Date: Fri, 29 Jul 2011 19:00:02 -0700 (PDT)
From: Bob Archman <bldhrymn@yahoo.com>
Subject: Gladiator Charm School

Gladiator's Charm School 1
By Bald Hairy Man

This is a story for adult men. It depicts gay sex.  If this offends or
bothers you, DO NOT READ IT. It is a fantasy and is not a sex manual, or a
discussion of safe sex. If you have, any comments send them to
bldhrymn@yahoo.com

My nearest neighbor, Celer Publianus, ran a gladiatorial school from his
large and impressive villa.  It was among the finest villas in southern
Italy. Of course, the school wasn't in the villa itself. It was a
prison-like barracks hidden in a wooded area to the rear.  He was most
successful.

Celer had many villas in Italy and elsewhere in the Empire. Most produced
food for the thriving cities of the empire. The Gladiatorial School was a
hobby, but for Celer, everything he touched turned to gold, even his
hobbies.

Gladiators were the rage of the times.  He trained many heroes of the
Arena. Of course, for each hero there were dozens of unsuccessful
gladiators. Some, of course were sacrificed to sate the blood lust of the
crowds, but gladiators were expensive, and had value as slaves, bodyguards
and thugs. My neighbor, Celer Ruffinus, was a sensible man. If there was a
way to make money on his men, he made it.

I am Tertius Maser, and I tended to get his discards. Some men send the
used gladiators to the arenas to feed the wild animals or fill a burning
ship in a nautical battle.  Celer didn't want to pay for feeding them, but
he didn't want them dead. The big money was in the arena, and the rental
business was more work than treasure.

He sold them to me at nominal cost.  This paid off for him in good
will. His young, healthy gladiators appreciated not being killed by animals
or burned alive after a long period of service.

The bodyguard rental business wasn't particularly profitable for me. The
older gladiators looked strong, but big men willing to protect a patron
were easily available. I found another use for my men that generated more
rewards for me and the Gladiators.

Even damaged Gladiators were fine physical specimens. Most of the residents
of Rome were poor, and underfed.  In contrast, the life of leisure of the
patrician class left most of upper class men lethargic weaklings.  The
wives of these patricians were particularly prone to enjoy the company of
gladiators. These crude, beaten up men were all man, and many women enjoyed
being bedded, plowed and seeded by a former gladiator.

There was a problem. Several women bought their favorite bedmates from me.
I was not of an elevated rank and couldn't say no; thus I lost my some of
best Gladiators at a low price. I hardly need to say my gladiators had no
problem exchanging a life of the sword for a life of the cock. In the long
term however, I made more renting them out than selling them.

Some women discovered the advantages of rentals. You had more variety in
man meat, and you didn't have a half-civilized Gladiator in the house.  The
cock that satisfied the matron of the house could also satisfy her
daughters and the servant girls. You would be surprised at the matrons who
spent hours riding a gladiatorial cock, but were unhappy when their
fourteen-year-old daughter had the same passion.  Still many wanted a fully
functioning man around the house. The gladiators didn't seem to care one
way or the other. As one of my oldest friends, Publius said, "They rarely
look at the faces."

Fortunately, I found another market for my gladiators. Officially, Roman's
had disdain for Greek ways and habits. Romans always believed victory
belonged to the strong and defeat was an indicator of weakness. The entire
Greek world was under Roman control, a clear indicator of the weakness of
the Greeks.

Roman's always snickered at the Greek taste for sex between
men. Officially, Romans regarded sex as necessary for producing heirs and
nothing else. We Roman's are a utilitarian people and tended to regard sex
used for enjoyment as a waste of effort. Our doctors tell us man's seed was
limited and not replaceable, thus, it was important to save our seed for
procreative needs.

I personally am firmly of the belief that man seed is continuously produced
and does not run out. In my fifty years, I have seen no sign my seed is
running out.  While we snicker at Greek love, many indulge in it. For most
men, especially in the Army and in the large labor camps, men are more
available, and more willing. Men do not have enraged fathers, or a family
bent on saving their virtue.  Men are often more enthusiastic in my
opinion. Men do not have babies either, or want to get married, thus sex
with men has fewer complications.

I was a poor man who married an older, wealthy widow. My wife, Flavia, was
a jealous and suspicious woman who believed other women were planning to
steal me from her. I discovered the joys of man sex as an alternative.  For
me sex with men was pure enjoyment without the problems of jealousy, or the
threat of pregnancy. While my wife was well beyond childbearing years, the
servant girls weren't. I was strictly faithful to her with respect to other
women. Flavia eventually died, leaving me her fortune.  It didn't approach
Celer's massive hoard, but was more than adequate for me.

