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Aaron's Game
Chapter 23: The Longest Week

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: 02 Jul 2017

Aaron’s Game – Chapter 23: The Longest Week

So let’s get the outcome out of the way first: Craig and I were unable to break the metal wrist restraints Edgar had attached to us before our next match in the arena. We were stuck with our arms bound in front of us for the whole week, unable to stop Reuben (or others) from doing whatever the hell he wanted to our vulnerable asses. The entire week was punctuated with loads of spankings, rape, and finger-fuckings from Reuben. Reuben won this round. We were his temporary slaves.

Reuben also managed to keep both Craig and me from getting our rocks off at all during that week. Not a single orgasm between us. I got close, though. Reuben didn’t immediately notice when Max returned from the Brig after his two-day punishment session. I caught him right as he got off the elevator and, even with my hands bound, managed to pull down his pants and bend him over a table in the entry foyer. I forced my cock in—the two of us barely even speaking—but since I didn’t have any lube available at hand, his cries of pain drew Reuben’s attention. He ran over and pulled me off Max. To torment me further, he fucked Max himself in front of me, just like he had done with Craig and Dom.

Being denied sex was even more torment than all the spankings. I was expecting to get my ass punished a fuck-ton during my week of enslavement under Reuben. I didn’t realize he was going to deny me sexual pleasure completely, and that added a new level of psychological torment to his domination. Not even a blowjob from Lenny or Trip. Nothing. I got fucked plenty, though, so I did at least get the pleasurable feelings of being a bottom.

While I could go on for hours and hours describing each and every spanking Craig or I endured over the next week, perhaps it’s better to focus on the highlights. To be clear, though, by the end of that first day, I found myself unable to sit down on my extremely blistered, extremely red butt, and Reuben made sure that both of us remained that way. He never let Craig recover from the punishment from the paddling machine.

Some highlights from the week:

After that first night, I was awakened the next morning, still trapped in the punishment stocks, not by Reuben but from Will and Rodney. Will, a wrestler, and Rodney, a rugby player, were both my tenants and were supposed to be submissive to me under the rules of our arrangement. But both Will and Rodney had rebellious orange as a secondary color. They took great fun in breaking the rules (they secretly teamed up to try to take me down together during our fight to decide who the landlord would be before).

So since I was helpless to stop them, and apparently Reuben was still in bed, the two of them woke me up with their own paddles. They double-teamed me for a good 15 minutes, getting me crying again. Then they took turns fucking me. I knew better than to complain that they weren’t allowed to do this because I was their landlord. Part of what turned me on when I invited them to move in was the knowledge that the two of them would try to take advantage of opportunities like this. They’d keep me on my toes.

Enjoy it while you can, boys, I warned them. Payback is gonna come in a week. They just laughed. My threat didn’t have much leverage because as their landlord, they submitted to me for sex and spankings already.

Keep in mind, we get another crack at fighting you soon, Will pointed out. If Reuben has you in bondage again, we’re still gonna come after you and it’s still gonna count as a win. Once a month I faced off with my tenants (Will, Rodney, and Max) in a one-on-one fight. If they were able to defeat me, then they would become my landlord and I’d have to submit to them for 30 days. The chance of them beating me right now remained extremely low. I was stronger than all three of them and a much better fighter. But bondage would certainly even the odds.

When Reuben came out to see them torment me, I thought it first he was going to stop them. It looked that way at first, but then he took a moment to think about how I was being punished by the very guys I invited to live here and decided that he liked it. He gave Reuben and Will permission to punish and fuck me as long as he and his own boys weren’t claiming me.

Yes, Reuben did also let his own boys torment Craig and me. That was a big deal for Kyle and Johnny (baseball players) and Hayato (soccer player). They were well-built and strong like all golden boys, but for their own sports. They normally had absolutely no chance to take down a gladiator at all. So they loved tormenting the two of us, something they normally would never get to do. They made sure to bend us over various pieces of furniture in the apartment and paddle and fuck us whenever Reuben allowed it. It turned out Hayato loved punishing and fucking guys bigger than himself. This left him mostly punishing blue-collar guys like Abel when he could, because he could never outmuscle bigger golden boys. He loved pulling out a stool and draping me or Craig across his lap, getting turned on at the comically absurd size difference between us when spanking us.

Lance, the wrestler who submitted to Craig, was a loyal boy who was only willing to dominate Craig if he won a fight. And once Max, Jeffrey, and Rico returned, Coach Adam gave him and all the Pain Pigs strict orders that they weren’t allowed any more horse play until after the next game, assuming they won.

