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Aaron's Game
Chapter 20: The Brig

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: 15 Apr 2017

Aaron’s Game – Chapter 20: The Brig

Reuben and I wriggled around, stuck and bound on the chaises by the pool, as we heard men yelling and fighting around us. As much as we struggled, we were unable to break free. Trip and Lenny had bound us securely for our rimming sessions last night. Not only were we bound, our asses were perfectly stuck up in the air, resting on pillows and very vulnerable.

Fortunately due to the glass walls in the penthouse, we were able to watch what was going on. There was a large contingent of commandos who had invaded the building, and they were fighting to control all the other jocks who lived up there with us.

The jocks were stronger than the commandos, but the commandos outnumbered them and caught us all by surprise. Plus, Reuben and I were the strongest guys in the building and we were already taken out. And Craig was still over at the arena getting his ass paddled for losing yesterday.

Several of the guys were bound up and were being dragged out to the pool. The loud crash that woke us up was apparently Max, who the best that I could tell, hit a couple of commandos at a full charge, and the massive football player knocked them clean through one of the glass walls, shattering it. He and Pain Pig teammates Rico and Jeffrey were not going down easy.

Use the shock webs, Capt. Cody yelled to them from behind me and Reuben with his distinctive drawl. Neutralize them now before he wrecks the whole place and starts pitching you boys off the roof!

One of the commandos pulled out something that looked like a small gun-shaped cannon with a huge bore hole. He positioned himself behind Max.

Max, behind you! I yelled. But I was too late. The commando fired the gun and a large metallic net shot out and spread, hitting Max right in the ass. It stuck to his backside and we heard him yell out in pain. Then I heard a crackling and sizzling sound.

High intensity heat and electricity, Cody said to us. Ramps up the pain nice and fast and forces a golden boy’s surrender instinct to trigger.

Golden boys naturally resist forced punishment and sex, but our competitive ways give us all a particular flaw. When we lose a sport or a contest or are put in a situation where we’re exposed to ass pain we cannot fight off or escape, our bodies eventually automatically surrender. We stop fighting back and we raise our asses up in acceptance of the punishment. It is completely out of our control. It is part of our psychology that guys who lose are supposed to be both punished and fucked.

Grab his arms, Cody ordered. He’s gonna try to pull it off. Your boy is tough, Aaron.

He’s a Pain Pig, I said. Indeed Max was trying to reach back and pull the vicious electrified netting off, despite the pain, but a gang of commandos surrounded him and pulled his arms away. After a few minutes of struggling, his surrender instinct kicked in. He slumped to the floor and raised his ass up in submission.

Leave the web on, Cody said. He’s one of the three we’re here for. You have Rico and Jeffrey under control?

The commandos had used the shock webs on Rico and Jeffrey as well to similar results. The commandos dragged the three of them out to the deck by the pool. I craned my head over my shoulder to watch Cody and the three Pain Pigs. They were on their hands and knees with their butts up in the air. All three had shock webs stuck to their bottoms, crackling with electricity. Their large backsides quivered in pain.

The three of you have been named by several commandos as having kidnapped them and handing them over to them criminal punk boys to be punished, Cody said. You are doing this as payment for their services as deejays. Am I right?

Yes, Max said, whimpering.

So you confess to your crimes? Cody asked.

What crimes? Rico asked.

We didn’t the chance to warn them, Reuben yelled over to Cody. It wasn’t exactly the truth. We just didn’t really care and didn’t know what they would do.

Ignorance of the law is no excuse, Cody said. But I’ll explain for your benefit before we sentence those quivering butts of y’alls. General Lawrence has declared that it is a crime to harass or detain any commandos for the purposes of handing them over to anybody in the punk faction for punishment or rape.

What? Max asked. Your fight has nothing to do with us.

Yeah, buddy, that’s the point, Cody said. To be clear, if you boys take any commandos down, you can do with us as you please. Beat our asses all you like. Fuck us good and raw. That’s the golden boy way, and we’re willing to accept that and work around it. We kinda have to since there’s so many of you in this town. But you can’t hand them over to punks for punishment. You’re helping the enemy.

What are you going to do with us? Jeffrey asked. This net is blistering my ass!

Good, Cody said with a smirk. We want this experience to be nice and memorable. He looked over to me and Reuben. Is it true you two didn’t tell them about by warning? We both nodded, still tied down to the chaise lounges with our asses in the air. Nobody had made any effort to free us. All the other jocks in the penthouse had their arms cuffed to avoid struggle.

