Date: Sun, 6 Mar 2005 00:14:46 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Spoils Of War, Part 13

THE SPOILS OF WAR  by Pete Brown.  petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

Read all of Pete's stories in
groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories

Part 13

The guy standing there was different, though:  he was
wearing a tweed jacket, a cotton shirt, cord pants,
and thick, expensive looking shoes in dark brown.

"Ah, Spike, isn't it?   Yes... I recognise you from
last night.  Really good fight.... You've got what it
takes to go right to the top, I think.  I've already
placed bets on your next fight, before others think
about it, and I believe I'll clean up."

I looked at him, and didn't know what to say.  Was he
a slave, or not?  He didn't look like one, as I've
said, and his way of speaking was odd, too - then I
realised he was speaking with an English accent.

"Right, Spike.  Don't just stand there.  Close the
door, and let's get started.  We're going to have a
lot of fun, I hope, this morning... You Americans can
be really good and a lot of fun, once we've overcome
your silly inhibitions - and you've got a really nice
body, if I may say so.  So why don't you strip off,
and let me see all of you - I was tantalised all last
night  as I watched you fight, trying to guess what
that little silk scrap concealed, so shuck those
clothes, there's a good chap, and don't keep me in
suspense any longer."

"Please... Are you a slave...."

"No!  They hire me to give these lessons - we British
are better at it than you Americans are.  We don't
have the guilt, you know.  And it's been a bit of a
tradition for hundreds of years - well, at our famous
boarding schools, at least.  That's where I learned
it.  Not that they pay me much to come here and teach
you chaps.  Well, I suppose I'd probably pay them, if
they asked. I mean, not every man gets to enjoy you
fighters at first hand, so to speak....."

His words were coming in a torrent, the phrases almost
falling over each other.  He wasn't nervous, it just
seemed to be his natural way of speaking.  I continued
to stand there, and he went on   "So come on, Spike -
don't keep me waiting, there's a good chap - take off
that ridiculous singlet:  In my country, it's so very
working class to wear something like that anyway.  And
drop the shorts - you haven't got anything to be
ashamed of, I'll bet...."

What the fuck was he going on about, "working class"?
I still just stood there, and his voice hardened.
"Now, Spike, I'm not used to being ignored!  I
wouldn't tolerate one of my servants at home not
obeying me, and I certainly won't accept it from
slave!  So get naked, there's a good fellow, so I can
decide where we're going to start."

He half turned away from me, as if he was perfectly
certain that I was now going to do as I was told, and
did as he'd asked, pulling the singlet thing (which I
now knew was "working class", whatever that was!) over
my head, and dropping my shorts o the floor.  Without
thinking,  I "fluffed out" my dick from where it was
stuck to my balls, and just stood there.

"Oh Spike, pick those things up and fold them, there's
a good chap!  I can't bear untidiness, with clothes
strewn around everywhere.  Nanny never let me do that
as a child!  'Master James', she'd say, 'You just pick
up your things, like a good little boy.  And save
Nanny's strength, little man.'  And it's a habit
that's lasted all my life - can't bear mess, cant
stand untidiness... So clear your things up, old
chap..."

I felt almsot foolish, bending down and feeling my
dick and balls swinging as I retrieved my clothes an
stood there folding them, watched by this curious
stranger, dressed so formally, almsot eccentrically.
Somehow it's different being naked when you're with
clothed guys, isn't it?

"Right, Spike!  And you are magnificent, believe me, I
know, I've seen enough of you boys to be an expert!
Now, help me undress, there's a good chap...."

He slipped his jacket off and handed it to me, and I
stood there, looking at it.  What the fuck was I
supposed to do now?

"Fold it neatly, Spike, there's a good chap.  And put
it over there in the corner, where it will be out of
our way."

I did as he said, too surprised to do anything else, I
think, feeling the scratchy wool of the rough tweed
all over my chest as I folded the jacket.  I then
watched as he hopped awkwardly from foot to foot, as
you do, unlacing the brown leather shoes and pulling
his socks off, which he tucked neatly into the shoes,
then handed them to me - nodding over to the corner,
where his jacket lay.

He undid his pants and let them drop, then kind of
hooked them up with one foot, and simply handed them
to me.  I stood and watched him as he unbuttoned his
shirt, then again handed it to me, just as if I was
some sort of servant.  I put all these things in the
corner, too, and came back to the centre of the room
to watch as he slid his boxers to the floor - the were
in plain white cotton, with little union jacks on
them, and he handed them to me as if it was the most
normal thing in the world to expect another guy to
take charge of your underwear!

