Istari

The Fremont Stakes

A PZA 2010 Summer Sports Story
toc

There was an unmistakable air of excitement in the stables as the young jockeys, all between the ages of eight and twelve, busily prepared their stallions for the first race of the annual Fremont Stakes.

"Don't dawdle, Jamie. You and Caliban are in the first heat."

"Okay, dad," twelve-year-old Jamie Taylor said happily as he finished washing down the smooth hairless thighs of his fourteen-year-old stallion, giving the naked youth a firm swat on his young teenaged butt to remind him to keep still. Jamie had yet to put the handsome beast into his racing bit, bridle and face mask, and so it was still the delicate lightly freckled face of a cute young teenaged boy that stared back at his owners, man and boy, with bright lively hazel eyes. He snorted and whinnied, and his erect six-inch [15 cm] cock, freed of its chastity cage just moments earlier, was throbbing and oozing pre-cum. The young boy-stallion was clearly excited about the upcoming race. He shifted his weight from one bare foot to the other, and his pony-tail butt-plug swayed back and forth behind him. He nodded his head sharply causing his long golden-blond hair to fall down into his face. Most of the other boy stallions had their heads clean-shaven, or styled in a manner to resemble a horse's mane, but all would agree it would have been a crime against the beauty of nature to do anything to mar such a perfect head of hair.

"Whoa there, Caliban," Jamie said, following his smack to the boy's perfect young ass with a more gentle rubbing of the boy's neck and a scratch behind his right ear. He tenderly brushed the fourteen-year-old's sweaty hair away from his intelligent hazel eyes once more. "Easy, boy. I gotta finish washing you first."

The fourteen-year-old stilled himself immediately but his soft pink lips curled into a slight frown. He didn't see the need for all this. He just wanted to race. But he obeyed and offered no sign of defiance.

Jamie's dad was proud of the confidence with which his young son handled his lean and muscular boy-stallion. Raising and training another boy to live, think, and thrive as an equine took a great deal of focus and effort, and Jamie had proven himself an enthusiastic and firm master ever since he'd been presented with Caliban as a birthday present. Jamie was only eight back then, and Caliban only ten. Their first year was spent breaking Caliban to the bit, bridle and reins, and slowly, insistently, ever so gently stripping the young slave of any thoughts of the free human boy had been only a year earlier. Of any thoughts of being a human boy at all.

Four years later, Caliban was the ideal boy-stallion. Long and lean and exquisitely muscled. He had been branded on his right butt-cheek with the stylized initials 'JT' of his young master. His vocal chords had been severed rendering him incapable of speaking. He could vocalize shrieks and grunts and groans and had learned to neigh and whinny like a real horse. His eardrums had been expertly punctured, rendering him incapable of deciphering human speech. He could still hear sounds, but he had to focus on the tone and timbre of his young master's voice, and the crack of the riding crop across his back, butt, thighs, or balls, to know what was expected of him. His trim muscular young body was still naturally hairless, with the exception of a small sparse collection of light brown pubic hairs just above his impressive six-inch [15 cm] erection. Caliban's balls were large and heavy, and had been that way ever since they'd dropped when he was eleven. They dangled provocatively in a low-hanging hairless sack between his silken smooth thighs. The term 'hung like a horse' was a particularly apt and ironic description of young Caliban.

Jamie himself was the one who started bragging that Caliban would make an excellent stud, and samples of the boy's seed were already being milked from him on a monthly basis, in impressively large quantities, and sold to breeders worldwide.

"I think you took his cock-cage off too soon, Jamie," dad said, observing the fourteen-year-old's long, thick, throbbing, drooling teenaged erection. "Don't let him cum, or he'll be sluggish out there."

Jamie rolled his eyes, grabbed Caliban's erect, tightly circumcised penis and give it several quick teasing strokes. Caliban groaned in frustration and thrust his narrow hips forward desperately. Jamie took his hand away and swatted the boy's butt again, considerably harder this time. "I know what I'm doing, dad. Geesh." The boy spoke with such twelve-year-old assurance that his dad had no possible rebuttal.

"Well, you've got ten minutes to get him onto the track or you'll be disqualified. You still have to put him in his body harness, and you're not even in your riding gear yet."

Indeed he wasn't. Jamie was, in fact, wearing only his slightly pee-stained jockstrap, his three-inch [7½ cm] erection tenting it out rather adorably, his sweet firm pre-teen butt on display for all to see. Jamie was not shy. He'd been strutting around the stables like this, twelve-year-old boner and all, for the last half-hour. Most of the other young riders were equally scantily dressed, not wanting to get their fancy silk riding clothes dirty or torn as they prepared their teenaged stallions.