Romans assumed male sexual relations were between an older man and younger
boys, following the Greek model. I had no interest in boys. Mature men
excite me. With adult men, there was no whimpering about your cock not
fitting the ass, no squeamishness about lapping up another man's seed. It
was easy sex without complications. I could frolic with mature men and no
one guessed I was doing it, or criticized me.

I also discovered much to my surprise and everyone's pleasure that I was
stimulated by both fucking and getting fucked as well as sucking and being
sucked.  I discovered a simple truth: a cock is a cock.  The patrician's
cock works the same as a plebeian's cock.  Both could open my ass and send
me to the stars.

Many men had a taste for man sex, although they liked to keep this taste
quiet. This proved to be important. I discovered the market of wealthy and
powerful men for sex with gladiators.  They were willing to pay well for
the pleasure, especially if it was secret. Gladiators were the heroes of
our times and patrician men were fascinated with the thought of sex with a
crude barbarian Hercules.  The gladiators were big, muscular fighting
men. Most clients knew they were out matched in any athletic competition.
For an hour, they would be the gladiator's sex slave. They would serve
rather than be served.

To meet this need I realized I should train the gladiators to give maximum
pleasure to my clients. My fighting men were not skilled in the niceties of
sex. To some extent that was good.  Most of my clients wanted to be used
and possessed by my burly fighters. However, they did not want to have the
experience over in the blink of an eye. I had to train my men to take it
slow and make it last.  While the client would be plowed by the gladiator,
it had to be good enough for the client to come back and use my services
again. While I had servants and some retired fighting trainers, I had to do
the sexual training personally.

My discovery of the market for sex with my gladiators was quite
unexpected. A noted Senator, Julius Balba, came to me enraged when he found
his wife had purchased a sexual playmate from me. I was not entirely sure
if it was the sexual aspect of the relationship, or the purchase price of
the gladiator that offended him.  Whatever it was, he was enraged.

By using conciliatory words and considerable wine, I got him to calm
down. The Corsican Cheetah, one of my gladiators served the wine. The
Corsican Cheetah was the gladiator's name from the arena where he wore an
elaborate headdress of Cheetah skins with a matching cloth. The Corsican
Cheetah had been one of the great heroes of the arena five years earlier.
He broke his leg and was crippled, thus ending his career. He had been a
favorite of Julius' and he was pleased to see the man was still alive.

By this point in my life, all my servants were male and most were former
gladiators. As I live in southern Italy, it was hot and the men customarily
went naked in the house. This was cool and made it difficult to hide
weapons if one was a disgruntled servant.  Unlike the Greeks who thought
nothing of nudity, most Romans found it shocking outside of the baths. This
titillated Julius.

Of course, Julius had never seen the Corsican Cheetah naked before.  When
he saw my man's impressive endowment, I saw him casting longing glances at
the Corsican Cheetah's privates. Corsi and I were playmates and he knew
what those glances meant. He was always up for some fun. While he had a bad
limp, he could have used his cock to replace the leg in an emergency.  It
was a beauty. It responded to Julius' interest.

"It is such a hot day; perhaps a trip to the baths would be refreshing?" I
suggested to Julius. He glanced at Corsi. "My slave can prepare it for us,"
I added. Julius liked that idea. We went to my baths. My baths was small,
large enough for only ten or twelve men, but it was well appointed. I had a
walled in garden area next to it designed as a wrestling court. This opened
on the bath itself.

Julius and I were wearing only loincloths as we entered the baths. He
admired the wrestling court and told me he had enjoyed wrestling as a
youth. He said he had wrestled in the Greek style. I said I had enjoyed the
same.

"I'm afraid I rarely won, but I was able to lose gracefully." I said.

"The punishment for losing was steep," Julius said. He winked at me.  I
knew what he referred too.

I laughed. "I'm afraid I lost so many times, I had no problem with the
punishment," I added.

"Did you ever lose to a man as big as the Cheetah?" Julius asked. He was
looking directly at the Cheetah's genitals. He was a burly, very hairy
man. His hairless love tube stood out against the hairy body. His organ was
semi-erect.

"I did, but not until more recently. As the Cheetah is now a cripple we are
more evenly matched than would have been the case when he was whole," I
said. "He still wins."

"Do you and can you take it?" Julius asked incredulously. I nodded.

"Of course he is a slave, but why wrestle if you can only win? I hate it
when the weakly son of a Procurator appears in the arena and defeats a
gigantic Goth without effort. Yes it is the Procurator's birthday, but I
feel cheated," I said. "I can and have taken it."

