PZA: Worldwide Boy Gladiators 21-25

First off the plane was a middle-aged woman in an expensive business suit. Crawling behind her on his hands and knees was her eight-year-old human pet. The boy was naked except for a large silver collar with long sharp spikes running around the outside. He wore a large muzzle gag, strapped tightly around his head and locked in place with a heavy padlock. There was a leather leash attached to his collar, the other end of which was presently in his mistress's hand. His own hands were encased in metal pods, preventing him from using his fingers. His little penis was pierced with a thick steel ring, which was connected to a thin short two-inch [5cm] chain that ran between his legs and attached to a second mounting ring that pierced his perineum, just behind his little ball sac. This arrangement ensured that the boy's tiny cocklet was held firmly down between his legs. The little boy was plugged as well. The end of the large metal plug in his butt was just visible if one stood behind him. It had a ring which was also linked by a chain to the boy's perineal piercing.

"Ophelia Winstrom," Durand announced to the others. "President of British Overseas Imports, and a member of parliament."

"Welcome, Mrs. Winstrom," Durand said with a bow. "Your suite has been prepared."

"Excellent," the woman replied in a cultured voice. "A beautiful island you have."

"That won't be necessary. Spike here simply sleeps on the floor." She tugged gently at the chain attached to the little boy's collar.

Durand clapped his hands and one of the mules came forward to take her bags and lead her off to her luxury suite, her naked boy-pet crawling along obediently behind her.

Three more highly influential guests stepped off the plane, two men and one woman, all of them still rather youthful and fashionably dressed. Gladiator Island was going to be a place to be seen by others, and it was clear these wealthy twenty-somethings wanted to impress. It was also clear by their easy demeanor that they all knew each other. They talked and laughed and stopped to bask in the warm tropical sun. Each had a boy with them. The lads were naked and all aged between nine and eleven years. They were collared in matching leather with silver studs, and large penis gags were stuffed into their mouths. The boys were not wearing chastity belts, but each of them had their hairless genitals adorned with a thick steel ring, which forced their cocks and balls to jut out prominently from their slender naked bodies. The ends of their neatly circumcised cocks were pierced with a large golden ring. One of the eleven-year-olds sported quite a large penis, almost rivaling young Joshua's. The other two were perfectly average little boys with perfectly average little dinks. All three of them had erections at the moment. They walked rather gingerly behind their masters and mistress, each with a rather large vibrating butt-plug stuffed in his rectum.

"The Creightons," Durand announced to the others. "Brothers and sister. They own several private slave-processing centers in Great Britain and Germany. They helped us find young Harris and Shelton. Welcome, my friends," he said extending his hand to them.

They exchanged pleasantries for a few moments. "Keeping them hard, I see?" Durand observed, letting his eyes roam hungrily over the three pre-teen boys and their hard bobbing cocks.

"Yes," Bruce Creighton, the oldest sibling replied. "First boy to lose his boner gets punished. Of course they're not allowed to touch themselves, and they're never allowed to cum."

"Quite a deliciously wicked contest," Durand observed. "We're planning on having our young gladiators do something very similar."

Two more mules were summoned and between them, the two fifteen-year-old boys carried away the Creightons' luggage.

The last passenger off the plane was a distinguished gentleman close in age to William Durand himself. He too had a boy, a youth of thirteen very small for his age. He was wearing shining black leather chastity shorts and had his arms bound behind him in a matching lace-up bondage sheath. He was gagged and collared and looked quite frightened and unhappy. The man made no small talk, and barely acknowledged his hosts. The youngest of the mules took his single bag and escorted him to his suite.

"The gentleman has asked that his name not be given out freely, Mike. Sorry," Durand replied. "Suffice it to say he could buy this entire island and our ten gladiators and still have several billion to spare."

They were allowed to use the bathroom and showered again. Then, for the first time in nearly two weeks they were given clothes to wear. The metal boxes which contained their shoes and their slave uniforms were brought in and unlocked by the trainers. Once again Chris found himself in the short sleeveless gray tunic which left his taut mid-section bare, the tight white shorts, which clearly showed the outlines of his metal chastity cage, and the white athletic shoes on his feet. It felt weird to be wearing clothes again. He'd gotten used to being naked all time. These particular clothes however hardly made him happy. They were intended to be humiliating and they certainly were. All the other boys were similarly dressed.

"We have special guests on the island tonight, boys," Jason told them after they'd lined up, hands on heads. "They will be watching the first day of competition tomorrow, but they'll be meeting you up close and personal this evening. XB1 is hosting a reception for them and you boys are going to be serving the food and drinks. You will not speak unless you are spoken to directly. You will be polite. Our guests are free to examine your bodies and touch you in any way they wish. Your chastity devices will be removed once the reception starts. You are absolutely forbidden to cum, no matter how often your dicks are played with."

Nervous glances passed between the boys. All of them had been milked at the start of the week, but boys are boys and they were all desperate to have a good cum, even the pre-pubescent ones were eager for their dry orgasms.

"I'm gonna shoot all over the place if someone touches my dick, even for just like two seconds, even with this plug thing stuck inside it," Chris whispered to Philippe who stood next to him. The fourteen-year-old French teen nodded somberly. His cock was already aching for release.

Two more flights landed in the late afternoon, bringing more visitors to the island. By the time the sun went down there were twenty-five individuals gathered for the reception in the main arena. The remaining spectators would arrive early in the morning, but the special VIPs would be given considerably more access to the island and the boys.

The floor of the arena was set up with several tables, luxurious couches, arm-chairs and numerous serving stations for the use and enjoyment of the guests who had filtered in at their leisure and were now mingling freely. Down below, the boys all stood with their shorts around their ankles as their chastity devices were removed. Chris' penis plug was removed too, just for this special occasion, ending the young boy's worries about what might happen if he accidentally had an orgasm with the thing still in his dick. Their butt-plugs remained in place.

The tight white shorts revealed strong boyish erections. Even ten-year-old Miles and the normally flaccid Daniel were sporting eager little boners in their pants.

"Remember, boys," Jason warned them sternly. "You are not allowed to cum. If you think you're going to, you have to announce it to everyone. 'I'm cumming' is what we want you to say. You'll get punished either way, but if you don't say it, your punishment will be even worse. When you get up to the arena, grab a tray of food and take it around to our guests. When it is empty, come back to the main table. They can touch you any place on your body. If they want you to take your shorts off, you will. The only part of you that's off limits is your butts. You're all plugged and you'll all stay that way. They have to pay extra if they want to fuck you."

All the boys were quiet and a little scarred. The thought of all these strangers touching them made the young slaves very nervous.

The ten boys ran up the set of stairs marked 'BOYS' and came out onto the floor of the arena. The assembled guests all stopped and applauded their arrival, almost all of them staring hungrily at the scantily-clad slave boys.

With his six-inch [15cm] boner still straining in his shorts, Chris picked up a tray of appetizers and began to work through the crowd. Josh, with his oversized penis currently very hard, stuck close to his older brother and followed him around. It wasn't long before the hands of the guests began to casually find their way to the boys' butts, and legs and abdomens.