Well, I can’t just excuse you for violating the law, but I can offer some mercy, he said. It’s my job as community liaison to have made sure that you were aware of the law. The formal sentence for violating this law is a week in the Brig.

A week? We’ll miss our next game! Rico said.

What’s the Brig? Max asked.

Because of the circumstances, I will use my judgment to reduce the sentence to 48 hours. Consider yourself lucky. If it happens again, it will, indeed, be a full week. And yes, y’all may very well miss your game if it comes to that.

You didn’t answer my question, Max said.

That’s because y’all will find out in about an hour, Cody said. And your three punk buddies will be joining you. We already have them in custody. Be glad you’re not them. Their sentence is two weeks. Take them out to the trucks. Leave the shock webs on them. These boys are trained to recover fast from their punishments. Don’t want any surprises.

The three of them were force marched inside to the elevator, their asses bouncing and quivering from pain as they walked. I could still hear the sizzling sounds of the shock webs as they passed by us. Max gave me a quick, worried look.

Let Coach Adam know what’s going on, he yelled as he was pushed away.

As for the two of you, Cody said after Max, Rico, and Jeffrey had been escorted out. He looked over our two exposed asses and grinned. Since neither of you are responsible for any kidnappings, you haven’t broken the law, and I can’t bring you in. He nodded at one of his men and said, Strap, please. The man saluted and walked over to a bag of tools that was sitting on the floor off to the side. I hadn’t noticed it until now.

However, it is my role as a community liaison to make sure that other factions understand that we mean business, Cody said. He looked up to various corners of the room. I realized he was taking note of the surveillance cameras being used to film us and televise the happenings of the penthouse on television. We were all the stars of our own little network up here, so whatever he was about to do to us was going to be televised and get out there for anybody to see.

The commando he had spoken to came back to him holding a large, thick strap. My bottom quivered slightly in anticipation. I hadn’t felt any straps or strops since Max used his on me the very first night we met and Reuben had tied me down (in a very similar position, in fact). Straps were not friendly to gladiator fights given the space and freedom they needed to get a good swing. But Reuben and I were now stuck in the exact perfect position for a good strapping. It looked like that is exactly what we were going to get.

Among the troops, failure to properly communicate messages down the chain of command leads to punishment, Cody said. It seems appropriate here. One hundred lashes for each of you. I’ll alternate every 10 lashes.

Neither Reuben nor I said anything to try to talk our way out of it. It didn’t even matter the reason why we were going to get strapped. All that really mattered is that Cody had gotten the upper hand on us. Literally so, in this case. Cody could administer any punishment he wanted to us right now and we would feel as though we deserved it. We were caught out like chumps. We were actually getting off pretty easy. If a hunter had gotten us in this situation we’d face much worse. If I had caught Reuben or if Reuben had caught me in this situation, our asses would have been paying all day long.

Cody looked up at the cameras again and then positioned himself between me and Reuben. He clearly wanted to make sure that the cameras were able to catch each lash.

He rested the strap across my cheeks, preparing for the first set of swats.

You’ve been looking forward to this, I said to him. When we met on the midway of the amusement park the very first time, I caught him checking my ass out when I walked off.

This is business here, boys, he drawled, but he did have an unmistakable smirk. He reared back with the strap and CRACK! Directly across both cheeks right above where my ass connected with my thighs. I winced but avoided shouting. He slowly leveled nine more lashes, positioning carefully up and down my ass, hitting hard across both cheeks each time. I was breathing heavily after the first round, and my bottom continued to quiver a little bit after the set is over.

Then he turned to Reuben for his first set of ten. Reuben took his licks as stoically as he could. I noticed he wasn’t throwing off any attitude. Since he had green as his third color, he was generally a supporter of the commandos and their idea of a chain of command controlling who punished whom. Of course, as a gladiator, it was his goal to make sure he was at the top of said chain, and everybody else was on the receiving end of his paddle.

The 100 lashes for each of us were slowly administered over about 30 minutes. I teared up and yelped a lot, but it didn’t leave me bawling the way Joss or Reuben or even Craig had when they took their paddles to me. We played a lot rougher than the commandos did. Nevertheless, I could feel that my ass was going to be good and raw for the rest of the day.

