Istari

Azrael the WonderBoy

Under the bright circus lights, Azrael stood with his ten little toes curled over the edge of the platform, waving to the crowd. The twelve-year-old boy was wearing nothing but a pair of tight spandex shorts, blue and shiny, sparkling with glitter, a cute boy-bulge prominently displayed between his legs. His lithe young body glistened with sweat. He was breathing hard after his high trapeze act. Now all that remained was one final graceful leap to the ground below. With a deep breath he raised his arms above his head and jumped from the platform, curling his perfect flexible body into a blinding spin. He'd been practicing this dismount with his trainers for several weeks now and this was the first time he'd done it in a live performance. The world around him spun but he kept his eyes open as he somersaulted down toward the small waiting trampoline. The crowd was silent as the boy fell rapidly in his death-spiral. Timing was everything.

Azrael untucked his wiry young body at just the right moment, straightening his gorgeous twelve-year-old frame just seconds before his bare feet hit the trampoline dead-center. He shot back up, stretching his lean abdomen and swinging his arms for balance and control. When he came back down, he expertly collapsed his strong legs, ready for the trampoline to rebound. When it did, the boy pulled another fantastic ariel somersault and landed squarely on his feet on the soft padded mat in front of the trampoline. The crowd went nuts, snapping pictures of Azrael the WonderBoy as he pumped his fists, flexed his developing young muscles, and smiled.

Azrael was at his happiest at times like this. It made being away from home and in the care of Le Circus de la Lune worth all the hardships and homesickness and the strict discipline he had to endure when he wasn't performing. Being a star took a lot of commitment and dedication, and young Azrael was driven to succeed in spite of the somewhat unconventional techniques of his adult trainers.

Back in the staging area, as the next act was getting ready to go on, the twelve-year-old in his skimpy costume was given a quick sip of water and a congratulatory hug by one of the other performers. As the only child in the company, he did often receive special attention like this. His trainers, Ursula and Nigel patted him on the head and praised him for being so fearless, if a bit sloppy during his act. Nigel wiped down the boy's sweaty body with a soft towel, cleansing away the glittery body-paint that covered him from head to toe. Ursula meanwhile pulled his long auburn hair back into its usual pony-tail. It always managed to work itself free during Azrael's energetic and often death-defying routines.

Ursula and Nigel had been his trainers for almost two years now, ever since he'd signed on with the all-human circus. They were his family whenever the show was touring, which was ten months out of the year. Azrael saw little of his parents of younger brothers, and his weekly phone calls always left him feeling sad and lonesome. Nigel told him it was better not to think about it, so the boy focused on his routines, his tumbling, his juggling, his gymnastic acrobatics and his breathtaking high-wire skills.

Tonight, like every night when the boy's final routine was over, they led him back to the dressing room where he obediently stripped out of his costume. His penis hardened instantly to its full sweet three-inch [7½ cm] erection, but his trainers, as always, ignored his cute little misbehaving member. Azrael had grown accustomed to wearing very little and as a general rule his trainers kept him naked, or at most in a small speedo, when he wasn't on stage. Back when he was ten, during his first week with the circus, Ursula had explained to him that a boy should be proud of his cute little body, and that modesty was not a characteristic that good performers possessed. All of the clothes he'd brought with him from home were then packed up in a trunk and sent back to his family. The only clothing he had from that day on were his speedos and his many outlandish and normally skimpy costumes. Azrael was rather embarrassed back then about having to be naked while all the adult members of the company wore clothes but he'd gotten used to it.

His highly regimented life was second nature to him now and he no longer thought to question Ursula and Nigel's methods, since they always got the results all three of them wanted. He clasped his hands obediently behind his head and waited. He was as beautiful a specimen of twelve-year-old boyhood as could be. He stood four-feet-eight-inches [1.42 m] tall, weighed barely eighty-five [39 kg] pounds. He was lean and wiry and toned from head to toe. He was Mexican by birth, but of almost pure European ancestry. His white skin was tanned a golden brown, and his dark soulful eyes were pools of boyish energy and spirit. He was in tremendous physical condition, with a junior six-pack abdomen that would have been the envy of any grown man. Between his firm slender young thighs, his genitals were adorably small and childlike, with a sweet and presently erect three-inch [7½ cm] penis (which had been circumcised shortly after he'd joined the company) and a pair of plump grape-sized testicles which had just recently dropped. Left to nature, the boy would by now have had a small patch of pubic hair above that tender morsel, but his trainers kept his pubic area shaved as smooth as the rest of his hairless twelve-year-old body. Azrael had learned the hard way, in the early days of his life with the circus, never to question his trainers' decisions, and so every few days he would stand stock still, sometimes with his wrists tied behind his back, while his meager pubic hairs were shaved or plucked away.

"Now, now, my naughty little boy," Ursula chided him gently, tapping his erection rather impatiently with her finger. "You know better than that. Time for your little penis to go to sleep."