"What's this?" one woman asked playfully as she squeezed eleven-year-old Joshua's penis through his shorts.

The woman smiled indulgently. "Of course it is, you silly boy. But why is it so hard? Boy's penises aren't supposed to be hard, are they?"

She gave him several hard swats to his backside. "Next time you come round, I expect that thing to be soft."

"Yes, ma'am," Josh said blushing and scurrying away as fast as he could, once again finding his brother.

"She touched my dick," Josh whispered to Chris. It still hadn't quite sunk in that his private parts were now and for the next five years going to be quite public.

The gladiators themselves continued to offer food and drink, wearing considerably less than they had when the evening had started. All of them had by now lost their shoes and were walking around nude from the waist down. Illya, Josh, David and Daniel had also lost their short gray tunics leaving them completely naked with only their iron slave collars around their necks.

Chris was currently having his hard cock fondled by two men as he held a tray of champagne flutes in his trembling hands. The thirteen-year-old was biting his lip. He was so horny after being kept in chastity for so long that even the humiliation of being used like this did nothing to stifle his raging young teen hormones. It felt so good having his penis stroked. His cock was drooling pre-cum now. It had been leaking for most of the evening, but the two gay partners were presently and expertly milking a constant stream of clear fluid from the young boy's eager six-inch [15cm] boner. One of the men then took Chris' balls firmly in his hand and gave them a good squeeze.

"Little fuck likes that," the man said to his counterpart who was still slowly, teasingly jerking the boy off.

Chris knew he was about to lose it. There was nothing he could do to stop it. He felt his balls drawing up in the man's hands. His cock got even harder. The thirteen-year-old knew he was going to cum. He let out a soft wail and gasped as his orgasm hit him.

"I'm cumming!" he said weakly, remembering just in time the orders Jason had given them. No sooner had the words escaped his lips than his cock erupted in powerful jets of pent-up boy-cum. "Oh, mmmmm," he sighed, licking his lips and staring dreamily at the two men who had made him feel so good.

"You will be. Now get down there and lick up your mess, you filthy little slave."

By now Chris had already preformed this embarrassing task on numerous occasions. Not that repetition really made things any easier. He set the tray aside and dropped to his hands and knees, lapping up his spent seed as the two men stood over him. Chris suddenly felt a booted foot pressing against the end of the plug in his butt, pushing it a little further inside him. He let out a high-pitched groan, which seemed to please his tormentors. He was not allowed to get up and resume his serving duties until the two men had inspected the floor. The boy's own cum was on his lips and running down his chin, but he was not allowed to wipe it off.

"Let everyone see what a shameless little slut you are," they told him as they sent him on his way. Chris would end up cumming two more times before the reception ended. And he certainly wasn't alone. Seven of the boy gladiators were capable of some sort of ejaculation and all of them had done so at least once. Even Daniel had managed to squirt out a few drops of clear fluid. For their part, the three youngest boys, Josh, Ian, and Miles had all experienced numerous shattering dry orgasms throughout the evening, and had been walking around with stiff boy-cocks ever since their chastity belts were removed. Eleven-year-old Ian was actually capable of ejaculating a meager amount of clear seminal fluid from his four-inch [10cm] long boner, but he was quickly recharged and ready for another one. The older lads would experience brief periods when their dicks went soft, but the skilled hands of the grown-ups at this gathering had kept them in a state of near constant arousal.

The sounds of ten young voices shouting out an alluring chorus of "I'm cumming!" had become quite common.

"Before you all return to your suites," William Durand announced to his special guests as the party winded down, "I believe you would all enjoy helping us punish these ten naughty boys for having orgasms."

Eager murmurs of agreement filled the arena. The ten boy gladiators, all of them now with soft flaccid cocks and worried expressions stood silently in the center of the arena floor, wondering just what punishments were awaiting them.

An odd-looking machine was rolled in by three of the trainers. It had a sturdy metal frame with a thick padded bar in the very center. Leather restraints were attached to the corners of the frame. Mounted to one side was an adjustable robotic arm with a rather frightening and very large metal paddle at the end. There was a separate console with various controls and a large number of wires for attachment to the frame and to the body of the boy who would be occupying it.

"Gentlemen, and Ladies," Durand said with a smile, "let me introduce you to the BoySpank 350-C, the latest in automated discipline for misbehaving slave boys. This particular model is sized for young men aged ten to sixteen. This evening marks its debut performance."

It was a contraption meant to inflict pain, a lot of it, with no hope of escape or mercy until the pre-programmed routine had run its course. None of the boy slaves had experienced or even seen a real spanking machine before, and they all stared at it in dumbstruck horror.

"Now, let's give these boys some nice crimson behinds, shall we?" Durand asked to the delighted applause of his guests.

Ten-year-old Miles was the first boy to be strapped to the frame of the spanking machine. Once his wrists and ankles were secured and his abdomen pressed against the support bar, the upper frame of the machine slowly bent downwards, bending Miles with it. When it finally reached its locked position, the boy was bent double, his little butt displayed in its most vulnerable position. Between his widely spread legs, his tiny ball sack could be seen, two little immature marbles dangling inside it. His barely two-inch [5cm] cocklet was hard again, pointing towards his stomach.

"The machine can be programmed based on the boy's age, weight, and the desired level of punishment. There are a variety of disciplinary implements that can be attached to the arm. The paddle is the default and comes as standard equipment from the factory."

The factory which happened to be a fully owned subsidiary of Extreme Action Broadcasting. Several years ago, Durand had decided to diversify the business and get into the ever-growing market for the production and sale of disciplinary and behavior modification devices for boy slaves, public and private. The new spanking machine was sure to be a big seller worldwide. He continued his overview of the machine's abilities.

"The robotic arm is fully articulated and can aim and deliver correction to several areas of the boy's body. His behind, the backs of his thighs, his shoulders. There is a special flagellating attachment for striking the boy's perineum and his ball sack, although as you can see Zero-One's little balls present a rather small target. We'll be demonstrating that feature on one of the older boys. That not withstanding, Zero-One here had six orgasms tonight, so I believe a rather severe reminder is in order."

Durand worked the controls himself. There was a mechanical buzzing sound, and then the robotic arm with the ominous paddle swung into motion with surprising speed. There was a loud 'crack' as the paddle landed squarely on the ten-year-old's behind.

Miles screamed and his entire body shook. The violence of the blow would have knocked him off his feet if he hadn't been bound to the frame. The BoySpank 350 went through a cycle of fifteen rapid strokes, pausing just enough to allow the full force of the blow to sink in before the next one fell. Miles continued to shout and writhe against the frame, each stroke eliciting a new round of pathetic shrieks from the little boy. When the arm pulled back to its resting position, the boy's butt was a dark red and copious tears were streaming from his eyes. All the other boys looked on in quiet trembling dread, knowing they would each be getting a turn as a victim of the merciless machine.

Chris, David and Illya had ejaculated three times each, and so they were made to wait until last to receive their punishments. As the youngest of this unfortunate trio, Chris was the first to be strapped to the frame. Once his wrists and ankles were secured, and the support bar adjusted to the level of his waist, the machine quickly bent him over. In this humiliating position his plugged rear-end was embarrassingly exposed. The doubled over as he was, the boy could see his cock and balls dangling between his legs. His dick was half-hard, much to his dismay.