"I'll be ready, dad. And you can't be here coaching me either. That'll get me disqualified too."

"Alright, alright," dad said, tussling the lad's dark brown hair, worn almost as long as Caliban's blond mop. As a pair, the two of them were surely the most handsome boys in the stables, at least to dad's admittedly biased eyes. "I'll see you after the races are done."

"Yeah. You can meet us in the winner's circle."

'I hope so,' the boy's father thought as he walked away. The organizers of this annual event had just announced that the final race of the day would have some very high-risk stakes for the young riders, a fact young Jamie was blissfully unaware of at the moment.

Jamie adjusted the hard little twig inside his jockstrap and went back to work. He finished washing Caliban's smooth hairless skin then rubbed the naked stallion down with oil until the lean fourteen-year-old's entire body was glistening from his slender neck all the way to his adorable toes. The boy had big feet with high arches, perfect for running. The oil accentuated his lean muscular frame and the taut sinewy lines of his limbs and the tightness of his firm sexy abdomen. A perfect young teenaged body, a sweet and incredibly cute face, a spectacular head of hair, a large healthy cock and balls. Caliban truly was a gorgeous animal, and he'd won just as many trophies for presentation and show as he had for his speed and agility on the racetrack.

Caliban's cock remained rock hard and the boy was panting, his eyes filled with desperate need, as his young master oiled his cock and balls too. There were no special points for appearance associated with today's event, but any good young rider knew that his mount should always be in top condition.

Jamie then reached behind the older boy and checked that the young stallion's horse-tail butt-plug was properly seated. All racers would be inspected prior to their first heat, and an improperly placed plug was cause for immediate disqualification. Caliban grunted and groaned plaintively as he felt the large plug pressing on that spot deep inside him. A large dribble of pre-cum oozed from his throbbing erection.

"Don't cum, Caliban," Jamie warned, giving the older boy's hairless ball-sack a firm masterful squeeze and tug. Caliban whined and winced and his cock immediately softened, if only slightly. The boy's eyes watered as he felt that unpleasant but very familiar ache in his groin. Having his balls squeezed, tugged, pulled, kicked lightly or otherwise abused was a daily part of the control his master exercised over him and Caliban immediately stood still and silent again.

Jamie placed the boy into his mounting harness next. Made of sturdy leather, it strapped around the boy's waist, with connecting straps running around the boy's genitals and between his legs. Further straps went around the fourteen-year-old's long lean torso and chest passing just under the boy's slim sinewy arms. The buckles and locking clasps were heavy-duty and needed to be. The mounting seat was attached to the back of it, just between and slightly below the level of the boy's shoulders. Jamie would be sitting in this small seat with his legs wrapped around Caliban's torso. Carrying the full weight of a boy only a few years younger than himself was a difficult and exhausting task. But years of training had given the boy-stallion the strength, stamina, and balance to do it, at a full run.

"Hey loser," another young voice said as Jamie was strapping the bit and bridle to Caliban's mouth and head. Jamie turned to see Aston Culpepper, his best friend and rival standing just at the edge of Caliban's stall.

Aston was a twelve-year-old just like Jamie, only a little further along in his growth toward adolescence. The boy was already dressed in his silk racing shirt, spandex shorts and his heavy leather riding-boots. His sleeveless racing shirt was a light blue today with vertical golden stripes. His number '8' was emblazoned on the back, and the name of his sponsor, a local restaurant, was plastered across the front. His tight form-fitting shorts were silver, showing off his shapely thighs and a nice bulge considerably larger than Jamie's own tiny boy-bits. His strawberry-blond hair was longish, and dropped in loose unkempt curls over his shoulders.

"Hey Aston," Jamie replied as he pushed the bit into Caliban's mouth. The young stallion bit down obediently and bowed his head and neck so his considerably shorter master could easily strap it in place. "How's it hangin'?"

"Great," the other boy said, his voice noticeably fuller and richer when compared to Jamie's thin reedy soprano. "I got Scout ready to go. We're just waiting 'til they call us."

Aston pointed to the stall opposite Caliban's, to a brown-haired boy with smooth sun-bronzed skin, about fourteen years of age, trim and muscular and already in full racing tack, saddled, bridled, drool falling from his soft pink boyish lips as they curled around the thick bit in his mouth. The boy was a little taller and a bit more muscular than Caliban, his shoulders broader, his chest, thighs and calves a bit more defined. The boy's cock and balls were imprisoned inside a small confining stainless steel pod, which Jamie knew was welded permanently in place. Sharp spikes hidden inside the pod provided constant encouragement for Scout to keep his young cock soft.