Azrael knew from long experience that Ursula had rather painful and effective ways of making his penis soft again if he couldn't manage it himself. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths and tried not to think about Nigel in his skin-tight costumes. Finally the little boy's little penis began to return to its cute flaccid innocent state, a harmless slender two-inch [5 cm] appendage between his firm muscular legs.

Azrael did not protest when Ursula fitted the tiny metal cage over his penis and locked it in place. Knowing the drill, with his small penis locked away and untouchable, Azrael now bent over and waited for Nigel to insert the butt plug. Azrael had been chastity-caged and plugged in this manner since his first night with the circus, all part of Ursula and Nigel's strict regime of physical, mental and moral training. He whimpered a bit, as he always did, as he felt the plug invade his rectum. As always, this resulted in his little penis trying to get hard, which the cage, of course, prevented. He sighed with relief once the plug was inserted all the way inside him. He stood back up and gave his trainers a shy knowing smile.

"Good boy," Nigel said, rubbing the lad's shoulders. Azrael breathed contentedly. He was always sore there after a performance and Nigel's touch always seemed to soothe him. Ursula then presented the boy with one of his many speedos - the bright red one with the words 'WonderBoy' over the backside in white letters.

Glad for the privilege of wearing clothes, such as it was, Azrael pulled them up his finely toned legs and snapped them around his waist. The outline of his penis-cage was plainly visible, a reminder to the twelve-year-old that even while clothed his boyhood was securely locked away and under the strict control of the adults who, for all practical purposes, owned him.

His final adornment was his leather collar, lined on the outside with dark blue velvet and decorated with silver studs and rings. The boy was always collared in some way when he wasn't performing, and even then he often wore this particular collar on stage. He rather liked the feel of the soft padding against his neck, and the silver studs and rings were very bright and pretty. For the next few minutes he helped Nigel and Ursula get dressed for their own performance. He had by now grown accustomed to seeing their nude forms, and went about his work with business-like efficiency, still chattering about his latest performance as he made sure his trainers' costumes looked perfect on them. However, during the last year or so, Azrael had become aware of an uncomfortable tightness within his little chastity cage whenever he saw Nigel's angular and superbly muscular body, and particularly Nigel's long thick penis, so much bigger than his little twelve-year-old willy. It was a phenomenon both Nigel and Ursula found adorably amusing, and one that was happening yet again. Covered by the tight red speedo, the boy's cock-cage was nonetheless jutting outward from his body at a rather lewd and obvious angle, indicating that the little lad's penis was once again trying to erect itself.

"Looks like our little gay boy has quite a crush on you, Nigel," Ursula said with a smile. She was not at all jealous. Azrael clearly had no interest in females, and Ursula herself was currently rather taken with one of the female stage technicians who traveled with the company. Still she enjoyed teasing her two male partners every chance she got.

Azrael for his part really didn't understand what was going on. Beyond using it to pee, he seldom gave any thought to his penis and he really had no real idea that it could be used for other things. Of course since his was kept locked in a cage all the time, he really couldn't use it for anything else. He did know that he liked the way Nigel looked, in or out of his many costumes, and he hoped one day he'd be as big and as strong as his hero.

He scampered along eagerly behind them both as they returned to the stage. Like he did every night he'd watch them perform their act from the shadows, wishing he could go back out there, always hungry for the applause and adoration of the audience.

After the show was over, and the lights had dimmed and he'd signed all the autographs he could for his adoring fans, Azrael helped his fellow performers pack up all their equipment. He was a strong little boy, and while he could not quite do the work of the older male performers, lugging boxes and crates around was by now second nature to him and rather good exercise for his growing young muscles. As always, when everything else had been loaded onto the trucks, one last box remained backstage, standing upright in a corner.

Nigel unlatched the cover and set it carefully aside. The interior was mostly bare. It was just a box, after all. However, from the top hung two short thick chains, each ending in pair of small shackles. There was a similar arrangement on the bottom of the box. As always, Azrael stood at firm attention, his hands clasped behind his back, his knees and feet pressed together.

"Alright, little one," Nigel said with a warm smile, "in you go."

Azrael smiled, stood up on his tippy-toes to receive Nigel's regular kiss on the lips, then he obediently stepped into the box. The speedo-clad boy turned and faced his trainers, who carefully, quite lovingly actually, locked his slender wrists and ankles in the shackles that would keep him safe and secure for the three-hour trip to the next city. A red ball-gag was then placed into his perfectly shaped mouth and strapped tightly behind his little head.

"Comfy?" Ursula asked, gently tickling the boy's exposed ribs and admiring his tight muscular abdomen.

Twelve-year-old Azrael giggled and smiled through his gag. "mmmph, mmph," was the only reply he could manage.

Nigel lifted the heavy wooden box cover and set it in place, quickly latching it in eight separate locations. Each latch was then secured with a padlock to which only Nigel and Ursula had the keys. It was dark inside the box now, the only light coming from the two small screened grates on either side, allowing the valuable boy inside to get fresh air during the journey.

With great care, Nigel and five of the troupe's strongest male acrobats lifted the box and carried it to the waiting truck, packing it in with all of the Le Circus de la Lune's other property. There was writing on all four sides of the box in big red letters:

The End