"As you can see," William Durand was speaking to his guests, "Zero-Seven has rather large testicles for a boy his age." By now everyone was well aware of young Christopher's more than adequate endowment, and all of the guests had personally held those particular jewels in their hands at some point during the evening. "No doubt this explains his shameful behavior this evening. He'll be receiving addition correction with the flagellating attachment 3; after the standard punishment is administered."

Chris didn't know what flagellating meant, but he knew from Durand's previous explanations that he was going to have his balls hit. Having watched seven other boys reduced to shrieking tears by the machine, he was suddenly gripped with fear. He tensed and squirmed in his bonds, but the metal frame held him motionless and helpless. "Please, sir, don't hit my balls!" he begged. "I'll be good from now on, I swear!"

"Boy, you've just added to your punishment by speaking without permission. The only sounds we should hear from you for next few minutes are the sounds of you crying."

Durand programmed the machine, changing the parameters to account for the thirteen-year-old's height, weight and general stage of physical development. "Zero-Seven has been assigned a level five correction cycle. He will be receiving fifty strokes on his behind, followed by ten strokes with the flagellator, five of which will be administered to his testicles."

'Oohs' and 'aaahs', and nods of eager approval went around the room, all that is except from the nine boy gladiators who were standing with their hands clasped obediently behind their heads, looking on in muted terror. Seven of them already had flaming crimson backsides to show for their unauthorized orgasms. David and Illya watched with particular dread on their young faces. They knew they would be receiving identical punishments to the one Chris was about to endure.

The machine emitted a short buzzing sound, indicating it was ready to deliver the programmed punishment to the misbehaving slave boy. Durand pressed the flashing start button, and as the gathered VIPs had witnessed previously, the robotic arm swung gracefully into motion. Bound to the frame and bent over with his head down towards the floor, Chris could not see the arm moving and positioning itself, nor could he hear it, since its smooth motions were virtually silent. What he did hear was a sudden whoosh as the paddle mounted on the end of the arm cut rapidly through the air. Two sounds then occurred almost simultaneously. First was the sound of the expertly crafted aluminum paddle making contact with the thirteen-year-old boy's rear end. The second, which followed about a half-second later, was the thirteen-year-old boy's voice screeching in agony.

It took five minutes for the machine to complete the first stage of the program. By the end, Chris was sobbing and mucous was running from his nose. His adolescent voice was nearly hoarse from screaming, but he still managed to let out a few weak cries and whimpers as the final strokes were delivered to his now flaming behind, which was already bruised and turning a deep shade of purple.

Watching with enthusiastic eyes, Ophelia Winstrom pulled her naked eight-year-old boy-pet Spike closer on his leash. "You be a good little pup, or I'll be purchasing one of these machines for you."

The little boy's brown eyes watered and he nodded his head rapidly to indicate he would be on his best behavior. Spike had remained on his hands and knees all evening. In fact no one, since Lady Winstrom's arrival, had seen the boy standing on his feet. He went on all fours, his hands locked in a pair of metal mitts, wherever his mistress led him, his little cock held permanently down between his legs by the golden chastity ring which was attached with a thin chain to the end of his butt-plug. No one could recall hearing him speak either. But as the boy was strictly forbidden to walk and talk, and had not done either in almost two years, it should have been no surprise.

"And now for the final ten strokes," Durand announced. Jason himself changed the attachments at the end of the robotic arm and signaled that all was ready. He stopped and whispered briefly into Chris' right ear.

"This is really going to hurt, Chris," he said, perhaps hinting at tiny bit of sympathy. "Don't try to be brave. Just scream. That's what everyone wants to hear."

Chris didn't think he had much screaming left in him, but the buzzing of the machine followed instantly by the sound of the leather straps of the flagellator flying through the air and landing directly on his dangling hairless scrotum proved him wrong. His voice broke and cracked and he let out a high-pitched wail.

The straps made an ominous, and to Chris terrifying sound, as they swished through the air. The second stroke landed on the boy's smooth and perfectly hairless perineum, causing the young teen's cock to swell a bit, in spite of the pain in his balls. The machine continued delivering alternating strokes with the small leather whip, one to set the boy's testicles swinging and make him cry out in agony, the other a few seconds latter, with less force, applied to that sensitive area of skin between the boy's anus and scrotum.

Chris' brain was on fire at this point. His balls ached so bad, and yet every time that damn whip hit him in that other spot (he had already forgotten what Durand had called it. At thirteen, his knowledge of his anatomy pretty much ended at his dick and balls.) his penis got a little bit harder. By the end he had a full erection throbbing between his legs for everyone to see.

"Apparently he hasn't quite learned his lesson yet," one of the Creighton siblings laughed, referring to the thirteen-year-old's erection. His own eleven-year-old slave boy was presently on his knees sucking on his master's cock, his soft little dick hanging ignored and rather useless between his thin legs. This particular lad had won the contest among the siblings three slave boys to see who could keep his dick hard the longest. His reward, of course, was a harsh whipping for having an erection in the first place.

The machine buzzed again and the metal frame righted itself, moving a teary eyed and humiliated Chris into a standing position. Jason released him from the restraints and gave him the same instruction the other boys had received.

"No rubbing your butt. Hands behind your head." Jason then worked the boy back into his chastity device, forcing the metal cage over the thirteen-year-old's semi-erect penis. The biting of the metal spikes quickly softened the misbehaving teenaged dick. Chris noticed he was the only boy currently being forced to wear the device. As further humiliation, Jason put the silver penis plug back into the thirteen-year-old's dick, right there in front of everybody. Chris ears went red with embarrassment. Josh moved next to him, his soft almost four-inch [10cm] long penis swinging freely between his legs. He giggled quietly and nudged his older brother in the ribs.

"Yeah," Chris whispered, remembering that they weren't supposed to talk without permission. "My balls felt like they were gonna explode."

The two brothers stayed close together and watched as Illya and finally David received their punishments. David, as the oldest boy, was given the harshest sentence. Seventy-five strokes of the paddle and fifteen with the flagellator, all delivered to his balls. He collapsed on the floor the instant he was released, clutching his hands between his legs and crying like a little boy.

With that the reception came to a close and the VIPs all returned to their luxurious suites. The young gladiators were marched back to their barracks, Chris and Illya helping poor David who was still in too much pain to walk on his own. The mules in their gray tunics and naked from the waist down were brought in to clean up the arena, the young slave boy laborers silently and obediently going about their arduous tasks, always with distant blank looks on their sad young faces. The first day of competition was now less than twelve hours away.

Chapter 22
The Premier

It wouldn't be inaccurate to say the boys were excited. Scared, certainly, but excited. This was, after all, why they had been brought here. After tomorrow, they would officially be Boy Gladiators, and TV stars on top of it.

Josh leaned back against the wall and ran his hands absent-mindedly over the metal plate that covered his genitals. There was no possible way he could even begin to pleasure himself. He could barely feel the pressure of his hand through the perfectly shaped and tightly fitted metal, and he really wasn't even aware he was doing it.