Jamie smiled at Scout, one of Caliban's chief rivals. The young stallion had put on a little more muscle since the last time they'd raced him. Today was not going to be an easy victory for Caliban, but Jamie understood the paradox that more muscle meant more weight. Caliban would lose to Scout every time in a longer race, but his light and trim and perfectly muscled form was built perfectly for short sprints like these. Jamie then shifted his gaze to the boy in the stall to Scout's left, where Caliban's other main rival was ready and waiting and prancing from foot to foot, clearly a bundle of youthful energy. This boy was exactly and totally identical to Scout, with the notable exception that his hairless genitals were not confined within a steel pod, rather kept within a tight cock and ball harness, which ensured that his young penis remained fully and painfully engorged. The boy's blue eyes danced and flickered and he snorted and attempted to charge forward, held in place by a heavy shackle and chain locked around his left ankle.

"Who's riding Sniper today?" Jamie asked, running his eyes up and down the lean trim frame of Scout's identical twin brother.

"Oh, my cousin Willy is here. He's gonna ride Sniper."

"Willy? On Sniper?! Dude that's totally crazy. He's like only eight, right?"

"Yeah. It's gonna be his first race."

Jamie remembered his own first race and felt an immediate twinge of sympathy for young Willy. "Well, I don't care. If he and Sniper get in my way, I'll run them down!"

"Me too."

Jamie stared again at the twin stallions. "Hey Aston, how come you never let Scout out of his pod. I mean I always take Caliban's cock-cage off before he races. He runs a lot better with a boner!"

Aston laughed. "That's their father's idea. Scout's had his cock locked up like that since he was ten years old. It never comes off. Ever. The lock is welded shut, so it can't ever come off. Plus it helps us tell them apart. Scout's cock is always locked up, and Sniper's is like always hard. I mean seriously, they're totally identical right, 'cept for that."

Jamie realized that made good logical sense. "You think Sniper's gonna cum during the race again?"

"Duh! He always shoots his stuff once he gets running. That harness thing keeps him so horny he's just begging to cum."

"I bet all you gotta do is just touch his dick and he'd start shooting!" Jamie laughed, pointing at Sniper's throbbing, angry erection.

"Ha. I'll tell Willy to do that when he comes back. Sniper 'll shoot his stuff all over Willy's silks! That'll totally freak him out! Hey, you better get dressed. They're gonna call our numbers in like five minutes. I'm gonna take Scout out there now and let him get his feet under him."

Aston attached a leather leash to Scout's collar and walked him out of the stables toward the track. "Good luck, Jamie!" he called, turning back and placing his hand against his forehead and forming his thumb and index finger in the shape of an 'L'. "You're gonna need it! Loser!"

"Suck my big hard cock!" Jamie shouted back at his best friend, lewdly grabbing at his crotch and thrusting his slim hips in Aston's general direction.

"Ha! You wish! Willy's got a bigger willie than you!"

Jamie blushed, but somehow all that dirty talk and teasing was making his young cock even harder. Leaving Caliban chained in his stall, Jamie went over to the jockey's area at the far end of the stables and found his locker. He'd brought two sets of silks today. The first one featured shiny black spandex shorts and a yellow sleeveless silken shirt with bold black stripes, the other set had electric blue spandex shorts and a simple golden-colored shirt. Both sets had his number '23' on the back and on the front of the right thigh. Both shirts had the logo of his sponsor, a local car dealership owned by his uncle, the largest one in the state. He decided on the golden shirt for the qualifying heats. He'd change into his black striped kit if and when he and Caliban advanced to the semi-final races.

He slid the tight form-fitting shorts up his legs and around his waist. They hugged the twelve-year-old in all the right places, showing off his adorable butt and his cute little round boy-bulge in front. He wriggled into his shirt next, equally tight and so silky and cool against his smooth skin.

He pulled on his riding boots, laced them up and hurried back to Caliban.

"Ready, boy?" he asked as he placed the boy's hands and forearms into a pair of leather gloves and bracers that prevented the fourteen-year-old from using his hands during the race. They were stylized to make the boy's encased arms look like hooves. The Fremont Stakes was a sprint race, placing priority on each young animal's speed and agility. The boy-stallions were thus allowed to use their arms for balance, and so Jamie did not strap them behind the boy's back as he often did prior to other races.

Satisfied with his handiwork, Jamie attached the heavy chain to Caliban's steel collar and led his boy-stallion proudly out of the stables and onto the track.

