I knew what to expect when I entered the gladiator's barracks, thrust in naked and collared the first night. The racks of beds were about three-quarters full, and most beds had at least two slaves in them. Some were sleeping, readying themselves for training the next day; others lay moving atop their moaning bunkmates, taking their pleasure either brutally, or with a savage, loving passion. In the far corner I noted six of them holding a recalcritant man over a bed; a tusked half-orc holding each limb, a slim but well-muscled elf keeping a blanket in his mouth to stifle his screams, and an eight foot tall Minotaur - not including horns - bent over, pumping into him with his huge bull's penis.
That didn't concern me right now, my imminent challenge did. Scanning the room, it became obvious who would be the first to give me trouble. A broad, yet lean Orc stood, brushing aside the two human youths he had licking at his feet, and approached me. His gait was measured, his collar was iron where mine was silver. He stood balanced, and leered, approaching me deliberately so as to stand too close to me for mental comfort. I felt no need to speak. I knew I had an audience, and it was time to perform, just as I would eventually perform in the arena. I centered, and slapped a palm into his chest playfully, shoving him back five feet, knocking him down.
He got up and charged, the stupidest thing he could have done. It wasn't a bad charge, but it ended with him slamming into the floor at a goodly speed. I took my motion, and let it propel me downward to slam a finishing fist into his gut. I stepped over him into the room, listening to him grunt and gasp for breath that wasn't going to come for a while. The air of challenge was gone from the room, and I noticed quite a few smiles from my audience.
The next one to move in my direction was a tall Theysia, a lizard-man. There was no conflict in his bearing but his collar was gold, betokening that as a gladiator, his quality was high.
"Hshsstck?" he asked. It was the inquiring password of the Order of Styrkyr, a reptilian order of warrior. No fool he, he saw in an instant that that was where I'd been trained. And if his collar was gold, he'd been trained there too.
"Sthsstis." I replied in the affirmative, watching his tail curl up to the right, the way a lizard-man would smile at meeting a long-lost comrade. Perhaps seven foot tall and well filled out, the scales on his back were an emerald green flecked with yellow, and his underside was a strokable golden tan. He threw an alligator-skin arm around my shoulders and led me to his bunk, chattering of things back at the order in the hissing Theysian tongue; becoming serious when he had me at his bed.
"Here are the rules of the place, and Grush there was breaking them. Training is for three hours in the morning, then we eat, and the rest of the day we train among ourselves. We have our own baths, which is the only place we are allowed to meet our Masters. The combats are every seventh day, of course."
"Amongst us, there is a ranking. Each person is issued five challenges per day. When you challenge, that fight will take place on the following day. The person you defeat and all those beneath him are your slaves. Priority of desire goes to whoever most recently defeated that slave. At present, I am number one, and you have no ranking until tomorrow. Your safety is my responsibility, and you have the right to refuse anything asked of you." His long, thick tail stroked my legs, and his forked tongue flicked out to caress my neck. "Tonight, and tonight alone, I can assure you."
The town was Karath, a place known for its free-enterprise court system. A wealthy gnome lordling had noticed me, and bumped into me on the street. He then promptly had me arrested for trying to pick his pockets. I hired a competent orator, who informed me that said gnome had already bribed the judge with three times the amount of money I could possibly pay. My choices were to serve as his house-slave for six months - and I didn't want to give him the satisfaction - or fight in the arena as his slave, with all my proceeds going to him. I chose the latter, as an arena reputation can never hurt a hired weapon like myself.
Jelaryn slipped his arms around me and clasped them behind my neck in a full-nelson, then sliding his legs alongside mine. His arms were long enough to hold me easily without pushing at my neck painfully, and he slid his tail between my legs from behind, and wrapped it up to press my crotch. He settled us on the bed, I upon my stomach and his sleek belly-scales atop my back, lulling me to sleep with insistent, yet gentle flicks of his tongue upon my ear.
I had five challenges to deal with the first day. The first was from a mid-ranked gnome. I didn't underestimate him; I chose unarmed as the weapon, got on my knees and let him come to me. Like that, I had more reach, and didn't have to reach down to him. Eventually, he came within reach, I blocked his kick and pinned him. He surrendered with the grin of someone who had just finished a win-win scenario.
The next two were from Grush's boys. Clearly, he'd ordered them to soften me up for him. The first was pathetic, but the second was a competent hard-stylist. I was forced to hard-block him for a while until I could kick him in the head, which meant I got to go up against Grush, formally, with bruised arms. I'd have to be careful.
I took sword and shield against Grush, since they were the weapons I'd been trained with since the age of four. My father was a mercenary before he settled down, and trained me till I was good enough to get into the Order of Styrkyr. I'm only a bit above five foot tall, so hang a good-sized shield on my arm and you almost can't see me.