"Not funny, David," Josh snipped back. He crossed his legs and rested his hands on his thighs.

"Yeah, but at least you can still see yours. This thing makes me feel like I don't have nothin' down there, you know."

The two boys gradually steered their conversation away from their imprisoned genitals and back to the upcoming contests. They were trying to work out strategies for the team events.

"Then I've got to beat you, Josh," David answered without hesitation. "I'll look out for you as long as it ain't gonna cost me points. If it does, you're on your own, got it."

"Yeah," Josh replied, a little dejected, but not exactly upset. "I guess that's fair. I'll try to beat you too, if I get a chance."

Josh smiled. He was happy David was his partner. Having the oldest boy as his teammate gave him definite advantages. He thought about Chris. He'd be competing against him, every time, all the time. That made him feel a little sad, but he already knew Chris wasn't going to show him any mercy, so he vowed he wouldn't either. The problem was Chris always beat him at everything. Josh spent the next few hours thinking hard about ways he might defeat his brother. He didn't end up with much to show for his efforts.

In the other four cells, similar strategic discussions were going on, each pair of boys talking quietly and trying to guess which events they'd be forced to participate in tomorrow. During their first week on the island, they'd all practiced a variety of competitions under the watchful eyes of their trainers, but none of them had any clue what the morning would bring.

Finally, with about two hours to go before dawn, the last of the boys managed to fall asleep. The night guards checked on them, quietly opening the cell doors and inspecting the slaves with a flashlight. Ten naked boys lay on their bunks, curled up on their sides or flat on their backs or on their stomachs with their cute bare rear ends on display. None of them awakened and their cell doors were slowly closed again.

Bathroom, showers and breakfast were all hurried affairs the next morning. The boys were still eating when their trainers arrived.

The boys scarfed down their powdered eggs and stuffed the last pieces of toast into their mouths. All of them were standing with their toes on the red line painted on the floor, just in front of the scoreboard. They no longer needed to be told to assume the proper position. Ten young boys stood in just their chastity devices, legs spread and hands clasped behind their heads. They were collared, shackled and chained together at their necks, this time all ten of them in a single-file line. It marked the first time the boy gladiators had been bound this way. It would become the standard for their entry into the arena on days when a live audience would be watching.

The boys were marched out of the barracks and made to run toward the arena. Miles, Josh and Ian, the three youngest and shortest boys were at the back of the line and stumbled often as the older boys up front dragged them forward.

Outside the morning was bright and already warm. The air was still today and the boys were already sweaty when they reached the holding area beneath the arena floor. They could hear the noise of the crowd above. The live televised debut of Worldwide Boy Gladiators would be airing that night, but the official competition would be starting in a few minutes, recorded on tape-delay for later viewing and immediately available as a live download on the internet.

In the holding area, the trainers made the final preparations on their young charges. Their chastity devices were removed and immediately replaced with thick leather pouches held in place by wide belts around their slim waists. The pouches served to accentuate their boyish packages, particularly the more well-endowed boys, but the leather would do little to protect their precious genitals once the competition began, quite the opposite as they were designed to push the boys' balls forward.

"When you are wearing your pouches," Jason explained, "you will not be punished if you have an accidental erection. You will be punished severely if you touch your genitals. Removal of your chastity devices does not give you boys permission play with yourselves. Are we clear on that point?"

Still chained together, the boys ran up the ramp and out onto the arena floor. Flash bulbs went off all around them. Loud cheers rose from the crowd, followed almost immediately by a shower of lewd and suggestive comments, some of which the boys could hear, most of which were lost in the cacophony of five hundred eager spectators.

The arena, which had looked big enough when it was empty, now seemed enormous to the ten scantily-clad boys. They marched to the very center of the floor, as they'd been trained to do and saluted the audience. Standing perfectly straight, knees pressed together, heads up, eyes forward.

"We who are about to compete salute you!" they shouted in unison, their varied boyish voices reciting the first of the lines they'd been forced to memorize over the past week. "We suffer for you! We fight for your enjoyment! Our pain is your pleasure! We are Boy Gladiators!"

All of them had thought these lines ridiculously corny when they were first made to say them. Not one of them had gotten through it the first time without breaking up laughing. However, now, standing in the arena, with the wild ravenous eyes and merciless shouts of the audience all around them, the words suddenly had a very real meaning.

The trainers next appeared from their separate entrance and removed the chains that bound the ten young gladiators together. The boys were then each introduced, not just to the live audience, but to billions of viewers all over the world. They were called by number only and stepped forward one by one.

Under Mike Brussard's direction, the camera teams moved in to get close-up shots of each boy as his number, age and vital statistics were announced over the public address system.

"There's Josh," Lindsay Andrews said as she and Matt sat in the family room watching the premiere of the show. "Oh my god, they shaved his head 3; "

The boys' father nodded. "But he looks good, Lin. Strong little guy, isn't he? He'll be a winner." Matthew chose not to mention that he'd noticed how full the boy's leather pouch was, and how large the contents hidden beneath it appeared to be. 'Chip off the old block,' he thought smugly, proud of his youngest son's exceptionally large genitals.

Lindsay stared at him. She had never been entirely happy at her husband's relaxed attitude about the fact that they had essentially sold both of their sons into slavery. "I don't want to think about what will happen to him if he loses." Her reaction when Chris was introduced was a little more subdued. She didn't worry quite so much about her teenaged son. And he had signed up willingly.

Matthew was impressed at his oldest son's appearance. He looked brave and determined. Matthew also chose not to mention that he'd placed some rather large bets on Chris' performance over the next few weeks. His wife simply would not understand. Some things were best left unspoken.

The boys had all been introduced, their pictures and stats, all in flashy graphics up on the big view screen and on televisions all across the world. William Durand, from his luxury box in the first row, stood up and officially welcomed the crowd. Young Trevor was chained to his master's chair and would be forced to stand for the entire event. He was wearing a bright blue speedo today, and his hair had been freshly trimmed and styled, long locks flowing down his smooth slender neck and resting upon his shoulders. He was, more than anything, a status symbol, and Durand wanted everyone to get a good look at him.

After a few brief words of welcome, Durand opened the competition. "We will start Worldwide Boy Gladiators with a traditional sport practiced by the gladiators of ancient times. Favored among the Greeks and Romans for keeping young boys fit and disciplined."

The trainers all approached their boys and proceeded to rub oil over their skin until the ten lads were glistening in the bright lights. The gentle rubbing and massaging had another side effect as most of the boys now sported nice hard erections constrained within their leather pouches. The cameras were quick to notice this and roars of approval went up from the crowd as the images were flashed onto the big screen.

"Looks like both our boys our enjoying themselves, Lin," Matthew Andrews said, noting the large and obvious swellings between his sons' legs.

"They most certainly are not!" the boys' mother snapped back. "Honestly, Matt, sometimes I wonder why I married you. Those are your sons, and you're talking about them like they're animals or 3; "

"Or slaves, Lin. That's what they are. For now. Sit back and enjoy the show. Let's watch our boys kick ass."