After it was over he returned the strap to his commando to put away.

If it makes y’all feel any better, Cody said afterward. I’m obligated to inform Commander Grady that I hadn’t rightly made sure the Pain Pigs were warned about the law. That was my job.

He’s gonna tear your ass up, isn’t he? Reuben said.

That he will, Cody said. And I deserve it. Just like the two of you deserved this, am I right? I didn’t respond but Reuben nodded a little bit.

We’ll have your boys back in two days, slightly worse for wear, Cody said. Just like your fancy penthouse here, there is a channel devoted to covering the Brig. Give us about two hours to get your boys settled in and you can tune in to see their discipline. He snapped his fingers and the commandos all fell in line next to him.

And with that, all y’all have a good day, Cody said. Let’s move out, troops! The commandos all marched over to the elevator and they were gone, leaving all us jocks up here alone with a trashed apartment.

Reuben and I were still bound to the pool chairs, and the commandos left without taking the cuffs off all the other jocks, so everybody was a little slow to respond. Will noticed that Trip and Lenny had left the keys to the cuffs they used on me and Reuben on the bar. He grabbed them and came over to unlock us (a challenge because his hands were still cuffed together). Kyle called down to maintenance to have Abel and some of the blue-collar boys come up to free them from their cuffs and check out the damage to the penthouse.

What do we do about our guys? Johnny asked. I think their practice is supposed to start in two hours.

Go find Dom and tell him what happened, Reuben said. Dominic was the team’s offensive captain. Max led the defense, but with him snatched by Cody, that left Dom to take charge for the football team.

Free from the lounge chairs, I started looking over the penthouse to see the damage. It looked like two glass walls were shattered and several chairs and sofas were broken in the struggle. Well, at least it would give Abel and his buddies work to do. And we could keep their bottoms nice and red for it.

I headed into the living room and went rooting around the overturned table to find the remote control. I switched on the television to search for the channel Cody mentioned that covered The Brig. Obviously Max and the others wouldn’t get there for a while, but maybe I could get an idea what to expect.

While I was flipping through channels, Abel came up to the penthouse joined by two other blue-collar workers, as well as Trip and Lenny. Lenny cringed when he saw the mess and apologized for leaving us bound overnight. He thought we would like it. I told him it wasn’t his fault.

Abel used a pair of bolt-cutters to get the other golden boys out of their handcuffs. Trip and Lenny immediately went to work cleaning up broken glass and putting anything that wasn’t broken back where it was supposed to be. The other blue collar boys would work on repairing or replacing anything that was broken.

I finally found the channel for The Brig. Much like the channel for our penthouse, it was primarily live surveillance footage.

Did they show you this place when you visited them? I asked Reuben.

They told us about it, but they didn’t show it off, Reuben said. I think they wanted to keep it a little mysterious until they were ready to start using it. More intimidating that way.

The Brig was, from what we could see on the television, a massive prison. But it didn’t have cells. It had row after row of thick, tall wall structures with holes every couple of feet and attached restraints.

There’s the punks, Reuben said. They must have got them first before coming for us.

Levi and his two friends were being dragged, cuffed, along a catwalk partway up the wall. They were all struggling as hard as they could and yelling up a storm, but the commando guards did not respond. They stopped before one of the holes in the wall. They grabbed Levi and physically picked him up and forced the upper half of his body through the hole, ignoring his resistance. The bottom half of his body remained on this side, his ass facing outward and vulnerable. The restraints were thick leather bands that they wrapped around Levi’s thighs and ankles to keep him from kicking. His bottom half was stuck in a position that was obviously for punishment.

The surveillance image flipped to the other side of the wall. The wall was thick enough to contain Levi’s torso, but his head stuck through the hole onto the other side. Guards made sure that Levi’s arms were restrained inside the wall. His head they allowed to move around freely and look around. They also didn’t gag him, so Levi was trash-talking the commando guards fiercely and demanding to be let go. They ignored him.

The guards then brought the second punk around to the side of the wall where Levi’s head was stuck out. The catwalk, it turned out, could be mechanically raised and lowered. They raised it up to the hole that was directly above Levi’s head. Levi’s buddy was fed through the wall in the other direction. His ass was directly above Levi’s head, and his thighs hung down and framed Levi’s face. They were alternating sides when they were imprisoning the punks. The camera cut back to the other side of the wall. The second punk’s head was about a foot or so above Levi’s ass. He could look down at it.