He had a nice body - not strong and muscular, like
mine, but he was by no means fat.  There was a small
thatch of hair on his chest, which led to a faint
treasure trail down to what I can only describe as
"normal" pubes, which made no attempt to conceal a
long-ish dick, and very low-hanging balls.    He was a
couple of inches taller than me, I suppose, and this
height seemed to emphasise how thin he was.

"Right, Spike.  Let's start...."

"Start what, .....sir?"

"Oh let's not be formal, Spike.  You can just call me
James.  Everyone does.  Except Nanny, and she's always
called me master Jamie, but that's all in the past.
James to you, Spike. So let's get started, shall we?"

"Start what, .... James?"

"Oh, didn't they tell you.  How silly of them.  I'm a
specialist trainer hired to teach you sex.  You've
been selected for the second channel, didn't they tell
you?"

"Yes."

"Well you'll know then that you have to be able to put
on a good show.... It's not just the fighting they pay
all those monthly fees to receive... And a lot of you
guys are simply hopeless!  No idea!  No idea at all!
So the Colonel had the brilliance to hire proper
training, just as he does for fighting.  Very clever
man, the Colonel - no wonder Gleeson's Gladiators is
so successful."

He was running on again, the words tumbling out.  So I
interrupted "But what sort of a show...."

"You haven't seen it?  You don't know...?"

"No."

"Well, on the second channel, you always 'fight to the
fuck'.  They used to say that the show wasn't over
until the fat lady sings.  Well, on the second
channel, the fight isn't over until one of the
fighters has fucked the other - that 's the way the
audience knows that one guy is totally and utterly
defeated.  And it's no good putting up a good fight,
and winning, if you're really useless at fucking,  is
it?  So that's why I'm here -  I see all the new
gladiators who have been selected for the second
channel, and teach them how to do the last few minutes
of the match with the same style and dedication that
they've done the first part.  It all matters, you know
- the viewers aren't just paying to see two men pound
each other into submission - they want to see really
classy action when it comes to the fucking!"

"You can't be serious..."

"Oh Spike, why not?  Did you ever think that you'd be
a slave, fighting other slaves as a spectator sport?
So why do you think it's unusual to take it further,
make the fighting really serious, and have a
spectacular ending to the bout?  It's only natural,
after all - every man secretly wants to beat every
other one so that he can fuck him!  That's what human
evolution has given us - men need to win, to dominate,
and to show their dominance by having the other man
totally submit to them.  And what better way to show
total submission, than to fuck the guy, especially
when he's lost out in a fight and is totally unable to
resist?"

I stood there, shocked.  It was all starting to make
sense now, the whispers and hints I'd heard.  But
there was something wrong about what James was saying,
something that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

"No, that can't be right.....   not all men want to
fuck other men..."

"Yes they do, Spike.  It's only natural.  Think about
it - in the dawn of man, a woman would always be
pregnant and a man wouldn't be able to satisfy himself
for quite long periods.  And the men went away from
the village for long periods, hunting.  So what would
be more natural than to have sex with another man?
It's just that our silly veneer of civilisation, and
the lies put around by the churches in particular,
that have obscured all this.  In a way, you going out
there into the arena and fighting an opponent until
he's overpowered, and then fucking him, is just
reverting to the way nature intended things to happen.
 They weren't so stupid in Greek and Roman times, I'll
tell you - captured prisoners were truly spoils of
war, and were used by the victorious armies as slaves
and sex objects.  We're only just getting back to
basics now, in this current war.  Now, let's start.
Get down on your knees...."

"What?"

"Spike, I don't like to remind you of this, but you
are a slave.  And I am a free man.  And if you persist
in disobedience, I can order you to be caned, or
flogged.  There's a guard listening to the sounds in
this room via a microphone, and I only have to call
out, and that will be that.  Now, I sense that , like
a lot of men of your class, you're embarrassed about
sex.  So I'm here to teach you - you have lessons in
fighting, don't you, and you don't think anything
about that?  Well, this is a lesson is sex, as I said,
so that you perform as well at the end of the bout as
you do during it.  So on your knees, there's a good
chap - let's make this as much fun for each of us as
we can, without the need for any punishments...."