Wrestling, was, of course, the sport to which William Durand inferred. The boys were randomly paired by the computer in the control booth and immediately all ten of them were grappling their opponents, or trying to. It was difficult to get any kind of grip with their bare bodies slick from the oils. Three pins were required for a match victory, and each boy was allowed to lose two matches before being eliminated.

Not surprisingly, the three most experienced wrestlers, Daniel, Alexei and Josh, quickly made their skills and agility apparent. Josh got three pins against eleven-year-old Ian in less than fifteen minutes. He and Ian had to wait until the others were finished before they found out who they'd be wrestling next. Both of them were led to the five-foot [1.50m] high wall that surrounded the arena and chained by their collars to iron rings embedded there for just this purpose.

Daniel struggled at first against Illya, who though not the oldest was the tallest and heaviest of the boys, a foot taller than twelve-year-old Danny and almost twenty pounds [9kg] heavier. If Illya had chosen to, he probably could have simply sat on the younger boy's chest and held him down, but the young Russian had an inconvenient sense of fairness that wouldn't allow him to do it, not to mention a trainer who was also his older brother who would have surely beaten him senseless. Danny won his first match and pumped his fist excitedly, drawing great fanfare from the audience.

Alexei dispatched Gabriel Shelton with relative ease in a battle of two twelve-year-olds.

Round by round the matches continued. Miles, Ian, Philippe and David were the first four to be eliminated. They would spend the rest of the competition chained to the arena wall, looking on and enduring the jeers and lewd comments of the spectators immediately above them. Poor David had beer spilled over his head, or more likely poured. It burned his eyes, but it tasted rather good as it dribbled past his lips.

The matches continued until four boys were left. Josh, Alexei, Chris and Danny. Christopher was rather pleased with himself, being the only non-wrestler to make it this far. The three younger boys, all with more wrestling medals than they could count nudged him playfully in congratulations, each of them also secretly hoping he'd be their next opponent. He had the advantage of size and strength, but compared to the three young sinewy grapplers he was clumsy and slow.

"Single elimination begins now," the voice of the announcer rang out over the crowd. "Boy Zero-Two is undefeated. He gets the honor of choosing his next opponent."

Josh didn't have to think about it for even a second. He pointed at his older brother. Chris sneered at him.

"You had help last time, little brother," the young teenager said, full of energy and testosterone. "You are so going down!"

The brothers didn't even wait for the whistle to blow or their trainers to get in position to referee the match. They had to be pulled apart and made to wait until the show came back from a commercial break before they could settle things. Like most serious athletes, the two boys achieved a certain high from competition, and standing around waiting to kick your brother's butt was strictly no fun.

"Come on, come ooonn," Josh whined, wondering when Hannah would release her strong grip on his shoulders. Finally the director signaled they were back on the air. Hannah set her little gladiator loose with a swift smack on his rump.

Josh and Chris rushed toward each other, and locked arms. Chris was big enough to man-handle (or boy-handle) his brother rather easily under normal circumstances, but the eleven-year-old was so charged up, and still so slippery from the oil, that Chris wasn't able to get a solid grasp on the four-and-one-half foot [1.37m] tall boy. Josh dropped low and wrapped his arms around Chris' legs. With a swift move, he knocked the young teen off balance. Chris landed hard on his butt and let out a loud curse. No way he was letting his little brother beat him. Narrowly escaping a pin, Chris kicked out from under Josh's body and got his hands around the smaller boy's narrow waist. He had the leverage he needed now and quickly flipped Josh onto his back.

Jason and Hannah both agreed it was a pin and blew their whistles. The Andrews brothers were quickly on their feet again. It took three pins to win. Josh was pissed. The boys grappled again, grunting and groaning and struggling with each other. They didn't say a word.

Alexei and Daniel meanwhile were putting on an equally hard-fought match. The cheering of the crowds grew louder as the pins began to mount.

"Pin," the announcer called out as Daniel put Alexei on the ground for the third time. "Match to Zero-Five."

Daniel jumped up and pumped his fist at the crowd, enjoying the thrill of victory and the applause of the audience. For a moment he completely forgot that he was standing there in an iron slave collar, wearing only a rather less-than-modest leather pouch over his genitals.

"Pin," the announcer called again a scant second later. The crowd fell hushed and waited the results. "Match to Zero-Two."

More loud calls of approval from the spectators as Josh rose victorious and stood straddling over his brother's middle.

Chris was mad about losing, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it. He crawled out from under his gloating brother and presented himself to Jason to be chained to the wall with the other boys who'd already been eliminated.

Josh and Daniel now stood toe to toe, ready to fight it out. Another commercial break gave their trainers a few minutes to water them and spray some antiseptic on their skinned knees and elbows. Once the show resumed, the two boys were marched to the center of the arena. There the leather pouches were removed. They would be fighting the final match stark naked.

As a consequence of their exertions and excitement, both Josh and Daniel sported firm erections. Josh, with nearly six inches [15cm] of hard cock jutting out from his small eleven-year-old body, and twelve-year-old Daniel, with his small barely three-inch [7½cm] boner calling attention to itself by throbbing insistently as he stood there. Daniel had as yet not been told that the drugs they were making him take would very shortly put a permanent end to his erections. Already he was suspicious that his pathetic little dick was getting even smaller, but he'd convinced himself he was just being paranoid.

Leather straps were wrapped tight and buckled around their respective genitals, ensuring both boys maintained their erections for the duration of the match. The crowd roared its approval and flash bulbs went off everywhere. Josh's almost comically large penis was a particular hit with the audience.

The two boys went at it immediately as the camera's moved in to get the closest shots possible without interfering with the match. Neither Josh nor Daniel were even aware of the cameramen hovering around them, covering their battle from all angles. Evenly matched, their contest went back and forth for nearly fifteen minutes. Rolling around on the ground together, their hard penises were being subjected to constant stimulation.

'Oh no! Not now!' Josh felt an orgasm building and promptly had one, gasping and thrashing around madly as his cock surged with a powerful dry cum. His moment of ecstasy cost him dearly, as Daniel quickly pinned the younger boy's shoulders.

The cameras, of course, captured every second of Josh's climax and replayed it in slow motion. The crowd shouted and cheered, all thrilled to witness a young boy experiencing a shattering dry orgasm, watching him thrust his hips desperately for a release that was still impossible for the pre-pubescent boy to achieve. Best of all, or worst of all for Josh, the he maintained a stiffy even after his wild gyrations had ceased.

"You gotta learn to control that thing," Daniel smirked as Josh struggled back to his feet.

"Shut up and wrestle, limp dick!" Josh snapped back, charging forward and wrapping his arms around Danny's middle.

In the end it was Josh who was victorious. He managed to avoid any further dry cums, even though his penis remained rock hard the entire time. Danny was, probably, the better wrestler, but Josh, starting the day in last place, was far more motivated. He pinned the young red-head for the third time, but was too exhausted to do much celebrating. All totaled he had wrestled eight of the boys and beaten them all. He rolled off of Danny and lay there on his back, panting and sore, his erection pointing up toward his belly button.

Hannah quickly approached and stood over the prone boy. "Get your little ass up. Acknowledge the crowd and give the camera a big smile. Come on."