The third punk was put through on the same side as Levi, into the hole above the second punk. So there was this alternating imprisonment technique.

They’re in a position where they’re going to end up watching what happens to their buddies’ asses, I noticed.

It also keeps them from talking to each other, Reuben said.

After the restraining was done, the commandos roughly tore out the seats of the punks’ already heavily ripped jeans. Their bare bottoms were stuck in place, ready for punishment. But I could also see them trying to struggle against the restraints that they could not possibly escape. Punks were like the opposite of golden boys in that way. They never stopped squirming and struggling when they were punished, even when there was no possibility of escaping.

I waited to see if the guards were going to start beating them, but they just left the punks there for now.

They’re probably going to wait to bring in our boys, Reuben said. Punish them all together.

By that point, Dom arrived up the elevator. His eyes widened a bit when he saw the wreckage.

I contacted Coach Adam and he’s on his way here already, Dom said. He is going to absolutely fry my ass.

Why? I asked. This isn’t your fault.

You’ll see, he said ominously as he glanced over at the television. I told the other Pain Pigs to get out to the field early because the coaching team is going to be in a mood when they find out about this.

Abel came over to us while we waited for Coach Adam to arrive.

We’ve gotten measurements and taken stock of what we need to fix and replace, Abel said. But it’s early and Marcus hasn’t disciplined any of us yet this morning. He turned around and popped open the seat flap for his tight-fitting overalls to show us that his big bubble butt was completely unmarked. And that would be a problem. Blue collar boys need to get their asses busted regularly to keep them focused. Otherwise they’ll screw up their work and make mistakes.

Something to occupy your mind while we wait for Coach? I asked Dom. He shrugged, but certainly was not opposed to paddling some muscle butt. I grabbed Abel. Dom and Reuben grabbed the other two blue collar boys. We took them outside by the pool and bent them over the balcony railing and began paddling their broad bottoms. They said nothing, but grunted a bit as we blistered their asses good and red. Occasionally they would mutter Thank you, sir, after a good, hard swat. We were really starting to get into it, when we heard a voice boom through the penthouse:


Dom dropped his paddle in surprise. Then he quickly backed away from the blue-collar boys and took position by the pool. He crouched down and put his right hand on the floor, then arched his back and raised his massive bottom up in submission. The three-point stance was a common position for football players on the field while in line for a play. But it was also the Pain Pigs’ official disciplinary position. They were trained to take the position and hold it while getting their asses paddled by the coaches for any mistakes they made.

And the head of their team of coaches was the infamous Coach Adam, who had just arrived for his very first visit to our penthouse. Adam, like all coaches, was from the executive faction. He wore a tight-fitting brown vested suit with his faction colors visible in his tie—gray, gold, and black. His hair was blond, and he had a perfectly groomed mustache and goatee. He was nearly the size of a football player himself, no doubt the influence of the gold, and now that I got to see him up close, noticed that he had a nicely filled out ass to match. His tight brown dress slacks perfectly showed off the shape of his butt cheeks.

Coach Adam had one of his massive paddles in hand and large briefcase in the other. He strode straight over to Dom, acknowledging us with a simple nod. He dropped the briefcase beside Dom and without so much as saying another word, lined up behind Dom, raised that massive paddle back with both hands and swung full force. CRACK! He slammed it as hard as he could right across the center of Dom’s ass. CRACK! CRACK! He administered ten furious swats in seconds. Because we were outside on the deck, the sound of the blows echoed off nearby buildings. We could already see Dom’s ass turning red through the sheer fabric of this white football pants.

What the hell happened? Coach Adam yelled, then swatted Dom’s ass again. Where are my boys? CRACK! Why did you let me down? CRACK!

I’m sorry, sir! Dom said. I didn’t know what they were doing.

Not good enough, Coach Adam said. CRACK! And don’t think I don’t see your head bobbing with the swats. Stay in position! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Coach Adam unloaded another flurry of paddle swats.

I’m sorry, sir!

Rico is your responsibility off the field, Coach Adam said between swats.

Yes sir.

You are supposed to keep him out of trouble!

Yes sir.

When was the last time you beat his ass?

I don’t ... I don’t remember, sir! This prompted another flurry of swats. As captain of the offense, Dom was expected to keep up the discipline for the boys on his half of the team off the field. Max was responsible for off-field discipline for the defense, and he would regularly visit players in the building with his thick strop.