Grush was much less stupid by the light of day. He faked, he threw wraparound shots, he tried to shield-bash. He didn't make any blatant mistakes, so I watched for him, and when he was about to throw a cross-body shot, I whacked his arm good and hard with my practice sword, sending his flying. I chased him to it, and by it, as he wasn't ignorant enough to try and get it with me there. Finally, he approached the wall, and had to charge. I let him press his shield up against mine; he grabbed for my sword but it was too late. I snapped my wrist up in a Scorpion, hitting him on the back of the head. He stalked off the field, amidst much laughter. I'm pretty certain I heard him swear revenge. What a joke.
After defeating Grush - and becoming ranked fourth - it was time for my final challenge. Jelaryn ordered me to sit and rest, even though he could by rights demand that I fight him immediately. Jelaryn chucked me on the shoulder, his tail curled up mirthfully. "Your submission would be tainted if I did not fight you whilst you were rested, my little bed-warmer." Memories from my time in the Order flooded back to me. I could only recall one Theysian being as large as Jelaryn, and I could never defeat him either. He was the only one in my year to graduate atop me, top in several senses of the word.
I chose unarmed combat. Jelaryn would be just as fierce in any weapon I cared to choose. A Theysian's iguanalike claws aren't ordinarily sharp; they're for climbing but they do make ripping cuts on flesh. We squared off, our stances at oblique angles. I could tell he was confident, and I was not. He was already winning. He stepped in and flew at me, low to the ground. I couldn't help remembering the feel of his weight on my back. I raised him up and over to dash him to the ground, almost as reflex, but I hadn't been watching his tail. It lashed around, changing his balance and catching me in the head on the end of its swing. I ended up putting him down on his feet instead of his back, reeling away from the blow. He pressed the attack with a kick, I struck it aside with my shin leading into a spinning attack of my own. He caught my kick to his head - it was far too slow - and tossed me across the sands of the arena. He settled upon me before I could roll to my feet, blocked my fists, grabbed my wrists, and pinned them too. I thumped a foot against the ground, surrendering to what was, perhaps, the inevitable.
From his position atop me, his tail curled powerfully between my legs, cocooning my crotch. His right hand released my wrist, slowly wrapping around my collared throat, so I could feel the exquisite prick of each of his claws poised above a windpipe or artery. His snakelike head descended slowly and he pressed his hard lips to mine, spreading them and flicking his tongue into my mouth. Thick and forked, he conquered my tongue with his just as he conquered my body, pressing me into the sand, flicking down my throat.
It was over too quickly. Jelaryn, my Master, pulled me up and carried me to the baths. In the manner of such things, Grush served me in the bath, lathering me first, then oiling and scraping me. I performed the same duty for my Master, as well. Jelaryn was pleased with my ministrations, his penis and balls descending from within as is the manner of Theysia, thick and strongly formed like the rest of him. Soon enough, we were in the bunkhouse for the night.
"Your skill has pleased me, my little bed-warmer. So, you shall have a treat. Grush, get over here."
Grush looked about, but he knew what the punishment would be if he failed to obey. The onlookers watched, ready to intervene if necessary, clearly enjoying every quaver in his step as he came to the bunk. Jelaryn, through me, ordered him onto the bunk, on his hands and knees, and had me stroke his body, my possession, oiled from the bath. Hairy, tusked, and snouted; strong, but helpless; Jelaryn bent me over him and slid me into him. He grasped and pushed, and indeed grunted like a stuck pig.
Then Jelaryn mounted me, and what I felt upon taking Grush as mine multipled a hundredfold. Jelaryn was still warm from the heated back, but quickly absorbed even more heat from me; he worked his cock in and out until he pressed it completely in up to the hilt. His tail wrapped itself around my balls, and he began pistoning into me, mechanically, his scaled belly pressing on my back, his every thrust and retreat sliding me into and out of Grush's tight slave ass. Grush labored under our weight, gasping from my cock filling him. Jelaryn sensed my first orgasm, and slid forward, pinioning me, pressing his balls against my ass and making sure that I was completely engulfed by Grush. I exploded, filling Grush, my rectum spasming and gripping around my Master's cock, his weight securely pinning me to the back of my slave, my struggles meaningless. I felt Jelaryn's cock harden to it's full length in me, and when I was spent, he again began pumping into my tightly gripping ass, relishing my moans and struggles beneath him. His tail squeezing my balls and his pumping me into Grush quickly had me hard again, and I lost track of how long I labored beneath my Master that night, his oiled cock sliding in, completely filling me, and then retreating.
Grush's ass, wet and filled with oil and come, still gripped me as I was pounded into it, gradually faster and faster. My Master's tail squeezed me tight, and for the second time I exploded, under my Master's control as my gripping sent him over the edge as well. Jelaryn pumped hotly into me at length, enjoying my struggles in orgasm beneath his weight, the pleasure he allowed me ultimately serving him. Finally, his orgasm and mine completed, he worked his softening cock in and out of my come-filled rectum as long as he could, using its soft, flexible thickness to take pleasure from his slave for as long as he was able.
Grush cleaned me with his tongue while I did the same for my Master, my head between his sleek thighs, inhaling his reptilian musk. Grush left the bed, and Jelaryn lay me upon my back, again to explore my throat with his tongue. Through the night, Jelaryn lay atop me, using me to warm his bed.
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