Josh got to his feet and bowed to the crowd as he'd been trained. He flashed the required smile to the cameraman.

Josh just stared at her. It was bad enough having one by accident in front of everyone, and all those cameras. No way he was going to stand by himself in the center of the arena and yank on his sausage.

"Don't ruin a good thing, boy," Hannah warned him sternly. "I'll give you one more chance to do as you're told."

The threat in her voice told him she meant business. Reluctantly, Josh wrapped his hand around his dick and started pumping for all he was worth. To the continued cheers and chants of the crowd, Josh brought himself to a second dry cum, this one even stronger than the first.

The rest of the boys were unchained from the wall and marched back to the center of the arena floor. They were told to remove the leather pouches that covered their boyhood. The boys stepped out them quickly and now all ten of them were naked, their cocks and balls on display to a worldwide audience for the first, but certainly not the last time. On the overhead scoreboard, the points for the first event were rewarded. Josh looked up hopefully, only to be greatly disappointed to find himself still in last place. He'd closed the gap with Gabriel who was now only thirty points ahead of him, but his name was still on the bottom.

As Josh was trying to figure out how he could win and still be dead last, the next event was announced.

"And now our boy gladiators will participate in their first test of endurance," the announcer said. A hush of anticipation fell over the crowd. "Weight training."

A single cart was wheeled in by one of the mules. On it were ten leather straps and a large number of round lead weights of various sizes. The weights were, of course, meant for the boys' balls, and the training would involve seeing which boy could take the most weight and still remain on his feet, all while they were forced to run laps around the edge of the arena floor.

The boys looked at each other nervously, and more than a few of them absent-mindedly clasped their hands over their scrotums and the tender nuggets inside them. Demerits for touching themselves were quickly rewarded. Poor Josh lost five of the ten points he'd just gained on Gabriel.

Viewers around the world saw the leather ball stretchers being strapped in place around each boy's scrotum, tugging their balls downward. They watched as each boy's wrists were chained behind his back, then pulled sharply and painfully upward and connected by another chain to a ring at the back of the boy's collar. It was, essentially, the classic reverse prayer position. The pain in the boy's arms and shoulders would be every bit as terrible as the pain he would soon be feeling in his balls. Just as the first of the weights were about to be attached, the show's fancy logo filled the screen.

'Worldwide Boy Gladiators will be right back. You're watching XB1, the leader in extreme action broadcasting!'

When the show returned, the boys were all standing with their legs spread wide apart as their trainers hung the first of the lead weights from their balls. They would each start with half a pound [225g], and additional weight would be added after each lap around the arena. Ten-year-old Miles, who's balls hadn't really even dropped yet thought it terribly unfair that he had to have the same weights as the older boys. His trainer was Alex Wright, the oldest of the trainers and generally the most gentle, an appropriate choice for looking after the smallest gladiator. He gave the little boy a smack on the butt as he worked to tighten the leather strap a bit more, forcing the ten-year-old's tiny nuts down into his soft pink sack.

"Don't want these little things going back up there, do we?" he asked in a warm English accent.

"I guess not, sir," Miles replied doubtfully, not entirely sure he liked having his balls tugged on.

Once all the boys had the first of the weights dangling from their ball bags, the contest began. It wasn't really a race. The boys were expected to keep a jogging pace, but no one was going to get points for finishing the lap first. The trainers did stand ready with their electric prods to give any lagging boys a quick jolt.

Half a pound [225g] wasn't all that bad, even for the boys with the smallest balls. On the first lap it was the pain from having their arms bound back behind them, and the humiliation of running around with a weight swinging from your nuts that gave them the most trouble. The boys pretty much stayed together and finished the first lap as a group. The crowd applauded, not for the boys, but because they knew more weights were now going to be added.

Again the boys lined up and spread their legs to receive another half-pound [225g] weight. They now had a full pound [450g] pulling on their balls. The difference was surprising. All of the boys gasped and groaned when their trainers released the weights and let them fall between their legs. With their arms bound behind them, they were utterly helpless to do anything about it. They wiggled their hips and moaned, quickly discovering that any movement only caused the weights to swing and pull even harder.

Off they went again, this time with grimaced expressions on their innocent young faces. Keeping the required pace was difficult and all of them received a not-too-gentle reminder from the prods. The crowd was growing more raucous as the boys completed their second lap.

The third weight to be added was a full pound [450g]. Two pounds [900g] now hung from each boy's balls, and the stretching of their scrotums, even on the younger boys, was becoming noticeable. Their testicles had turned a dark shade of red, and close inspection would reveal tiny little purple veins beginning to show through the soft hairless skin of their swinging ball bags.

As he ran around the arena, Chris felt like his balls were all the way down to his knees. In fact they had been stretched a good inch [2½] lower than they normally hung, and the weights continued to pull them downward. The thirteen-year-old wondered just how much he could take, and just how low his balls could be made to hang.

Two pounds [900g] proved to be the limit for six of the boys, all of whom staggered and dropped to their knees before completing the lap. With their hands bound tightly behind them, there was no relief from the pain. They were left there kneeling on the floor of the arena as the four remaining boys stood bravely waiting for the next addition of weight to their sore and swollen testicles.

Chris, Illya, David and Philippe, the four oldest boys, watched silently as the smaller weights were removed and a pair of two pound [900g] weights were connected to the ball-stretchers around their scrotums. They would be carrying four pounds [1.8kg] of weight for this lap. Just standing with the large lead spheres dangling between their legs was an exercise in agony. It quickly became obvious to the young teens that running was going to be nearly impossible.

"Move those gorgeous legs, boys!" Jason yelled. The brandishing of the electric prods was enough to motivate them. They moved off together, starting the next lap. The boys hobbled and winced and moaned out loud as every step set the weights, and their balls, swinging. The pain, which had started as a dull ache was getting progressively worse. Not exactly like getting kicked down there, but close enough. All of them were sweating and panting as they worked their way around the arena. Unable to clutch their aching nuts, the boys struggled forward. The best any of them could manage was an awkward double-time trot. David was the first to stop, lean his body against the wall and slide down to the ground, breathing a huge sigh of relief as the weights stopped tugging on his sack.

Chris managed a few more steps before he decided to give up. He didn't want to, but he couldn't get his legs to work. At least the two remaining boys were older than he was. Losing to a younger boy had already become an unspoken stigma among the gladiators. The thirteen-year-old stopped and stared up at the crowd. "Keep moving you little animal," one of the nearest spectators yelled down at him. Several others picked up on it and showered the young teenager with jeers.

Chris wanted to yell back at them, but he didn't dare. He would have flashed them all the finger, but of course his hands were bound behind his back. The only defiance he could manage was sticking his tongue out at them, which of course seemed rather childish in retrospect, but what else could a boy do?

'What a bunch of sickos,' he thought. Then, following David's lead, he rested his shoulders against the wall and slowly went down to his knees. He watched as Illya and Philippe struggled on.