A large and appreciative crowd welcomed him as the public address system announced his arrival. He waved enthusiastically with his left hand while he pulled Caliban forward with his right. Caliban's circumcised penis was soft at the moment, four inches [10 cm] of thick teenaged boymeat swaying provocatively between the boy's shapely smooth thighs.

"Number 23," the disembodied voice echoed, "A six time winner this season and a returning two-time champion of the Fremont Stakes. Jameson Taylor, age twelve, riding his own stallion, Caliban."

It was in fact rather unusual for the boy jockey to also be the owner of the boy stallion, but Jamie's dad had always intended his son to be Caliban's first and only rider. Why pay some other man's kid to do the job when you can train your own to do it for free!

Jamie led Caliban into his assigned place in the starting gate. Caliban dropped to his knees and Jamie easily straddled the specially designed saddle attached to the young teen's harness. Once his butt was on the seat, he wrapped his strong slim legs around Caliban's torso and grabbed the boy-stallion's bridle with both hands.

"Up, Caliban!" he shouted, pressing his thighs into the boy's sides. With a snort and a boyish grunt, Caliban stood up straight once again, with Jamie now in a 'piggy-back' position in the saddle. An attendant handed him his riding crop and Jamie tested it out with a gentle swat on Caliban's bare butt. Caliban whinnied and his cock swelled to a semi-erect state, but he did not move from his spot.

Jamie took a quick look around to size up the competition. He liked his odds in this first heat. He knew most of the boy-jockeys and their stallions by name. He actually went to school with a couple of the sexily dressed young riders. And even with one of the stallions.

That's right. Thirteen-year-old Kyle Wilkerson raced under the name Blizzard. He was the only free boy among the stallions. He was simply 'into' the ponyboy lifestyle and his father obliged him, keeping the boy as a pony at home in a small custom-built stable in the family's back yard and entering him in most of the big local races. Jamie was good friends with Kyle and the two of them often hung out together. Kyle was almost always in 'pony' mode, but having grown up with Caliban, Jamie didn't find anything terribly strange about being buddies with one of the boy-stallions. Today Kyle, or Blizzard, was in the gate to Jamie's immediate left, being ridden by a very nervous and very small ten-year-old whom Jamie had not met before.

"Hey Blizz," Jamie said with boyish twelve-year-old affection for his friend. In full harness, bit and bridle, Kyle could not reply, but he flashed his brown eyes at Jamie and curled his lips around his bit in a smile. He scuffed his bare right foot against the sandy dirt, and his hard hairless four-inch [10 cm] cock throbbed and dripped pre-cum, indicating he was ready to race. "Gonna beat me and Caliban today?"

Blizzard snorted excitedly, nearly knocking his novice jockey off his back.

Jamie wondered at the identity of the kid, but figured it wouldn't matter. Blizzard never won anything anyway. He looked to his right. Aston and Scout were directly next to him. Aston gave him a quick smile, then returned his focus to the track and his mount. Willy and Sniper were three gates down. Sniper snorting and moving around in the tiny confines of the starting gate, his eight-year-old jockey frantically trying to keep the fourteen-year-old animal under control.

"Riders ready," the announcer called. A moment later the starting bell rang out and the gates all opened. "And they're off!"

Jamie swung his arm back and brought the crop down hard on Caliban's butt. "Go, go, go!"

Caliban was first out of the gate, but as jockey and stallion Jamie and Caliban were very close in weight, closer than most of the other pairs, thus it always took Caliban several strides to get up to his full speed. Jamie brought the crop down hard again and again in rapid succession, driving the teenaged boy forward. As expected, Caliban had instantly fallen back into eighth position, but Jamie knew it would not stay that way for long. He could feel Caliban's fine strong muscles working beneath him as with each of the young teen's long strides they picked up speed.

Jamie leaned forward a bit, helping Caliban find better balance and leverage. The young teen grunted and clamped down hard on his bit. His young muscles were already burning, but the excitement of the race was starting to consume him. His large bare teen-boy feet gracefully carried him and his master down the track. With almost no effort he passed three of the less skilled jockeys, including the hapless Willy who had absolutely no control over the youthful and willful Sniper.

Jamie knew that fourth place was all they needed to advance to the next heat, but he wanted his choice of starting gate, so he cracked the riding crop down again and pressed his thighs more tightly into Caliban's sides.

"Faster, boy! Faster! Catch number 17 for third." Jamie knew that Caliban could not actually understand what he was saying, but the intensity of his voice and the tug on his bridle sent the message to the young beast just as clearly.