Speaking of which, after Max, Jeffrey, and Rico returned from their 48 hours of imprisonment and stropping at the Brig, Coach Adam had asked us to have them report to him immediately (along with Dominic). We all knew why. Their punishment was far from over. After Reuben fucked Max in order to tease me, he sent the four of them to practice. Later on, Reuben force marched us—finger-fucking us along the way like he usually did—out to their practice field to see what was going on.

While the coaches of the Pain Pigs usually dished out the paddle swats to the players on their own, the four of them were due hours of punishment as a result of the missed practices. But the coaches still had practices to run, too, and couldn’t set aside the time to do it themselves. Max, Rico, and Jeffrey were due four hours of relentless swats for missing practice. Even though Dominic didn’t miss practice, because he was the offensive captain, he received the same punishment as anybody on the offense—Rico in this case. Max was the defensive captain, so not only was he set to receive four hours of swats, he was going to get another four hours of swats because Jeffrey was also on the defense. So rather than lining the four of them up in the three-point stance, the coach dragged out the spanking tubes for the men.

The spanking tubes were metal, vertical cylindrical automated punishment machines. Men were locked inside and encased, which just their bared bottoms poking out through perfectly sized holes. Large paddles attached to hinged robotic arms administered the beatings, good and hard. A timer controlled the duration of the punishment, and the paddling wouldn’t end until the timer reached zero. I hadn’t been stuck in one of these tubes yet, but I famously pushed Reuben into one early on, helping fuel our rivalry.
The coach arranged for these spanking machines to be affixed with his massive wooden paddles designed for the large bottoms of his football players. The four tubes were lined up side by side and we could see the four extremely raw asses of our roommates getting paddled good and hard. The echoes of the swats bounced around the stadium. They still had hours to go on their punishment. We wouldn’t even see Max again until the evening.

In what was a little bit of a surprise, Reuben dragged us out to the Smacktacularium park twice during the week. It seemed a little odd at first, given that the park was the domain of Luis and the purple-influenced guys like myself and Craig. Yeah, there were plenty of ways to get your ass beat at the park, but it was fun, so it appealed to guys like me and Craig. We both enjoyed visits to the place, and of course, it’s where Craig’s prank shop was found.

It turned out, though, that Reuben had a plan. One thing I learned during the week was not to underestimate Reuben’s planning when given the opportunity to dominate and torment other men. We were there as presents. He dragged us over to the shooting gallery and told them Craig and I could be used as targets for the rest of the day.

The shooting gallery had been introduced to lure commandos into the park. Several dozens of the commandos’ rivals, the punks, had been bound and forced into service as targets. They were imprisoned thorough the wall with their bared asses facing outward (much like the commandos did to prisoners in their brig). The challenge was to score points by shooting the punk in the ass with a gun loaded with rubber bullets that stung like hell. Score enough points (extra points for hitting the asshole!) and the prize was an hour of private time spanking and fucking the punk. The punks’ legs weren’t restrained, so they were free to kick and squirm, and so there was more of a challenge than it appeared.

Reuben dragged us over to join the punks. All the commandos enjoying the game immediately perked up. The chance to punish and fuck a gladiator didn’t come around often. Realizing there was going to be a huge line to try to win some time with us, the producers operating the shooting gallery set a high score point threshold to win time with us. Their aim had to be excellent, so good that they had to hit us several times right in the center on our sensitive holes in order to win.

Heh, I bet you’re looking forward to this, I said to Craig as we were forced into position in the back of the shooting gallery. Craig loved tormenting the asshole—and having his punished, too.

Oh yeah, ever since I saw this, Craig said. I’m not gonna make it easy though.

I wasn’t either. If they wanted our asses, they’d have to earn them. We were forced through holes in the wall with our back halves (including bared asses) inside the gallery facing the shooters and our head, arms, and upper body restrained on the other side. A look to the left down the line allowed us to see all the punk prisoners, yelling, complaining, and crying about their predicament.

I couldn’t see what Craig was doing with his legs, but I was definitely kicking mine and wriggling my butt to make for a harder target. I heard the first couple of shots hit wide and then one struck me in the thigh. Too low. I didn’t feel any pain.

But then – WHAM! A bullet got me right in the middle of my left cheek. I gasped in surprise and exhaled out a pained groan. Holy shit, did it hurt, and it was a brand new type of pain for me. The round rubber bullets stung the surface where they hit, but the pain also penetrated deep within the muscle thanks to the inertia. It was as though the weight of a thick, heavy paddle were concentrated in a small circular spot. And the pain was lingering, too. There was obviously going to be a bruise. My eyes widened at the thought at what it was going to feel like when one struck me right in the hole.