The French and Russian boys were side by side. Both of them were suffering, but neither of them were going to give in first. As they shuffled toward the finish line, they started nudging each other, trying to knock their opponent off balance. They both understood that if they both finished this lap, even more weight would be added to their balls. They pushed at each other and tried to trip each other's feet. Illya, though younger, was taller and heavier and eventually is size and superior strength won out. He slammed into the French boy as hard as he could. Both boys shouted in agony as the four-pound [1.8kg] weights yanked hard on their balls. Philippe stumbled and fell forward, hands bound behind him, hitting his shoulder hard on the arena floor. He cried out, but mostly in anger. His shoulder was bruised, but nothing was broken. He managed to get back to his knees, but he didn't have the strength to stand up and endure the weights again.

Illya felt bad about knocking the other boy out of the contest, but no one was getting points for being nice. He crossed the finish line. The only boy still on his feet. The crowd erupted as the announcer broke in.

Thirteen-year-old Illya stood there, his already man-sized six-inch [15cm] cock hanging limp between his legs, his balls stretched painfully downward. The cheers were for him, but he could only think about the pain and how much he wanted those weights taken off. His brother and trainer, Sergei approached him and gave him a good-natured smack on the cheek.

Sergei did remove the four-pound [1.8kg] lead ball, but replaced it with the two of the smaller one-pound [450g] weights. "I think we'll keep some weight on these for a while," he said. Illya gave him a wounded look, but he'd already learned that Sergei was not about to show him any mercy just because they were brothers. In fact, the opposite seemed to be true, much to his confusion and dismay. He used to love his big brother. Now he was really starting to hate him.

With Illya's victory in the very first endurance contest, the opening events came to a close and the first live worldwide broadcast came to an end. The schedule for the rest of the day was shown on the scoreboard and the crowd broke up. The boys were all marched below, the weights removed (except for Illya) and their arms released from their painful bondage. For the rest of the day, the boys would rotate through various events at venues across the island. The finale would be the very first chariot race, held under the lights that evening and televised to a prime-time audience.

Chapter 23
The Chariot Race

They tripped and stumbled and fell as they tried to complete a two-mile [3km] run. Often several of them went down together, resulting in a tangled pile of sweaty boys. Gabriel and Danny, who were normally partners anyway, were the first to finally work things out and keep their balance. Josh was paired with Chris' partner Alexei, with rather disastrous results. Both boys were rather headstrong and they both kept trying to lead rather than work together. In the end they found themselves off balance and trailing far behind all the other teams.

Keenly aware of his last place position, and the frightful consequences that awaited him if he remained there, Josh yelled at Alexei in frustration. "Dammit! We gotta catch up! I can't finish last, man!" As he said it they both tripped each other and hit the dirt. Josh was beginning to get a very bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

'I'm gonna be last,' he kept thinking miserably to himself. 'I'm totally screwed.'

The dinner break that evening was a noisy one. The boys were tired but highly charged up from the days' events. They ravenously devoured their meals and talked and argued about the contests so far. Their new lives as boy gladiators were harsh, but they were all intensely competitive, and now that the games had officially begun, they were becoming less and less concerned about their nakedness and the many humiliations they were forced to endure each day. It was, after all, all a part of the show, and they had (for the most part) all willingly volunteered to do it.

Finished eating, but still feeling rather hungry, the boys were taken outside, lined up against the wall of the barracks and quickly hosed down by the guards. Large pressure hoses were used, firing strong jets of cold water at the defenseless boys. With water still dripping from their flanks, they were again chained in a single file, ready to march to the day's final event.

The lights were already on above the hippodrome, and every seat was filled with eager spectators. More guests had flown in during the day, exclusively to see this particular event. Once the boys reached the staging area, just outside the entry tunnel the chains connecting them were removed. But only temporarily. The five older lads, who would be boy ponies for the remainder of the evening, were separated from the group. A leather lead, about three feet [90cm] long, was clasped to the ring on the front of each boy's collar.

The five younger boys were freed of the shackles at their wrists and ankles. The ponies continued wearing theirs. They would not be unfettered until they were inside the hippodrome. Bits were put into the pony boys' mouths and strapped tightly in place. The rest of their gear would be put on in the pavilion, under the watchful gaze of the crowd.

Jason gave the youngest boys their first instructions. "Take your pony's lead and have him stand behind you."

With a few nervous giggles from the little guys this was done. The older boys were all somewhat red-faced at this latest humiliation, being placed under the charge of a younger boy. For their part the little fellows loved it, and immediately began teasing their partners.

"You will march onto the track in single file," Jason continued after the boys had quieted down a bit. "Keep your pony close to you. There should always be some slack in the lead. You will walk your pony around the track two times, then you will put him into a trot, just as we trained you. Don't let him get away from you. When the horn sounds, bring your pony boy into the pavilion and we'll help you get him into his gear and get you boys mounted on your carts."

The five teams quickly scurried along the tunnel, the younger boys practically dragging their older and much less enthusiastic partners behind them. The hippodrome looked a lot different than it had earlier in the day. The enormous digital vid-screens were on at both ends of the venue, and under the lights everything seemed somehow much larger. The crowd filled the stands on both sides of the two long straightaways. The VIP sections were located along the turns, since the boys would have to slow down at those points, affording the influential visitors a good close up look at their smooth athletic young bodies and ample opportunity for photographs.

The speaker system was blaring Gustav Holst's 'Mars', an appropriate choice as the five boy charioteers and their five boy ponies entered.

As instructed, the youngsters led their older partners around the track. None of them were afraid to give a good hard tug on the lead if their pony hesitated or didn't keep pace. For the most part, the older boys kept their heads down and followed along obediently behind.

Looking up at the viewscreens as they approached the first turn, several of the pairs slowed down. It was the first time they had actually seen themselves the way the entire world (or at least a fairly large percentage of it) was now seeing them.

'Wow!' Josh thought to himself. 'I'm getting bigger muscles already.' It was certainly true. After only one week of harsh non-stop training, all of the boys' bodies were even firmer, tighter and stronger than they had been when they'd first arrived on Gladiator Island.

Flash bulbs went off all around the track as the five teams completed their final circuit. At the sounding of the horn, the younger boys lead their partners to the pavilion. There, with the cameras hovering close by, the pony boys were freed of their shackles and strapped into their body harnesses. Their chastity devices were removed, resulting in five throbbing erections, which were, for the most part, ignored. They were put into their head harnesses next, and the leather reins attached to the bits already in their mouths.

The carts were already lined up in position. Now strapped into their gear, the five pony boys were chained to the two-wheeled chariots and left standing while the drivers got ready.

Josh, Ian, Miles, and Daniel were all freed of their chastity belts, and Alexei's cock cage was removed. The same leather pouches they'd worn during the morning wrestling matches were put on, accentuating their youthful boyish packages. The pouch somehow made Josh's impressive endowment look even bigger than it was, a fact everyone except Josh himself seemed to have noticed.

Knee and elbow pads went on next, followed by the protective gloves. Last came the whimsical and rather garish helmets, each one different from the other. All of them were designed to protect the boy's head should he fall off or his cart overturn, but they were also meant to recall the headgear worn by the gladiators of ancient times. Josh's was plated in silver and had a large crest of blue feathers running down the center. Alexei's was cast in an eagle motif, and even had bronze talons that curved down over his ears. Little Miles' helmet was covered on the outside with brown leather and looked rather primitive and medieval, especially with the two horns protruding out from either side.