It’s been about four days, coach. Reuben volunteered. Reuben permitted Dom to punish Rico and even for Max to punish Jeffrey as long as he were there to oversee it (which usually meant double-teaming the footballer).

That. CRACK! Won’t WHACK! Do. CRACK! The last swat was so hard that the coach’s paddle split and broke into pieces. Adam dusted off his hands as the wooden chunks fell to the pool deck. He leaned over to open up his big briefcase. There were two more paddles inside, just like the ones he just ruined.

There’s a couple of wrestlers up here, right? he said almost mildly. Will and Lance were standing with the other golden boys watching the show. He noticed them and nodded. Would you do me a favor here and assist me with Dom’s discipline? They both grinned and stepped forward. He handed them both paddles.

Double team him, if you would be so kind, Adam said. You hold position, Dom. I need to talk to these two for a minute. And then we’ll head over to practice He pointed his thumb over at us. Will and Lance took position behind Dom raised up their paddles, and began whacking away. I had heard rumors that there was an in-house rivalry developing between the wrestlers and footballers over the hazing of losing players. Will and Lance’s seeming enjoyment at paddling Dom, who was the informal leader of the hazing squad, looked like potential evidence.

When Coach Adam headed over our way I half expected him to demand we bend over for swats, too. Instead, his dour expression receded and he even offered a slight smile as he introduced himself to us and offered his hand for us to shake.

Gentlemen, he said. Good to finally come up here to meet see you all in person at the penthouse. I’d say I wish it were under better circumstances, but really, whenever I come out here it’s probably going to be to bust some ass.

I’m surprised you’re not mad at us, Reuben said. The boys got grabbed by the commandos partly because we didn’t warn them. Adam shook his head no.

Max is no dummy, Adam said. He was heavily involved with this and he had to know that at some point the commandos were going to take action. If he didn’t realize it, that’s a huge oversight for somebody I expect to be a leader, and he’s getting exactly what he deserves. If he did realize it, and was doing it anyway, he deserves a lot more than what he’s going to be getting the next couple of days, and I’m going to damn well make sure he does.

You’re not mad at us? I asked.

Nah, he said. If anything, I owe the two of you.

What? I replied.

Max, Rico and Jeffrey decided they needed the toughest coaches because of the way the two of you had dominated them and busted their asses early on. They realized that’s exactly what they needed, so they convinced all the other players to get coaches with black as their third color. And it’s been a real good fit so far. The two of you actually helped lead to the making of the Pain Pigs.

Oh. Well, glad to oblige, I said. We didn’t really intend to cause all this. The two of us were just sadistic brutes.

I need to ask you a favor, though, Adam said. Do you guys have any more room for guys up here in the penthouse?

It just so happened that Max’s old room was now empty. Since I was pretty much forcing him into my bed every night, he didn’t need a room any more. I hadn’t really figured out what to do with it other than knock down the wall and combine our rooms.

For who? Reuben asked. You?

No, no, not me, Adam said. He pointed at thumb over his shoulder to Dom. Him.

Dom? I said. I honestly wouldn’t mind taking a paddle to Dom’s broad bottom on a regular basis. He looked a lot like Max, but with shorter hair and scruffy stubble.

He needs to be treated the way you two treat the other three guys, Adam said. He isn’t getting enough discipline and so he’s not handing it out enough here at home.

We could have Craig be his landlord, Reuben said. Craig only has Lance at the moment. That would make sure Dom got plenty of attention.

Yeah, and don’t let Craig’s prankster behavior fool you, I said. He is just as sadistic as the two of us. Dom will be going to bed crying with Craig around.

That will be perfect, Adam said, grinning. He walked back over to Dom. Lance and Will were still slamming paddles across his ass, alternating swats, with no breaks between them. Dom’s ass was now very deeply red, visible through the seat of his football uniform.

Dom! Adam growled. We noticed that the coach’s voice instantly shifted back to its snarling, dominant, take-no-shit tone. Here’s the way things are going to go.

Yes sir.

Once I’m done explaining some things I’m gonna tell these boys to stop, but I think I’ll take my time. You two keep heating up this piggy boy’s tail. Will and Lance nodded and continued swatting away.

When we’re done you’re going to head straight to practice, Adam said.

Yes sir.