Craig and I both started yelping in pain as the bullets started hitting our asses more frequently. And since we had such huge bubble butts compared to the punks, it was easier to score, even with our kicking. But in order to score enough points to actually lay claim to us, they had to hit our assholes multiple times.

YEARGH! OHHHH, FUCK! Craig yelled out suddenly. Bullseye! Then he began to moan. Ohhhhh. That’s the stuff, man. I was wondering when that would happen. I could hear somebody on the other side exclaim something in surprise. Then some of the other commandos began to laugh.

What’s going on? I asked.

Erection, Craig said sheepishly. Popped out of my jock. Wait until you feel it, man.

It would be a good twenty minutes until it was my turn. In the meantime the rest of my ass was sore and bruised from being peppered with rubber shots. Then suddenly, an unexpected, blossoming, overwhelming pain right on my hole. A direct hit!

YAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! I howled, louder than I ever had at a single paddle swat. The pain didn’t even begin to fade for a good 30 seconds. It wasn’t at all like Craig’s fire oil. It was powerful stinging fury that flared and throbbed. I think I could feel my asshole swelling in reaction. My eyes began to water.

But that wasn’t even enough to win me. They had deliberately set the score high. I could hear some commandos complain, but the barkers responded that we were the elites of the golden boys, and if they wanted to win time with us, they needed to bring their A Game.

Craig and I ended up trapped in shooting gallery for most of the day. Our asses were constantly being peppered with rubber bullets, but only occasionally did they hit a bullseye. Craig got hit in the sweet spot twice in a row, and I thought he was going to cum just from the pain.

Nobody was scoring high enough to win us. This ended up being a painful irony: If a commando won me, he’d pull me down and have an hour to paddle and fuck me. The spanking would hurt, obviously, but the sex would have been some sweet relief from being target practice. The two of us ended up getting punished even more with the rubber bullets due to the fact that nobody was actually winning.

What on earth have we got here? I heard from the front of the shooting gallery. That recognizable drawl belong to handsome Capt. Cody, the commando who helped develop this cruel little game. A little birdie told me I might wanna stop by and check out what was going on. Reuben, no doubt.

Cody wandered around into the back to give us wave and a smirk.

Hey there, boys, he said. Looks like I snagged me a couple of gladiators. We nodded back to him.
Think you can win us? I asked him. We’ve been here all day waiting.

Oh, no sir, Cody said earnestly. I can shoot, but you’ve gotta be deadeyes to hit those nice, tight little holes of yours. Then he winked.

Fortunately, I brought a couple of my best sharpshooters. My eyes widened, and before I could respond, another burst of pain right on my asshole. Craig must have been hit right at the same time, because we both howled with pain together. Before I had fully absorbed that pain – WHAM! Another perfect shot. I screamed again. Seconds later, Craig joined me.

I started kicking for real, doing everything to make it hard for the commando to shoot me in the asshole. It did no good. These guys were patient and perfect. Craig and I each took ten rubber bullets each right to the tender flesh of our rectums. By the time it was over, my golden boy surrender weakness had triggered. I just lay their helplessly in my restraints, defeated, bawling, and submissive. For the last three shots, I raised my ass up and just accepted them.

You should see the looks on your faces, boys, Cody said to us. I love seein’ a guy take it right in the sweet spot. Lights ’em up, good and proper.

Craig and I were dragged out of the target gallery to hand over to Cody’s snipers as prizes. The two men shared the same three colors: green, black, and purple. They had been part of Cody’s assault team when they took Max, Jeffrey and Rico prisoner. They were both thrilled to get their hands on a couple of gladiators, and dragged us off to a side area with benches and lube to punish us properly. It was an extremely painful walk. I’ve had a hard time walking after hardcore paddling sessions before, but that was due to the bruising and deep pain in my ass muscles. I had yet to be a situation where every step hurt because of my throbbing, sore asshole.

Hilariously, I barely felt the subsequent paddling after one of the soldiers dragged me over his knee. Yes, he spanked hard, but us gladiators hit harder, and the pain didn’t even compare to what my raw rectum felt right now. Craig maintained his erection the entire time he was being spanked.

I did notice off to the side while I was being paddled that Reuben had come back to watch and was chatting up Cody amiably. Occasionally Reuben would look over at us and Cody would gesture over in our direction. They were definitely talking about us. I wondered if Cody and Edgar were advising him in his plot to keep us dominated to win our rivalry. Cody and Edgar both had purple as secondary colors, so they understood what made me and Craig tick better than Reuben did.

The spanking actually ended up being the wa