Caliban whinnied and with his hard cock bouncing and swaying with each rapid footfall he moved his fine handsome legs even faster. At the first turn he passed the target in question, but still Jamie did not ease off. He whipped Caliban into frenzy. "Run! Run! Go faster!" Jamie's high voice cried out.

They were running side by side next to Blizzard now. The lone free stallion gazed over at Jamie and Caliban and sneered into his bit. He'd been training harder than usual for this race and he wasn't going to just let them get an easy pass. Ignoring his ineffectual young jockey's attempts to control him, he moved closer to Caliban until they were almost shoulder to shoulder, their bare feet kicking up dirt from the track as the second turn approached.

"Hey, Blizz!" Jamie shouted in the heat of competition, "back off, dude!"

He didn't. And Jamie had no choice but to drive Caliban to the outside, costing him several lengths before he could recover.

"Dammit!" the twelve-year-old shouted as he saw Blizzard's cute butt with his signature red pony-tail butt-plug swinging tauntingly in front of them once again.

"Catch him!" he growled angrily into Caliban's ears.

Not used to being pushed off his line by another stallion, Caliban was equally pissed and needed no encouragement. He took off with a blast of speed that nearly knocked Jamie out of his saddle. He passed Blizzard on the straightaway and by the third turn he'd put himself and his master comfortably in third. Jamie eased up at that point and did not use the crop again. Caliban made one last pass for second place, enough to advance and give them a good choice of starting gate for the next heat. Aston and Scout finished first.

"Good race, huh Jamie?" Aston said as he moved Scout up beside them.

"Yeah. If we'd had another hundred feet [30 m] Caliban would've caught you."

"Yep. And another two hundred feet [60 m] Scout would have left him behind again."

The two young jockeys knew precisely the strengths and limits of their respective stallions.

Caliban and Scout both knelt down on command and Jamie and Aston got out of their saddles. Figuring they'd hang out together until all the preliminary heats were done, they chained the two handsome young stallions together by their iron collars and led them off to the watering station.

Two young water boys about Jamie and Aston's age brought the two jockeys some bottled water for their thirst. They were slaves owned by the Upper Fremont Pony Club, host of the event. Naked and in leather collars, cuffs and harnesses, the two boys made an attractive pair. Jamie noted that both of the boys had had their balls cut out, their small little cocklets pierced with heavy silver rings dangling useless over the empty space were their little ball-sacs should have been. There were special races just for geldings, but all the animals in today's competition still had their balls.

"I need to piss!" Aston exclaimed as he unashamedly pulled his tight riding pants down, revealing his smooth hard five-inch [12½ cm] erection crowned by a sparse patch of dark pubic hair. Jamie tried to hide his fascination and jealousy at his friend's considerable endowment. "See something you like, faggot?" Aston said, making a kissy expression with his lips.

"You wish," was Jamie's only response as he tugged at the small erection in his pants.

Aston grabbed one of the water boys by the ring on his leather collar and forced him to his knees.

The blond-haired twelve-year-old gelding, with the name 'Lightning' tattooed across his chest, obediently opened his mouth. Aston grunted, aimed his hard dick, clenched his eyes closed and pissed into the boy's mouth, softening his cock as he did so.

"There that's better," he said as he pulled his pants back up and pushed the slave boy away with a twelve-year-old's disdain. "Don't you need to pee, Jamie?"

Indeed Jamie did, but he knew that pulling his pants down in front of Aston and revealing his piss-hard hairless little cocklet would only result in another round of merciless teasing.

"I'm good. I'll wait."

"Savin' it for Caliban, right?"

"What? Oh, yeah. That's it," Jamie replied, suddenly thinking that might not be such a bad idea.

Jamie and Aston found a shady spot and sat down with Caliban and Scout standing next to them dripping with sweat and dirty from the first race. The two friends talked about school and girls, a subject that lately seemed to be fascinating to Aston but of little interest to Jamie, and finally they heard the call for the next round of heats.

"Let's see where we are in the draw," Aston said, getting up and adjusting his nearly constant boner.

Jamie stared at it, wondering what it would be like to have it in his mouth 3; or his butt.

Aston noticed it and smirked. "If you beat me today, I'll let you suck it, deal?"

Jamie pretended to be disgusted at such a proposition, but secretly his little heart was pounding. "Deal. But you have to suck Caliban's too!"

Aston's smirk changed to a frown, considering the humiliation of having to suck the cock of a boy-stallion.

"What, are you chicken?" Jamie teased, flapping his arms like a bird.

"No. It's a deal, fag!"

"Stop calling me that."

"Stop being one and I will."