"James, what is all this, this 'class'.... And why are
you here, an Englishman?"

"Spike, I hope this isn't a delaying tactic, because
it won't work, you know.  But I'll tell you anyway -
you're like a lot of the young men that I go with in
England:  you went to an ordinary school, don't do all
that well, and leave early.  Then you got some sort of
job that doesn't require much skill,  or go into the
armed forces for a short time - no as an officer, of
course,  until you got bored, then they come out and
get what you Americans call 'blue collar' jobs,
working as labourers or what have you.  And the whole
culture in the lower ranks of the forces, and on
construction sites, and so on is of rampant
heterosexuality - boasting to the other men about the
women you've shagged.  And any man who dares to
mention that he likes proper sex, sex with another
man, gets beaten up or constantly harassed.  For the
upper classes it's all different, of course: at my
private school - we call  them public schools, but you
Americans find that confusing - it's been the
tradition of centuries that older boys take their
pleasure with the younger ones.  And many Englishmen
in the moneyed and professional classes simply marry
for convenience, to produce an heir or two to keep the
family name going, but take their pleasure with other
men.  Indeed, it's quite the done thing in the circles
in which I move to 'have a bit of rough on the side',
as we call it - one of these working men, with hard,
strong bodies, who are only too keen to have a little
uninhibited proper sex in exchange for a drink, a
dinner, or even a few pounds."

"So we get very experienced at 'breaking in' young
working-class chaps like you - poorly educated, but
nice strong bodies.  And it's not so hard - you
respect us and are used to being ordered around
(especially if you've been in the armed forces, rather
than just labouring).  So I do this as a little hobby,
really - when I'm over here in the USA,  I telephone a
number of my contacts and I can always find someone
with a new slave who needs educating properly.  Us
British are used to gong to far-flung parts of the
world and educating the natives, you know - and all
I'm doing is following a long tradition."

"But enough of this, Spike: I don't want to have to
call out and get the guards in here.  So get down on
your knees, there's a good chap, and let's get
started....."

I didn't know if he was joking!  I mean, it sounded so
bizarre.  But there was something about his manner
that said he was sincere.  And he had that air of
authority about him that comes from a lifetime of
being used to being obeyed - I'd met it before with
those officers who are from army families, who go
through West Point and all that shit.   They just have
an attitude that doesn't allow for any argument or
debate:  authority is somehow built in to them.
Almost without knowing why, I lowered myself to my
knees, clasped my hands behind my back, as that seemed
to be the "right" thing to do, and waited to see what
would happen.

James came and stood right in front of me, so that his
dick was almost in my face.  "Good boy, Spike", he
whispered, lowering his voice in that way that somehow
seemed to make the bleak, empty room somehow more
private. "Now we'll start nice and slowly....  I want
you to get the proper scent of me, then, when you're
comfortable with it, you can use that strong tongue of
yours to start to lick me and get the proper taste of
a man's dick...."

As he said this he put his hands around my head and
gently but firmly, in a way that brooked no
resistance, pulled my head down into his crotch.  His
wiry pubic hair scratched gently at my face, and as my
nose nestled into the warm moistness of his dick and
sac, I caught the smell of him -  a rich, exotic scent
of what was presumably a very expensive soap, but
overlaid on that was something else:  warm and musky
and exciting and totally male.  I felt his dick begin
to stir as it went from its flaccid state to being
semi-hard, and almost as if in response, I knew that I
too was getting erect.  This was madness!  Here I was,
getting turned on by another man's dick and the smell
of his masculinity:  I wasn't like that!  I mean,
fucking a guy when you really need to, as I had done
in almsot in spite of myself,  is one thing; but being
turned on my just the feel of another man's dick
against you is quite another.

His firm grip continued to hold my head close to him.
Of course I could have pulled away - it might have
meant being punished, but there was no way that this
lanky Englishman could stop my hard, powerful body if
I chose to move.  But somehow I didn't - I stayed
there, breathing in his scent and rubbing my nose
backwards and forwards all over his crotch.  He
continued to get erect, and this somehow seemed to
excite me even more - I knew I was now also fully
boned, and the feeling of his dick against my face was
like nothing I had ever felt before:  the warmth of
it, the velvety softness of the skin on his dick, and
yet, underlying all that, the iron-like hardness of
his erection.   I half sighed, half moaned, and I
heard him encourage me.  "Good boy, Spike.... That's
good, isn't it.... Now why don't you put that tongue
of yours out and taste me....?"

