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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 warm up. The real pain came when the commandos lubed up for sex. I hadn’t even thought about it, but the second my soldier’s cock pressed against my tender hole, I realized this was going to be harsh. I whimpered and cried as he fucked me. He showed my throbbing asshole absolutely no mercy. It was the most painful sex I’ve had since Max first fucked me with his massive dick. Craig was growling and quivering, and his cock remained rock-hard through it all. It was impossible to tell whether he hated it or loved it or both.

But the pain wasn’t done there. Reuben decided afterward we had suffered enough as target practice. It was time to go home. But as he walked over to us with that mean grin of his on his face, he gestured to us with his fingers, and I realized with a groan what was about to happen. He was going to finger-fuck us all the way on the walk back home from the park. And thanks to all the torment of getting shot so many times, we were going to feel a lot more than just discomfort. I winced and yelped as he shoved a pair of fingers roughly up my ass and cried all the way on the long walk home.

I was kind of surprised that Reuben didn’t also gag us, but he seemed to like it when he smack-talked us and we gave back as good as we got. He was probably hoping we’d beg him to stop, which wasn’t going to happen. I noticed the commandos rarely gagged their victims. They liked to hear them complain, especially the punks. It reinforced their feelings of dominance.

There was one exception. Toward the end of the week, Reuben, Craig and I were all invited to a new talk show on the gladiator channel called Rivals, which was about, well, rivalries among the gladiators. Reuben agreed on all our behalves and then gagged Craig and I so he could both dominate the discussion and also publicly humiliate us.

In a way, this was an example of how the week was also weirdly relaxing. Craig and I had been so involved in putting together the formats and the rules of the gladiator matches and building our little penthouse community and our fun rivalry with Reuben that we were oddly isolated from most of what else was going on in the city, let alone the rest of the Painfather’s world. Getting dragged over to a television studio was something new and fun.

An eight-story building a block over from our stadium had been claimed by the producers and executives as the operations center for all the gladiator matches. It was there that the blue collars were organized to keep the stadium operating properly and where the producers had studios devoted to coverage of the gladiator fights. Our gladiator leadership council had meetings there, and even Joss (along with his crew) had space I the building to hammer out how the gladiator arenas would work.

We were headed up to the top floor studio, where coverage of the gladiator games outside of the actual events would take place. I was happy to see there were actually dozens of producers that shared the same colors as Craig and me and Joss: black, purple and gold. Of course, for producers, purple was their primary color. It was a nice reminder that there were more guys with mentalities like ours here in the city, even if I didn’t interact with them too often yet.

And that included Victor, whom we first met as the gladiators were getting started. Victor was a handsome blond hunk with a cleft chin and a solid jawline. He was physically big for a producer. He wasn’t as big as us gladiators, but he was up there. All the producers here were more muscular than some of the others we had seen. It must have been the secondary influence of both the gold and the black on them.

Victor had become the face of the media coverage of the gladiators. He had taken the lead in getting in front of the camera to anchor analysis of our league, and he was becoming a celebrity in his own right. He greeted us to bring us up to the studio and laughed when he saw that Craig and I had been gagged.

Looks like the smack-talk will be a little one-sided, Victor said with obvious glee. Gotta love the public humiliation. I know I’m probably supposed to be rooting for Aaron and Craig, but you know how to treat a purple boy, Reuben.

Victor and his fellow producers loved all the rivalries developing and one of their goals was to use media coverage of us to keep the feuds going. He chatted with us a bit before bringing us into the studio to film. The feedback they were getting from the fans was that the rivalries were definitely helping with the buzz for the games before the real season started. We were all developing our own fan bases. Craig’s pranks had drawn him the attention of like-minded producers from the amusement park and even purple-influenced punks and hunters who liked to have fun when they got their hands on a man to punish and do more than just spank. I was drawing the eye of other showboating purple-influenced jocks who liked to make a spectacle of themselves during competition and win (or lose) in style. Reuben, it turned out, was developing quite a fan base among commando leadership types (like Cody, possibly). They liked his planned out approach to both competition and dealing with his rivalry with us. They were no doubt pleased at how Reuben had gotten us both under his thumb before the final match of the pre-season.

For the show, the three of us were brought out to a nice leather couch to sit down and talk. I was on Reuben’s left. Craig on his right. Since the two of us were essentially helpless, Victor encouraged Reuben to do whatever he liked with us during the show.

Oh, I don’t need any encouragement for that, Reuben said.

Victor started off the show by actually modeling our new gladiator shorts for the cameras. He wore a white pair of spandex shorts that went down just a couple of inches on the thigh, enough so the curve of our butts weren’t interrupted with seams. The right side of the shorts had our new logo and color system. For these shorts, a purple rectangle down the whole outside of the thigh, which had inside it a black paddle engulfed in golden flames.

Technically these are Aaron’s shorts, Victor explained to the camera as he modeled. But I figured I’d give them a try out. What do you all think? Craig and I couldn’t do much except give an awkward thumbs up.