The two boys went on like this as they walked their teenaged stallions back to the track, jabbing and jibing and teasing each other as twelve-year-old friends will.

The second round featured four races, the top four finishers in each advancing to the semi-final races later in the afternoon. The two semis would then set the final eight-stallion field.

Jamie and Aston agreed that their bet would only count for the finals, meaning they both had to get there first.

Already an experienced race strategist at the age of twelve, Jamie played it safe in his next heat, driving Caliban just hard enough to finish third and advance to the semis. Aston, always the more aggressive of the two friends, again drove Scout hard, finishing first and getting his choice not only of starting gate, but of which semi-final leg he'd be running in.

They now had several hours before the next races. Jamie led Caliban back to his stall, carefully removed all of the boy's racing tack, hosed him down with ice cold water and locked the fourteen-year-old's penis back into its tight steel cock-cage. Caliban's eyes watered as the burning need in his teenaged loins was denied once again.

"Easy, boy," Jamie said, giving the young teen a gentle swat on his butt and playfully jiggling Caliban's butt-plug.

Jamie stripped off his sweaty dirty silks and stood naked in front of his stallion. He played with himself for a moment, producing a straining three-inch [7½ cm] erection. He'd only just recently discovered the pleasure that could be found in his hard little rod. He closed his eyes as he felt his little balls draw up inside him and that tingling feeling start to build. A little drop of clear fluid glistened on his piss-slit. Just then his father appeared in Caliban's stall.

"Great job so far, Jamie," he said as he stared at his naked son's perfect round little boy-butt and the backs of the twelve-year-old's silky smooth handsome legs.

His son turned around revealing his cute little hairless boner, and blushing fiercely with a guilty expression across his face.

"Again? You need to keep your hands off that little thing, boy. Do we need to put it in a cage like Caliban's?"

"No, dad. Sorry, dad."

"You need to focus all your attention on the race, especially if you make the finals."

Jamie wondered why his dad was being so serious today. Sure the prize money was great, and so was the spotlight and moderate fame of being a highly ranked boy-jockey, but Jamie always raced for the fun of it.

"What's the big deal, dad?"

Jamie's father hesitated, as if he was holding a big secret. "It's nothing. Just make sure you stay focused. There are some very special stakes today."

"Cool! What are they?"

"Just win and you'll find out."

Jamie was a bit puzzled. His dad had never put any emphasis on winning, never pushed him like he seemed to be doing today. 'Geesh, grown-ups!' he thought to himself. He shrugged his bare shoulders and secured Caliban to his stall by attaching a thick heavy chain on the floor to his collar. He then padlocked the door to the stall to keep the young animal safe inside and went off in search of something to eat before the next race. The event had the air of a fairgrounds, with lots of food and other exhibits to go along with the races themselves and it didn't take the twelve-year-old long to find something fried and yummy to fill his growling stomach.

Two hours later, young Jamie was basking in the glory of winning his semi-final heat, advancing him to the final race with seven other boy-jockeys and their stallions. Aston had finished first in his heat as well. As all the boys washed their teenaged beasts down for the final race, the public address system announced that the finals would be run with very high stakes, a 'Special Elimination' race. The crowd applauded wildly. A great day of racing had just gotten even better and many were immediately running to place their bets. All the youthful jockeys froze on the spot when they heard this announcement and glanced around nervously at each other.

'Special Elimination' meant that the last-place jockey would forfeit his freedom and be legally declared a slave for life. The individual placing the most lucrative bet on the race would not only win a large amount of cash, but would also win the losing boy-jockey as a slave. Several of the boys wet themselves at this terrifying news. Jamie was one of them. He vaguely knew there were risks, beyond bodily injury, in being a boy-jockey. But he'd never run in a 'Special Elimination' race before. He'd heard rumors about them, but, like most of the boy-jockeys, he had always assumed they were just a myth meant to frighten the boys and encourage them to drive their youthful boy-stallions harder.

"Dad?" he asked as his father once again stood at the edge of Caliban's stall. "Is this for real?"

"Sorry, Jamie, it's true. I didn't know about it until just before your first race. They didn't announce it to the sponsors or owners until just before they called you to the starting gate. Once you ran that first race, it was too late to back out."

"So, so if I lose 3; I 3; I become a slave?"

"Afraid so, kiddo. So you better not lose."

Jamie was able to shrug it off fairly quickly. In three years of competitive racing, he and Caliban had never finished last. Never. Still these were high stakes indeed. He was scared and excited and for some reason his little cocklet was harder than he'd ever known it to be.

The bell sounded, calling all the boy-jockeys and their boy-stallions to the gate.