To my surprise, I found myself doing as he'd said.  I
ran my tongue lightly and experimentally along the
smooth, hard shaft of his dick, then kind of probed
around at the root of it, poking in and out of the
join with his sac and savouring that special taste of
the sweat that is always there - I'd read somewhere
that there are more sweat glands down there than
anywhere else on the body, and that they are
responsible for the male pheromones:  well, now I knew
what it had been going on about - I was tasting the
essence of his manhood.

James' firm hands pushed my head away from him after a
little while, then, as  I looked up at him, wondering
why, he used one hand to grip the root of his dick and
position it so that the head - which had come out from
its protective foreskin and was glistening with
moistness - was just in front of my lips.    I pushed
my head back, not difficult to do in spite of the
pressure of his hand - and muttered "No, please...."

"Yes, Spike.  You need a thorough training, and it's
better to begin at the beginning, with you learning to
enjoy a man's cock.  Now be a good chap, and take me
into your mouth...."

He didn't give me time to argue, and he expected
obedience.  As he pulled me forward again I did indeed
open my mouth, and felt his flange push my lips apart.
 "Careful with the teeth, Spike!", he said softly.
"Open wide, and take me right in...."

He stopped with his dick head just inside my mouth,
and cautiously I probed at it with my tongue, somehow
actually enjoying the slightly salt taste of the
moistness of it.  I could actually sense his piss
slit, and although I thought that I ought to have been
revolted, I found myself almost liking it.  It was as
if my body knew instinctively what to do - I kept my
teeth apart but clamped my lips shut around his shaft,
and began to rock my head backwards and forwards,
allowing his dick to almsot come out of my mouth, then
slide back in again.

"Good boy, Spike.  Good boy....", he crooned, and
somehow this sign of his approval spurred me on:  I
began to suck at him more vigorously, my own spit
sliding down onto my chin as I did so, and I heard
myself making little moans of enjoyment.

He stopped me then, and pulled his dick right out.
"Good, Spike.  Very good progress for a man whose
records say he hasn't sucked cock before.... Or have
you been practising, with some of your room mates?"

"No, James!  I don't suck dick..."

"You mean you used not to, Spike!  You do now..... And
it wasn't so bad, was it?  Indeed, I think we're
making such good progress that we might go all the
way.... But I'll go easily the first time.... I take
it you haven't actually tasted cum, apart from your
own?   Well, with you boys I suppose it's always worth
checking - you have tasted at least your own cum,
haven't you?"

Well, I had, as I guess all guys do.  Just after you
start jerking off, you're tempted to try it, aren't
you?  I can remember now how I felt, lying there in my
bed at home, breathing hard after I'd jerked off, then
bringing my cum-filled hand up to my mouth and
gingerly putting out my tongue to taste it.... But I'd
never repeated the experience.  And of course I'd
never even dreamed of having to take another guy's
cum.

"Yes.... Well, no.....", I muttered uneasily,

James' hand stroked the side of my face, as if he was
comforting me.  "Don't worry, Spike!  I've had lots of
first-timers, like you.... And, believe me, it will be
all right.  Now you're not afraid, are you?  A big guy
like you - you're not afraid of a few drops of cum?
Tell me, Spike, if you're afraid - are you scared of
what's going to happen?"

Well, I couldn't admit to being scared, could I?  I
mean, I was a marine - or had been, until they'd made
me a slave.  And anyway, a man never tells another man
he's scared, does he?  So I kind of mumbled "No way.
Of course I'm not scared."

"Good, Spike.  So put out your tongue, and just stay
still.  Close your eyes, if you want, and let me do
all the work...."

I did as he said, and felt really stupid kneeling
there with my tongue lolling out.  I couldn't close my
eyes - I mean, you need to know what's happening to
you, don't you?  He stood there, resting the tip of
his dick on my tongue, and stroking himself to a
climax with his long, thin fingers.  It only took a
few moments, I suppose, as he was evidently very
aroused from having me lick at him earlier.  I got a
salty taste of "something" - oh no, it must be his
pre-cum.... And instinctively I went to pull away, but
his hands went around my head, he pulled me suddenly
close to him so that his dick slid into my mouth, and
I felt it fell with something.

