beat my ass down in the basement after losing my first official gladiator match. Like Max, he bent over in the perfect three-point stance, getting his ass paddled along with his teammates for any mistake.

Who is that guy? I asked to Reuben.

That’s Dominic, Reuben said. They call him Dom.

The Pain Pigs joke about him being Max’s evil twin, Craig said. I noticed he had the exact same color combination as Max: Gold, blue, and gray.

Yeah, he’s very aggressive, Reuben said, even though he gets his ass beat as much as Max does. He came up with the hazing squad idea. Group punishment is his whole thing, I think. He loves it when one guy gets his ass tormented by several guys at once. Even if it’s him.

Yeah, if the Pain Pigs lose, us wrestlers are supposed to band up and take over the hazing that week, Will said. He specifically told us, Show my sorry ass no mercy.

Rico’s on the offensive line, I pointed out. Does that mean Dom beats Rico’s ass, too?

Yup, Reuben said. But we double-team him. Reuben wouldn’t want anybody else being too dominant over his boys.

Coach Adam’s tactics appeared to succeed again. The Pain Pigs steamrolled the Northside Bullies, winning 35-10. Max, again, picked out his victim, the opposing team’s middle linebacker, and dragged him over so that the two of them were right in front of us on the field to watch. He bent the guy over and beat his ass good and raw with his thick strop, first on the seat of his uniform, and eventually bare ass. The real yelling, though, happened when Max pulled down his own pants and pushed the guy down onto the grass. Max’s massive hard dick flopped out and caused the guy’s red eyes to widen and for him to shake his head in fear. But he had lost, and regardless of how much he hated it, his ass was raised up in submission. He could not resist as Max climbed on top of him and pushed his gigantic cock, roughly, up his quivering ass. The guy hollered and beat the ground with one fist as Max fucked him good and hard.

In the meantime, Adam and his fellow coaches took great pleasure in ordering the coaches of the opposing team to line up in the center field and assume the three-point stance. For a good 30 minutes the coaches learned what it felt like to be a member of the Pain Pigs. Adam beat each opposing coach’s ass good and bruised. They pulled the coach’s tight-fitting dress pants down and beat their bare asses, too. Then each coach lined up behind their adversaries and fucked them while forcing them to remain in that three-point stance position. Just like with the actual football players, losing coaches had to submit to the winners.

A little later, after all the punishment had concluded, Max, Jeffrey, and Rico came back to rejoin us. I congratulated Max with a good, hard swat on the ass. He grinned and didn’t even flinch. At this point my crew and Reuben’s crew needed to split up. The timing of the wrestling and rugby matches collided with the baseball and soccer matches.

Craig, Max, Rodney, and I headed over to the gymnasium where Lance and Will would wrestle. Then we would come back to this field to watch Rodney’s rugby team play. I hadn’t had the chance to see any of them in action at all yet.

Care to wager on our guys? Craig asked. Craig was Lance’s landlord. I was Will’s. The two wrestlers were also rivals to each other, much like myself and Reuben.

But they aren’t competing against each other today, I pointed out. What if they both win? Or lose?

Whoever scores the most points, Craig said.

What’s the bet? I asked. I mean, we beat each other’s asses every single day sparring.

Good point, Craig said.

Dom wants to incorporate hazing into our parties, Max said. A big hazing orgy. Winners torment the losers. We are having a party tonight, right?

Loser gets tossed in with the other hazing victims? Craig suggested.

Ouch, my ass is still sore from yesterday, I said. And we have our own matches tomorrow. Craig just grinned at me. Our lives as gladiators were supposed to be rough.

Agreed! I said and shook his hand.

The wrestling matches were interesting to watch because they and we gladiators used similar fighting techniques. But there was no spanking during the match. Wrestlers scored points by forcing their opponents into various holds and throws. The punishment was all saved for the winner at the end.

You ever thought about what might happen if Will or Lance actually beat you guys? Rodney asked. They’re pretty good wrestlers.

We like the challenges, Craig said. There’s no point in competing if there’s no possibility of losing.