"This is it," Jamie's dad said, giving the boy a quick hug. "Be careful out there."

In the starting gate, Jamie was again next to Aston. If Aston was afraid of this surprising new development, he didn't show it.

"Better not finish last, Jamie. It'd suck if you had to be a slave."

"Suck for you too, loser," Jamie snipped back.

The announcer counted down. The boys all gripped the bridles. Caliban shifted anxiously beneath Jamie. The twelve-year-old could feel the fourteen-year-old slave boy's surging energy and excitement.

"Riders ready 3; " the starting bell sounded and the gates opened. "And they're off on the most important race of their young lives!"

Caliban got off to his usual slow start, but Jamie was not worried. He could feel the boy's strength, the confidence of his strides. He was comfortably in the middle of the pack at the first turn. He brought the riding crop down hard and fast, driving Caliban forward, urging him to his top speed, sooner than he normally would have. He couldn't risk finishing last. He couldn't.

Down the next straightaway Caliban was gaining on the third place boy. And then it happened.

Little Willy and Sniper, who had overcome their earlier problems and managed to be the final pair to make the finals, came up fast behind them. Sniper, as always, was running hard and wild, his erect cock throbbing, his ripe hairless balls bouncing. The young animal was barely under his eight-year-old jockey's command. He came too close to Caliban, the front of his right foot hitting the back of Caliban's left heel. Not enough to stop the sexually crazed Sniper on his wild dash, but enough to cause Caliban to stumble.

"No!" Jamie called, bringing the crop down hard on Caliban's butt. "Oh, nooo!"

Young Blizzard came up beside them and for a moment the two boy-stallions were neck and neck. Around the second turn their sweaty straining bodies actually touched, only for an instant, but with Caliban already off his stride and off balance, the normally uneventful contact caused the fourteen-year-old to trip. With Jamie holding on for dear life now, Caliban stumbled and tumbled and crashed to his knees as Blizzard ran on down the straightaway.

"Caliban! Get up! Get up you stupid animal! I don't wanna be a slave!"

But of course, with his eardrums punctured years ago, Caliban could not decipher his young master's frantic cries. Only the shattered frightened tone of his voice, which signaled to the teenaged boy that his master must be hurt.

Caliban thus did what he'd been trained to do when his master was in danger during a race. He stopped running.

"Noooo! No. Run! Caliban, pleeease! Run!"

By the time the fourteen-year-old realized his mistake and started off again, it was far too late. He was in last place. Four other stallions had already finished the race. Jamie was crying and thrashing him now with the crop, driving him to the finish line in a hopeless effort. Fifth. Sixth. Seventh. There was only one cute boy-jockey and his handsome teenaged boy-stallion left on the track now. Six-time winner and former Fremont Stakes champion Jameson Taylor. They crossed the line in last place.

Jamie didn't wait for Caliban to kneel down and let him dismount. He literally jumped from the saddle and started beating Caliban with the crop, then with his bare balled-up fists.

"You stupid animal!"

A moment later two uniformed private security officers pulled the slightly-built twelve-year-old off the young boy-stallion. They yanked his arms behind his back and placed a pair of shackles around his wrists.

While twelve-year-old Aston Culpepper was celebrating his first ever victory in the Fremont Stakes, twelve-year-old Jameson Taylor was being stripped naked in front of everyone, a black leather mask and muzzle placed over his face to blind and silence him. He peed again as several of the older jockeys snickered at his tiny uncut little pecker and his marble-sized balls. Then the boy felt something cold and metallic being placed around his neck. He knew it was an iron slave collar. A heavy lock was closed ensuring the collar would not come off. His ankles were shackled next and he could feel the weight of the short heavy chain between them. He cried out into the mask. His high voice muffled by the thick leather muzzle.

"Daddy! Daddy help me!"

But Jameson's father could do nothing but watch in disappointment and horror. All those years of training now down the drain. A champion stallion now with no rider. He did the only thing he could legally and logically do at this point. He turned away from the crying hysterical young slave who just moments ago had been his beloved son and went over to Caliban and took the young stallion's reins. Caliban was watching his former master's enslavement with evident confusion but without even a glint of sympathy or concern. His cock was still rock hard and throbbing with the rapid beat of his young heart, a long string of pre-cum dangling from the tip.

Jamie was hung from whipping post near the winner's circle, given a quick and very public flogging then dragged away and locked in a small cage awaiting his new owner. Caliban was dragged away as well, bound in heavy chains, his cock-cage in place once more, and secured within the tight confines of his transport trailer. Jamie's father had remained to witness his son's first flogging as a slave, but he now had no further rights to see or speak to the boy, and so he simply drove away, taking his prized young stallion with him. The very next day, Jamie's father would begin the search for a new boy-jockey.