He let go, and I pulled away, and my mouth was full of
his cum.  I could taste that "nothing" taste, faintly
sweet, faintly salt.  My nose was full of its vaguely
ammoniacal smell, though, and as I half-wretched  and
gagged, and my tongue moved around in my mouth I felt
it's slimy stickiness covering my teeth and gums.  I
knelt there, not knowing what to do.  James pulled my
head down into his crotch again so that his deflating
dick was rubbing against my cheek - I could smell his
male animal scent even more strongly now, and it was
somehow reassuring.  He ran his hands lightly over my
head, encouraging me, and murmured "There, Spike...
.that wasn't so bad, was it?  Your first taste of man
cum.... See, it doesn't kill you, or anything... There
wasn't anything to be afraid of, was there?"

I felt his hands on my then, gently helping me to my
feet so that we stood facing each other.  He put his
arms around me and pulled me towards him, reaching
down to my butt and tightening his grip.  My erect
dick was forced upwards, to lie between our bellies,
and then, to my utter amazement, he leaned forward and
kissed me!  I suppose it a the shock, but I opened my
mouth, and at once his tongue darted inside and
started to beat vigorously against mine.  His cum was
now mixed with his saliva, and we stood there for what
seemed like hours, but was probably less than a
minute, kissing passionately.

He pulled away, and  I saw he was smiling.  "See,
Spike... It's only cum.  There's nothing to be worried
about.  I like to kiss a guy when his mouth is full of
my cum... And you'll get to like it, too."

"James, why.... Why are we doing this?  I thought you
were to teach me about how to behave at the end of a
bout, when I need to fuck a guy. Why have I got to
learn about eating cum, and kissing, and sucking
dick?"

"Oh Spike!  Think about it - when you were taught in
the marines to fight, did they teach you just one way,
just one set of holds?  Or did you learn how to
comprehensively overcome another man, using different
blows, different ways of doing it?"

"Yes, of course...."

"Well it's the same with me.  You need to be a 'whole
man', really able to respond to another man properly.
And you don't just need to learn how to fuck another
man, either:  you will lose, sometimes, and then you'd
better know how to take it, don't you think?  So I
like to start simple, teach you the basics, and then
we'll move on to more complex things one step at a
time.  I could just have you tied down to a punishment
frame and fuck the innards out of you,  I suppose, but
that wouldn't be much fun for either of us, would it?
No, we're going to do this calmly, one step at a time,
so that you not only learn how to do it, but to
appreciate it!"

"Now, help me dress....", he said in that commanding
way that brooked no discussion, and I went over to the
corner and began to hand him his clothes, one item at
a time.  It struck me again that I was now obeying him
almost automatically, but I was so confused:  it
wasn't just the threat of punishment, it wasn't that
he'd dumped his cum in my mouth.... It was again that
innate sense of "control" that he had.

He stood there finally, plucking at the cuffs of his
shirt so that they protruded just half an inch below
the sleeves of his jacket, then said cheerily "Right
then, Spike.  Get dressed yourself - unless you'd
prefer to give that cock of yours some relief first?"

I realised  I was still rigorously erect, and that my
dick had been bobbing up and down as I'd moved around
helping him.  I shook my head, but as I went to pull
on the tiny shorts, I almost wished I had - there was
a drool of pre-cum hanging down from my piss slit, and
I knew that it would probably show through my shorts
as I went about my business that morning.

Back in our room that night, after a lot of strenuous
exercise for the rest of the day that left me feeling
properly exhausted, I saw Lewis looking at me
inquisitively.  "So, Spike.... OK?"

"Yes, sarge."

"Lesson went well, did it?"

I felt myself blushing gently as I muttered "OK, I
guess, sarge."

"Good, Spike.  Well, if you need any practice, before
tomorrow, or after any of the lessons, we're all here
to help you, you know.... Especially me.  Do you want
to practice with me, Spike?"

I was blushing hard now.  I did want to fuck his ass,
but there was just no way that I could take his dick.
But  I could hardly say that, could I - say that I
wanted, no, needed, to fuck, after my lesson in being
used.... not with all the other guys listening and
watching.  So I just stood there, shook my head
slightly, and muttered "No, thanks, sarge.  It's OK."

Mind you, the moment I was in my bunk, I just had to
jerk off:   no waiting for "lights out" or anything, I
just went at it, just covered by the thin sheet.  And
then, experimentally and haltingly, almsot as if  I
was afraid of it, I raised my cum-filled palm to my
mouth and licked it dry.

End of Part 13