"I would enjoy seeing you wrestling with him," Julius said. He looked
around the room. "It is a private place here.  If you were to lose I would
never tell anyone."  I knew what he wanted to see. He was no longer
complaining about his wife's purchase.

I stripped. Corsi and I had a quick but convincing match. Corsi was trained
in Greek wresting so it wasn't a crude, free-for all like the barbarian
matches.  I lost as usual and soon I was on my back on a marble bench with
Corsi's oiled cock poking at my hole. Julius was fully erect now.

Julius got on his knees so he would watch Corsi's cock enter my ass from a
close vantage point. Both he and I moaned as the massive slave cock popped
through my ass ring and slid in deep. Julius was almost as excited as I
was.  After a considerable work out, Corsi pulled out. I asked Julius if he
wanted to feel the gladiator's cock in his ass. I knew the answer he wanted
to give, but didn't know if he would say it. He might pretend to be
uninterested.

I know men do that, but it is so hard to pretend you are uninterested when
you are fully erect. Julius nodded. He took my place on the bench. I told
Corsi to take his time, and ease it in.  Sometimes my idea of slow and easy
wasn't his. There was some hesitation at the hole, but soon the Cheetah's
organ was in as deep as it could go. Julius was on Mount Olympus with the
gods.

The gladiator thrust hard and deep, and Julius moaned with each thrust. I
watched Julius's asshole quiver in anticipation, and then saw him relax as
Corsi pushed. I realized Julius was experienced and many a cock must have
popped through his hole. He took the huge organ easily. Corsi was both
large and skilled in the sexual arts.  Soon Julius was twitching and
shivering on the Gladiatorial pole.

"Fill me up!" Julius cried. Since Corsi's pubic hairs touched Julius' ass I
knew he wanted the gladiator's man seed.  Corsi gave it to him. When he
finally pulled out of Julius' ravaged hole, his man seed drooled from
Julius' ass and splattered on the floor of the bath. Julius seemed
embarrassed as he left. Most men don't like to be seen in the throes of
extreme passion. I proceeded as if it were the most ordinary thing in the
world.

Several days later, I got a message from Julius asking if I could provide
some entertainment for some special friends Julius invited to his country
villa.  He asked for the Corsican Cheetah and other men who shared the
Cheetah's skills. He said the party was to be private and intimate. He
offered me an impressive fee for the service. I was stunned at the amount.

The party was to be in two weeks, and I had my work cut out for me. Corsi
was my most domesticated gladiator. They others could be rough and crude. I
wanted them to be just rough and crude enough, but no brutal.

I had thirty slaves but many were purely domestic or farm slaves. I looked
at my former gladiators. The Corsican Cheetah's best friends were the
British Bruin and the Ethiopian Elephant.  My friend, Celer liked names of
foreign places and exotic animals.  Roman's like the exotic and were
usually pleased when a foreigner met his match in the arena.

I had a smaller man known as the Persian Panther, and a big German called
the

Chieftain. I had no idea if he was a Chieftain; he spoke little Latin. Four
in addition to Corsi would be enough, but I added one more, man they called
the Danube Donkey. He appeared in comic interludes at the games, between
the slaughters. He was an odd-looking man, but had a huge penis.  That
would be amusing at a party for special friends.

The British Bruin was a fine looking, big man with copper hair and a
massive beard. He was all but blind with one eye missing and the other
clouded over. The Ethiopian was a spectacular Nubian with a monster
organ. The blow to his head left him dimwitted. Celer was a hardheaded
businessman, so there was no reason not to have killed either man to
provide additional gore for the crowd. He was oddly kind to save these
men. There was whispering that Celer was a member of some Eastern cult and
he had a problem killing the maimed.

The Persian Panther was a slight, small man.  Normally small men survive
only a week or two in the area, but he befriended the Bruin and the
Ethiopian.  They protected him.  Now he helped them.  He was from Palestine
and was a Jew, not a Persian. His cock was clipped and thus his cock head
was continually exposed. Most Romans found this exotic.

The German was a blond giant with one arm. He looked like a barbarian
chieftain of the sort that Roman mothers scared their children. The Danube
Donkey looked like a man in the way a camel looks like a horse. The parts
didn't seem to match. At some point during his comic performances, his cock
would slip out of his loincloth and cause considerable merriment in the
arena. It was long and floppy. He had a bad leg that sometimes failed to
support him. The Donkey spoke some of the German languages and could talk
to the blond chieftain.