You’ve definitely got the ass of a gladiator, Reuben said. Walk around like that and I might confuse you with Aaron. He waved his paddle at Victor as a bit of a warning. That also reminded him I was sitting right next to him, so he grabbed me and dragged me over his lap to paddle me while Victor interviewed him.

Reuben was full of boasts, explaining that he had extensively researched both Craig’s and my fighting styles because we loved sparring in front of the camera. And while he declined to get into too many details, he explained that he had been preparing for his little stunt this week since the very start of the pre-season. He didn’t want to interrupt the two of us prepping the games, he explained, but wanted to be ready to pounce as soon as we were done.

At this point, I have to wonder if there’s even a rivalry, Victor wondered. You seem to have the upper hand, Reuben! We’ve been watching Aaron and Craig getting tormented for days now. Your fans love it, but did these two bite off more than they can chew?

Oh, I hope so, Reuben said while paddling away. But I’m not taking anything for granted. These two may not be in charge of designing the new arenas, but we all know they’re probably gonna be really good at fighting in them.

We’ve got the stats to show that, too, Victor said. He explained to the results of all the physical tests we had been subjected to. Craig and I had the highest reaction times and reflexes among the gladiators. The theory was that our ability to improvise and respond quickly to what happens in the unpredictable arenas would give us a natural advantage, even though we had no advance knowledge of what the arenas looked like.

But Victor also pointed out that when Reuben gets his hands on either of us, he had the potential to outmuscle us, so we had to fight carefully. Reuben and his buddy, Li, were physically the two strongest gladiators and Reuben was extremely proud to have been designated at the harshest paddler and said he’d be happy to demonstrate on anybody who had doubts.

Also, a bit to my surprise, Reuben also had a bit of praise for me and Craig, even as he held me down and blistered my ass. He loved all the creativity behind the arenas and matches we had organized and was very happy that he was going to get to make his own spanking machine to torment anybody he beat. Especially us. His comments made it clear that while he was not going to rest until he had the two of us completely dominated, this rivalry was not like the commandos vs. the punks. He didn’t want to order us around. He wanted to be top dog and just torment us however and whenever he wanted and force us to take it.

Got a couple of buddies who serve both Rex and Luis, Reuben explained. They’re teaching me how to have fun with these two while I’m having my way with their asses. He meant Cody and Edgar, I assumed. That certainly explained while he managed to capture both the mean and the fun parts of punishing us.

And are your victims enjoying themselves? Victor asked. Neither of us could actually respond. Craig just sort of half shrugged. I was busy bawling into my gag as Reuben beat my ass. But I really was. Craig obviously was, too. It almost felt like Reuben wasn’t just trying to prove his dominance over us. It was like he was showing us that he was willing to master us in such a way that we would legitimately enjoy being his slaves.

After the chat, Victor faced away from us to talk to the camera and fill viewers in a bit on what was going on with the gray gladiators and the new pink gladiators. The gray gladiators had brought it some pink gladiators to start their own rivalry and was surprised to discover the pink boys were no pushovers. Victor explained that the combination of pink and black as colors made for the toughest masochists. Pink gladiators can take the most punishment without breaking, and they recover from pain faster than the other colors. The gray gladiators were in for a tougher fight than they were expecting.

In the meantime, the three of us were on the couch listening to Victor talk. He was still in the spandex shorts I would be wearing. It really highlighted the blond man’s sexy bubble butt. Craig noted and bumped Reuben on the shoulder while he was paddling away on my ass.

What? Reuben said, stopping. Craig couldn’t talk, but he gestured in Victor’s direction with his chin. Reuben looked at him confusion. Craig gestured his bound hands at Reuben’s paddle, then toward Victor.

He’s still doing his show, Reuben whispered so as not to interrupt Victor. I looked over my shoulder at the two of them, as I was still stuck across Reuben’s knee. Craig nodded, and though he was gagged, we could see the mischievous gleam in his eye.
Well, Reuben whispered, he is purple and black like you two. And Nick made it clear exactly what that meant. Black and purple indicated a love of public humiliation as part of punishment. Reuben carefully picked me up off his lap and set me back down on the couch. Then he strode up behind Victor while he was talking into the camera.

Oh, hey there, Reuben, Victor said to the camera as Reuben walked up next to him, Anything else you want our fans out there to know?

Yeah, Reuben said, grinning into the camera. If you ever decide to dress like Aaron around me, I’m gonna treat you the way I treat Aaron.

What do you ... oh, no! Victor said, his eyes widening as he backed away from Reuben. But Reuben was obviously bigger and stronger. As Victor protested, Reuben grabbed him and picked up him up off the floor, carrying him underarm like he had with me before. He started paddling away with a happy grin – WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! The cameras kept rolling.

Ow! Fuck! Ow! Victor yelped. They were not exaggerating about his strength, fans! Hilariously, as Reuben continued to paddle his ass—just as hard as he beat any of us—Victor tried his best to give his closing comments. But then when Reuben yanked down Victor’s shorts and started paddling his bare ass, that was it for the host. The last thirty seconds of the episode was just him howling in pain while Reuben tormented him.