If Will, Rodney and Max were able to outwrestle me and force me to submit, or if Lance were able to do the same to Craig, our roles would reverse and we would have to accept punishment and cock from the winner for a month before we could fight for dominance again. As we watched Lance and Will, it was clear Rodney was correct. The more they practiced their wrestling, the tougher the fight would be when it came time to pay the rent.

Will steamrolled his opponent, but Lance struggled and lost. In the wrestling matches, the winners dragged the losers off to the side to paddle and rape while other matches continued on, so we got to watch torment and competition at the same time. Will blistered his opponent’s ass for a good 10 minutes, then physically ripped the seat of his singlet to paddle his quivering muscle-bottom for another 15 minutes. Then Will pulled down his own singlet so he could fuck the crying, squirming loser. The reverse happened to poor Lance. Blond Lance had those ruddy cheeks that teased that his whole face would turn red quickly when he was upset. Sure enough, soon it wasn’t clear whether Lance’s face or ass was a darker shade of red.

You’ll be joining Lance with the other losers tonight, I said. Craig just shrugged.

Next time! he warned.

Eventually, Will and Lance rejoined us. Will was grinning. Lance’s face and ass were equally dark red, and with the seat of his singlet torn out, he had no choice but to expose his punishment to everybody until he could return back home and replace it. But first we were going to see Rodney play rugby.

Aww, poor Lance, Rodney said, mocking. Don’t worry, Craig will be joining you in the hazing.

Don’t get too uppity, I said to Rodney. You haven’t had your game yet. You may end up getting it even worse.

We headed back to the stadium where the Pain Pigs played. The sun was setting as Rodney joined his team on the field. The announcers made a big deal about the fact that the team was still very disorganized and hadn’t worked out a name yet. Their opponents were simply called The Wedgers.

The crowd was dominated by punks, with their tattoos, crazy hair, and tight, ripped jeans. For them, this was a chance to get away from being tormented by the commandos. The commandos did not appear to be offering their guard services to the rugby players as they did the other games. All rugby players had orange (the punks’ color) as one of their secondary colors, and they were no fans of the commandos.

Hey, you jerks! Way to take up the best seats! It was Levi, coming to join us to watch the game. He was very happy Rodney was part of our household as a representative of the sport the punks loved the most.

What, no Reuben? he asked. Good. That guy’s an asshole. Reuben shared the commandos’ green as a secondary color and was not fond of the punks. And since Levi was also a fan of both me and Rodney, that just marked him as another target for Reuben’s blistering paddle.

We’re having another party tonight, Max said as Levi sat down next to me. You guys want to DJ again?

Same payment per the usual? Levi asked.

Three commandos for you and your buddies to abuse? Max asked. Levi nodded. You got it, Max said.
Commandos still after your sweet ass? I asked.

Every fucking day, Levi growled. No mercy at all. Not even a grace period once they get us. My buddy, Rennie, got his ass blistered five times in one day. And fucked god knows how many times, since those guys are always in groups.

Hmm, let’s take a look, I said. I grabbed him to drag him over my knee. We still got some time before the game starts.

Goddammit! Levi said. He resisted, but of course I was stronger. No punk could stand up to a gladiator. But I loved that he struggled. Punks seemed to be the opposite of golden boys in that respect. Levi would never surrender his ass and would squirm throughout his whole punishment. I kind of liked that. It was a different experience.

Sure enough, I could see through the tears in the seat of his jeans that his ass was already a nice, dark red. I touched it and it was warm.

That was about an hour ago, Levi muttered. Four of the bastards got me near the beach.

Guess what—I don’t care, I said, grinning. I raised my paddle and slammed it right on the center of his ass on the seat of his jeans. He yelped and bucked, but could not escape my clutches. I paddled him for a good ten minutes on his jeans, wrapping my right leg over his to keep him from kicking too much. Once I got him bawling, I wrestled his jeans down (he fought me the whole time) and raised blisters on his already raw bottom. He cried and yelled, and amusingly, cussed up a storm, as he was punished. But he also had an erection rubbing against the inside of my thigh. He and I shared two colors—gold and purple—and that meant his rebellious nature c