Having a Nubian, a blonde-haired person and a red headed man would be
exciting for Julius' guests.  Romans love novelty, since they are
universally black haired and olive skinned. None of my men were virgins and
none had any qualms about sex. Any new gladiator in a gladiatorial school
would soon know the feel of the older men's cocks in their asses. Sometimes
it was punishment for an error, other times a reward for doing
well. Eventually it was just what you did during a long dark night.

Historically speed was the characteristic of these couplings. That was not
what I was after. Fortunately, I had trained Corsi, so I had some idea of
how to get them to slow down. I had also introduced him to the small
pleasure nut inside his ass. Corsi tended to be impassive and stoic until I
massaged the nut. He moaned as I rubbed it. I also discovered that his cock
juices began to flow when I played with it.

I originally felt it was wiser to leave the Gladiators alone, except of
course for the Corsican Cheetah. He excited me greatly, and we get along
well. While I owned the other men, they were grateful for me taking them
rather than having them die a horrible death, but I didn't want to stretch
my luck too far.

We explained my plan to them.  The Nubian and German didn't understand, but
the Bruin, the Persian and the Donkey were more than willing. Their
interest spread to the Nubian and German. The British Bruin was
enthusiastic.  His cock was thicker than it was long, a butt plug. He was a
crude but happy fucker who enjoyed the task. He was nervous the first time
he fucked me, but once he was in my ass, he let nature take its course.

I started my training with the German. The German was the most difficult of
the men, so I began with him. I began by sucking his cock. This was good
for him, of course. I then oiled my fingers and began to play with his
ass. He wasn't sure about this, but as I was still sucking him, he didn't
object.

By the time, he was ready to object I had a finger on each side of his nut
and he couldn't object to anything. He was in Valhalla or where ever
Germans go to feel divine pleasure. After that, I oiled his cock and sat on
it. He had never been in my ass before. I slowly skewered myself on his
cock, taking my time and savoring the sensation. I used my tight ass
muscles to play with his organ.

The German normally didn't fuck men; he raped them.  I showed him a new
way. Later, when he tried to rape me Corsi held him back and made him slow
down some. Again, my ass muscles played with his member as it probed my
insides. The chieftain understood what I wanted.

The Bruin easily understood the new way to fuck and appreciated it. His
cock was difficult to take due to its thickness. The Ethiopian would do
anything he was told. His cock was long and touched virgin places in my
ass. The Bruin's thick organ was harder to take than the Nubian's length. I
managed both. The Panther was easy to take and fun.

For two weeks, we worked every day from dawn to dusk, improving the
gladiators' sexual skills. It was exhausting for me, but the gladiators had
no problems at all. Sex has a way of teaching itself. The first few days
were rough on me. While I enjoy sex, I had three sessions a day with the
five men. Every lesson involved my ass and their cocks. The gladiators wore
me out.

Many slave owners make sexual use of their property as a matter of
course. Most slaves are subservient and obedient and one always has a
brawny overseer nearby in case things go wrong. With retired gladiators,
it's difficult if not impossible to find an overseer brawnier than the
slaves.

The Ethiopian had no idea what was going on, but liked to fuck. His cock
was very long, but comparatively thin. The Chieftain was puzzled, but one
he found out he was to be the fucker and not to be fucked he warmed up to
the task. He was a particularly brutal man, but a warm and tight ass
caressing his impressive organ seemed to mellow him. The Persian had an
average cock, and was no problem at all.

The last man to fuck me in each session was the Danube Donkey. My ass was
abused and sore by the time it was his turn. He had a long cock with a big
cock head bulge. He was long, but his foreskin was longer. I had never seen
him erect. The donkey was ugly. His body disobeyed every rule of classical
beauty. It was hard to believe the statues of Apollo or Hermes were the
same species.

As I said, he reminded me of a camel.  His almost shaggy body hair was
camel colored too; that increased the resemblance.  Erect, his cock head
bulge was a monster mushroom; an oversized battering ram.  It looked as if
it could be used to batter down city gates, not to mention tender and
abused assholes. I wasn't enthusiastic about taking his cock, but I figured
I might as well get it over. I had already sampled the beautiful and manly
organs of oversexed gladiators. The donkey dong would be a letdown.

By the time he pulled out some time later, I knew the Danube Donkey was a
master of the sexual arts. His crude cock was a perfect fit for my ass and
he knew every good spot, every trick that could drive me to crazy sexual
ecstasy.

The gladiators had filled my ass with their rich man seed and this
lubricated me well, but the Donkey was a wonder. I should have been
embarrassed at my display of passion and abject willingness to so anything
he wanted, but the pleasure was too great. I think most of them had
experienced his way with his cock and they understood what I felt.