The producers and blue-collar boys who operated the equipment and filmed the show thought it was great, and the minute the recording ended they all cheered. Reuben eventually let Victor down. The host was crying and clutched his blistered ass, but he also had a big grin on his face. He shook his head in mock disappointment, but it was obvious that he loved the surprise spanking and humiliation.

When Reuben brought us back to the Smacktacularium again toward the end of the week, he dragged the two of us over to Craig’s prank shop first. There were a couple of new additions. Craig’s shop was now also selling stuff specifically for gladiator fans who either had purple as a color or wanted to show support for the purple gladiators (meaning Craig and me). There were shirts and shorts with the purple version of the gladiator logos, the black paddles with the G spelled out in holes, and even posters of the two of us.

But that’s not the real reason why Reuben brought us there. In the center of the shop was a small closet-sized display cell made from clear heavy plastic walls and a clear door of the same material. Hanging out next to the cell with his arms crossed was Miguel, Craig’s own personal hunter.

Miguel and Joss worked out fun plans for what they’re gonna due to you boys when they hunt you down for your bounties, Reuben said, as he pushed Craig over to Miguel. Craig here is going to put on a fun display in his own shop so people can stop by and watch him get tormented.

Miguel dragged Craig into the display case, and closed the door, which clicked shut, indicating it was locked. Even Craig weren’t already bound, he wouldn’t be escaping. Miguel had a sturdy stool inside the display to sit on to pull Craig over his lap.

Craig has some fun new stuff here that Miguel seems to like, Reuben said. He’s gonna use Craig to help sell it.

Miguel had a spray can, but I couldn’t tell what was in it. After he dragged Craig over his knee, he sprayed the contents of the can all over the seat of Craig’s spandex shorts.

This is called Hot Seat, boys, Miguel explained while holding up the can. Craig’s got it in stock here, and you’re about to see what it does. He pulled out his lighter (like Joss, he was a big cigar smoker), flicked it and touched the flame to Craig’s butt. With a burst of blue-orange flame, Craig’s entire rear end caught fire everywhere Miguel had sprayed.

Miguel just sat there for a moment, firmly clutching Craig around the waist. Soon, Craig began yelping and squirming, and then soon he was kicking and hollering as his ass began to feel the heat.

Great thing about Hot Seat is that it fire is burning up the chemical spray, not the pants or whatever he’s wearing, Miguel said. So as the flames start to fade you can just spray more and keep it going.

Miguel loved incorporating heat into his punishment, and the various heat-related prank items made him a good choice to torment Craig. After a few minutes, Craig surrendered to the pain, raising his bottom up in submission and ending his struggles. To the amusement of the onlookers, Miguel pulled out a cigar and lit it from the flames from Craig’s butt.

With that, Reuben dragged me out the shop and back into the park.

Let me guess, I said. I’m going on display outside the Hall of Fear.

Good guess, Reuben said. But not quite exactly right. You’ll see.

Reuben dragged me up the Hall of Fear, but there was no display cell for me anywhere I could see like there was for Craig at his store. He pushed me up the front of the line of men waiting to risk their butts trying to get through the maze.

Special delivery, Reuben declared. Bring him to Joss. He knows what to do. The robed monk at the front nodded and pulled me inside the hall. I wondered if I was just going to go through the hall the way I had before, but that wasn’t the case. The monk (a hunter in black robes, really) escorted me through the dark maze where hunters lay in wait to ambush and paddle men navigating the maze. The maze was almost entirely dark, but I could see off in the distance a small, lit-up area. As I approached, I realized that it was a display cell just like the one in Craig’s shop.

Inside, Joss was sitting on a stool, smoking his cigar, holding his Lexan paddle, and waiting for me.

Ah, so I’m going to be bait, I said as the monk opened the door to hand me over to Joss. If people want to watch me get paddled by you, they’re gonna have to enter the Hall of Fear and face getting their own punishment!

Yup, Joss said, as he grabbed me and roughly forced me over his knee the way Miguel had Craig. You like it?

Your hunters being as mean to the fans as you are to me? I said. I love it. Hope Reuben’s followers come to watch and go home limping and humiliated.

My body surrendered immediately as Joss yanked down my shorts to bare my ass for the paddle. There would be no squirming or struggling. I knew there was no way I was going to escape this punishment.

Damn, that’s a nice and busted ass, Joss said, kneading my cheeks a little bit. Happy to contribute to the cause. I couldn’t help but laugh a little bit. I would be crying for the rest of the day.

Turned out there was more than one reason the display was lit up. The obvious reason was so that people wandering the maze could watch me get tormented. But the other reason was so that Joss could grab my head while he had me in position and force me to look back over my shoulder to make eye contact with me while paddling me good and raw. And as he had previously done, all of his swats rained down viciously on the exact same spot on my ass, relentlessly.

I started crying almost immediately, given how sensitive my butt had become. That just made him smile, and I spent the day in blistering pain, staring into his dark, intense eyes and gentle smile, unable to look away. Though sometimes I couldn’t see his face clearly through all the tears.

Next: Very Sore Losers

 
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