I’ll be along a little later. You tell the coaches that it’s double discipline today for any fuck-ups.

Yes sir.

And when you are done, you’re going to come back home, grab your things, and you’re gonna move up here into this penthouse with these guys.

Yes sir.

Craig’s gonna your landlord from now own and he’ s gonna make sure that ass of yours pays. Understood?

Yes sir.

Of course, Reuben and Aaron here might want a cut now and then. You’ll just have to deal.

Yes sir.

And no more hazing play for any Pain Pigs for the rest of the week. And no more partying. You guys are focusing on nothing but winning this next game, understood?

Yes sir.

What’s the punishment for missing a practice, Dom?

Two hours of paddling, sir.

Do the math for me then. What’s the punishment I’m going to be dishing out once these guys get home?

Four hours of paddling for Max, Rico, and Jeffrey. And four hours for me, too, sir.

And why is that, Dom?

Because I’m responsible for Rico, and any punishment he receives I also receive.

That’s right, Adam said. Actually that also means Max is going to get eight hours of paddling. He’s responsible for Jeffrey, so he has to take his own punishment and additional punishment for Jeffrey.

I had paddled Max’s ass for hours on end, but I don’t think he’s had a full eight hours straight yet. Though for all I knew he might be getting more of that in The Brig today and tomorrow.

All right, we’re done here, Adam said. Guys you can stop. Thank you very much for your assistance. Will and Lance reluctantly stopped paddling Dom’s ass and started handing over the paddles.

Keep them, Adam said. They’re sized perfectly for Dom’s ass. Since he’s moving up here, they’re good to have around. Dom, get your ass up, and get over to practice now.

Dom stood up and turned around. His face was red and he had been crying, but it wasn’t just the crying that had turned his face red. His eyes were narrowed, his brow was furrowed, and he was scowling. The punishment made him angry.

Yes sir, he said. He barely acknowledged us as he strode back through the penthouse to the elevator and left.

He’s gonna want to spread that pain around to the other players, Adam said. That’s exactly what I want. Max is a good guy. Pain makes him focus. Makes him more observant and careful as a leader. I need that on the defense. Dom, though, he is not a good guy. He’s a bully and he’s a bit mean, and punishing his ass just makes him more of a bully and even meaner. And that’s exactly what I want leading the offense. I just need to work on bringing out his aggression even more. I think this will help.

Have you heard about Craig’s fire oil? Reuben asked.

Can’t say that I have, Adam said. Reuben laughed.

Let’s just say you can expect your boy Dom to be in a mood every morning for practice.

Good, good, Adam said. I want him busting Pain Pig asses.

Speaking of busting Pain Pig asses, I said and pointed to the television. Max, Rico, and Jeffrey were being brought into the Brig.

Okay, I wanna see what they’re doing to our guys before I head back to practice, Adam said. Gotta wonder if they’re going to be any rougher on them than I am. The three of us gathered in front of the television, while the blue collar boys worked around us putting the penthouse back in order. Adam snapped his fingers at one of the men and pointed to the back of the couch, which had been put back into place. The blue-collar boy obediently walked over and bent over the couch. Coach Adam pulled down his the butt flap of his overalls.

Could be redder, he said.

Yes sir, the blue collar said, raising his bottom up in submission.

As our three Pain Pigs were led to their imprisonment, Adam took his large paddle and started whacking away at the ass of the worker. The coach didn’t seem angry at all, but he beat the guy’s ass just as harshly as he beat Dom’s.

On the television, Max, Rico and Jeffrey were fed into the containment holes in the Brig walls adjacent to the punks. Again they were in an alternating position so that Max’s head came out of one side with Levi’s ass right next to him, and Rico and Jeffrey’s asses were above and below him. Each man was, depending on his position in the wall, looking over at least two of his buddies’ asses and not in a position to talk to each other. After the three football players were locked into position, a commando carefully cut the seat out of each of their uniforms, showing their massive muscular bottoms in their jocks. We could see a red web pattern on each of their asses as a result of the shock nets they used on them earlier.

Unlike the punks, the Pain Pigs did not resist. It was part of the surrender mentality. They clearly understood they could not escape this situation or their punishment, so they would submit just like the blue collar gentleman Adam was paddling.

Then the camera cut to a producer with a microphone standing next to a stern commando. The commando’s colors (presented by a rank badge on the shoulder of his uniform) were green, gray, and gold. He had moderately brown skin with black hair (cut short, of course) and graying sideburns.