Epilogue

There was presently a big bit-gag in his mouth, causing him to drool constantly. His eyes were covered by a studded leather blindfold keeping him in total darkness. The twelve-year-old slave had no idea how long he'd been in this place or where he was. Suddenly he heard keys turning in a lock and door creaking open.

He called out into his bit-gag, a muffled 'Help me!'

More keys and clinking of chains and the barred door to his stall was opened.

"Well, hello, loser," a familiar voice said.

Immediately Jamie's heart leapt with hope.

He felt small hands working at the blindfold and bit-gag and removing them. His puffy red tear-filled eyes glimpsed the smiling lightly freckled face of his best friend Aston Culpepper.

"Aston! Get 3; get me outta here, please!"

Aston's smile darkened and a wicked glint came to his playful green eyes. Then the twelve-year-old raised his hand and slapped Jamie hard across the face. "Shut up! You're a stallion now and stallions don't talk. Tomorrow we're gonna take you to the vet and have your vocal cords cut and your eardrums punctured. Dad says we should have your balls out too, but that's my decision and I haven't decided if I'm gonna let you keep 'em yet."

Jamie stared at Aston in shock. "But 3; you 3; I mean 3; you're 3;"

"That's right, dumbass. My dad placed a big bet that you'd fuck up and lose that race and you did! Now we're even more stinking rich and you're my slave. This is so fucking cool!"

"But 3; you're my best friend 3; "

"I was your best friend, turd. Now I'm your master. You better get used to that in a hurry. There's three weeks until the next race and Willy's gonna be riding you. Let's hope you make a better stallion than you did a jockey." Aston laughed at him and went over to a small electric brazier. Jamie noticed it was red hot. Aston placed a branding iron into it and started rolling it around.

"Gotta brand you, Loser. That's your name now by the way. But before I do that I remember we had a bet didn't we?"

"Y 3; yes," Jamie said as he started crying once again.

"If you won, I'd let you suck my cock, and I'd have to suck Caliban's. Wasn't that right?"

"Y 3; yeah."

Aston slapped Jamie hard again, this time leaving a red mark on the boy's bewildered and distraught face.

"Well you lost, Loser, but guess what? Since you're my slave now, you can suck my cock anyway!"

Aston laughed again and quickly shucked off his shorts revealing his impressive uncut five-inch [12½ cm] erection and his cute little bush of light brown pubic hair. Aston's balls were surprisingly heavy for a boy so young, dangling low the warmth of the stables that would now be Jamie's new home.

"Get sucking!"

To his shame and confusion, Jamie felt his cock harden inside his new chastity belt. He yelped as the spikes did their work, biting into his misbehaving boyflesh and encouraging it to soften again.

"Yeah," Aston smirked, guessing correctly at what was going on behind the metal plate of his new slave's belt. "I thought so."

Jamie dropped to his knees and wrapped his trembling lips around Aston's cock, so much bigger than his own trapped and useless little member.

"Ohhh, yeeeah, wow!' Aston said as he felt another boy's lips embrace his aching erection for the first time in his life. "That's one thing you're really gonna be good at!"

Like most highly-strung twelve-year-old's it didn't take Aston long to shoot his fresh thick creamy boy-spunk into Jamie's gagging throat, a shockingly large amount of it for a boy not yet in his teens. While his cum was still dripping from Jamie's lips he went to the brazier and pulled out the branding iron, now red hot. Jamie got a good look at it. He was going to be branded with a big 'L'.

"L for Loser," Aston said merrily. "I wanted to put this on your forehead, but my dad says that would mess up your looks. He thinks you're cute or something. So I'm gonna put it on your butt. Left side or right side? Choose quick or I'll just do both!"

"L 3; left, I guess," Jamie sobbed.

`Aston smirked at him again and strapped the bit back into Jamie's mouth. The last words Jamie would ever speak would be his telling his new master on which butt-cheek he wanted to be branded. Aston made him stand up in his chains and then bend over and grab his ankles. He aimed up carefully and pressed the iron against the soft flesh of the new boy-stallion's butt.

Jamie shrieked and clamped down on his bit and collapsed in a heap of sweaty naked misery onto the floor. He peed himself and felt the spikes digging in to his hardening cocklet yet again and sobbed as the harsh horror and reality of his new life crashed down upon him.

"Get some sleep, Loser," Aston said with a laugh, kicking the naked boy curled up at his feet. "We got a lot to do tomorrow!"

The End