Do you know what the ranks mean? I asked Reuben.

Gray is top command. Gold is security, Reuben said. In this order, he’s probably in charge of the whole prison there.

The producer proved Reuben right by introducing the commando as Warden Carlos.

Sir, we’ve had dozens of punks come through the Brig, but these are our first golden boys, the producer said. So we probably a few new folks watching now to find out what’s going on. Can you fill us all in?

Absolutely, son, Warden Carlos said. These fine football players here have been kidnapping some of our commandos on a regular basis.

But golden boys take down and punish commandos all the time, the producer said. And sometimes when the commandos outnumber them, they give right back. Why is this different?

They weren’t kidnapping our men to punish them or fuck them themselves, Carlos said. We don’t put jocks into the Brig for that. That’s normal horseplay. What these boys were doing was kidnapping our guys and then handing them over to those three punks right next to them. Those punks were the ones beating our commandos.

And that’s a problem, the producer said.

Absolutely, Carlos said. We are establishing a rule here that nobody—whether golden boy or hunter or anybody else—may take and turn us over to our enemies in the punk faction. Every golden boy watching needs to pay attention to this. We want to keep our focus on punishing those trouble-making punks. But if you get involved in this dispute, you will leave us no choice but implement this sentence.

What are these golden boys in for?

They have been sentenced to 48 hours in the Brig, Carlos said. That’s pretty mild for a first visit. Future arrests, if there are any, will lead to much longer sentences. He then spoke into a communicator. Guards, commence punishment on Group 32, beginning now. Twenty minute rotations with forty minutes rest.

Explain to our new viewers, please, the producer asked.

Our punishment regimen consists of twenty solid minutes of the prison strop, followed by a forty-minute break between discipline sessions. This punishment regimen continues from sunrise to sunset. Given that there’s six of them, this will work out to an easy rotation. Two will be punished for 20 minutes, then they’ll move on to another two, then the final two. Then they will return to the first couple for a new set.

And what happens after sunset? The producer asked.

At night, our prisoners thank and repay their guards with their pretty bottoms and mouths, Carlos said. Our guards and other commandos on the base here are free to force themselves on the prisoners sexually. Both ends. At the same time if they like. He smiled a little bit at the thought. Give that these are our first golden boys, I suspect the three of them are going to be very popular tonight. They will probably not get a whole lot of sleep.

And all guards have gold in one of their ranks, too, don’t they? the producer asked.

They sure do, Carlos said. We all share respect for strength of the body. Some of the guards are even fans of the Pain Pigs. Don’t expect them to go easy on them, though.

They better not, Coach Adam muttered.

Given our new guests, the producer said, We will stay focused on this Group 32 in today’s coverage. Watch to see them get punished all day, then tune in after dark to see some hot forced prison sex!

With that, the camera cut back to the boys in the brig. The catwalks were set up for the guards to punish Max and Levi first. They were side by side, so Max had little choice but to watch as Levi’s ass was stropped, and Levi had no choice but to see Max’s punishment. A guard stood behind each of them holding a large strop. It was not unlike Max’s, but even thicker and wider.

On you mark, gentlemen one guard said. Synchronize punishment. Stroke! The two guards swung their strops at the exact same time. A dual CRACK! echoed. The camera was focused on Max’s ass and Levi’s face. We saw Max’s ass cheeks quiver at the swat, while Levi’s head bounced around in place and he yelled out in pain. And then demanded to be let go, calling the guards assholes.

Stroke! The guard commanded. Another lash with the strops again slammed across both their asses, again perfectly synchronized. The camera switched to the other side so we could see Max’s face. He was grimacing with the swats, but was not shouting out in pain yet. It would take a while to get him crying.

I’m going to check them out after practice again, Adam said. They better remember all that training and keep their mouths shut. They can cry all they want, but no yelling or begging like those punks.

How is this going to affect your next game? I asked as Adam stopped paddling the blue collar boy and directed him back to work with the others after closing his ass flap.

We’re probably going to lose, Adam said. Two days without their defense captain. It’s probably just as well. These guys need to learn exactly how I’m going to treat them when they lose before we sign a season-long contract.

That sounds a little interesting, Reuben said.

Oh, you’ll see, Adam said. This trip to the Brig will look like a vacation.

Next: New Connections

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