"Get up there, little Viking," his trainer Alex said, affectionately smacking the ten-year-old's cute bare butt. All of the boys were too short to step onto their chariots without a boost from their trainers. Miles was the first to find himself standing on the platform looking down at his partner's back. He took the reins and wrapped the ends around his gloved hands. In just a matter minutes, all of the drivers had mounted their carts and were ready to guide their boy ponies onto the track.

The start-finish line was a single row of paving bricks set into the hard-packed dirt. With the trainers walking on either side, the young drivers snapped the reins and the older boys began pulling, straining forward at first and digging their feet in. Getting the chariots moving was the hardest part and took every ounce of each boy's strength. After a few moments of painful groaning and grunting, the carts left the pavilion and made their way onto the track. The crowd rose to its feet and fell silent as the five teams got into position, the pony boys standing with their toes on the edge of brick line. With a few final private words to their teams, the trainers hurried back to the pavilion. The start of the fifteen-lap race was now seconds away.

From his VIP box along the first turn, William Durand rose to his feet and raised his hand. Beside him, young Trevor, still dressed in his sharp blue speedo, held the green start flag. He unfurled it gracefully and raised it in his arms high above his head. His master gave him a quick nod and the fourteen-year-old dropped the flag to a roar of approval from the spectators.

The dropping of flag coincided with the sounding of a loud horn. That was the boys' signal to begin. The five young drivers snapped the reins and the five young cart-pullers stepped off the line, moving their legs faster and faster with each stride. All five of the handsome boy ponies still maintained their turgid erections, much to the delight of the crowd.

It would be natural to assume that the biggest, oldest boys, paired with the smallest youngest ones, would have a distinct advantage in the race. However, the chariots themselves all had different weights, so that together the cart and the boy on it weighed essentially the same for all five teams. Thus Philippe, with the barely sixty-five-pound [30kg] Miles as his driver, was actually pulling as much total weight as Chris, who had ninety-three-pound [42kg] Alexei behind him piloting the cart.

If the young drivers thought they had the easier job, they quickly learned they were mistaken. During practice it had been relatively easy for them, guiding and goading their chained and harnessed partners around the hippodrome. Now, suddenly, there were four more teams on the track and the pace was a lot faster as they raced each other. The turns were most difficult. The strength of the older boys' legs as they powered around the tight curves was enough to knock the younger boys off balance. Josh and the other drivers struggled to hang on and keep their hold on the older boys' reins.

"Slow down in the corners, David!" Josh yelled, as the chariot nearly went up on one wheel. Their speed, powered only the strength of a fourteen-year-old boy was not really all that great, but the chariots were highly sensitive and rather top heavy. He pressed the button directly in front of him, giving David a quick but nasty electrical shock. The teenaged boy groaned in protest, but did as he was ordered. Two teams passed them coming out of the turn, but Josh knew with David's long legs they could easily catch up.

David didn't need to be shocked to figure that part out. His initial anger had faded when realized that Josh actually had a good plan. He could close the distance with the other carts fairly easily on the straight-aways. He was the one of the tallest boys, with the longest strides. Slowing down in the corners would cost them some position, but it would keep the chariot stable and give them their best chance to win.

"That's one lap down, Gabe," Danny O'Hanlon shouted to his partner. They were currently first, with Josh and David close behind them. "Just keep running and go where I tell you." The twelve-year-old red-head looked back and saw that their lead was disappearing fast. There was no way they were going to stay in front and he was smart enough to know it. "I'm gonna let them pass us, Gabe. It's a long race. Get over to the wall and let 'em by."

Gabriel grunted into his bit and moved the cart towards the outer edge of the track. David and Josh went by them on the inside.

"Eat our dust, suckers!" Josh said, flashing a triumphant fist at the two twelve-year-olds. Danny gave Josh the finger, but he wasn't worried. He and Gabriel had worked out their plan the night before. As an accomplished soccer and rugby player, young Gabe was used to running hard for long periods of time. They'd decided to go at a steady pace at first, with Danny not letting Gabe run full out right away. The two boys were going to make their move over the last three laps, when Danny would basically let go of the reins and hold on for dear life and let Gabriel run as hard and fast as his legs could carry him.

The lead changed hands several times for the next ten laps. Each team found themselves in front at least once, and all of them remained close together. Things got interesting in the turns when two or three teams would try to pass each other on the narrowest part of the track. The crowd cheered wildly every time the chariots brushed against each other. The boy drivers held on tightly, needing every ounce of their strength and boyish athleticism to keep from tumbling off onto the dusty track.

The first real collision occurred on the eleventh lap, when Alexei and Chris tried to pass Ian and Illya on the outside of the second turn, directly in front of the VIPs. Ian yanked hard on the reins and moved Illya out toward the wall. Alexei's only chance was to drive Chris forward as hard as he could and hope to complete the pass before they ran into each other. He snapped the reins and pushed the button, delivering a strong shock to young Chris in his harness and chains.

It didn't do any good. Chris couldn't speed up fast enough. The two chariots collided, their wheels scrapping together. Alexei lost his hold on the reins and fell backward off the cart, landing square on his cute little butt, his legs splayed out in front of him.

"I fell off!" the twelve-year-old Russian shouted to Chris, who immediately came to a stop,

the right wheel of the cart only inches from the wall. Chained to the chariot, there was nothing the young teen could do to help himself or his partner. He simply had to stand there in the harness and wait for Alexei to dust himself off and get back up. Since none of the boys were tall enough to mount the chariots on their own, he had to wait even longer for two of the mules to run onto the track and give Alexei a boost.

The mules were two of the oldest ones on the island. Both fifteen-years-old, they wore their usual gray slave smocks and each had been put into a pair of shiny latex shorts with locking straps around their waists and thighs. They ran out the instant Alexei got to his feet. The other chariots had gone on, but were still moving down the first straightaway. The mules quickly got the boy gladiator back onto his chariot and ran back to their holding area just outside the pavilion.

Alexei wrapped the leather reins around his wrists again and gave them a firm snap. "Let's go!" he shouted, pressing the button again.

Chris growled and grunted and pulled forward with all his thirteen-year-old might. They were moving again, but by the time Chris got the cart back up to full speed, they were far behind.

At the start of the thirteenth lap, Josh and David were back in the lead. Two places behind them, Danny decided it was time to make their move.

The harnessed twelve-year-old nodded eagerly into his bit. Their strategy had paid off so far. His legs felt great. He wasn't even tired yet. Danny let go of the reins and gripped the hand rails as hard as he could. He squatted down. He couldn't even see the track now. He didn't need to. He could feel the cart rocking under his feet and shift his balance accordingly. Squatting down also lowered the cart's center of mass, although he was too young to understand this, making it more stable.

"Go! Go! GO!" he shouted to his partner. He heard Gabriel let out a loud shout and immediately felt the cart picking up speed. They passed Philippe and Miles in just under one lap and closed fast on Josh and David.

With one lap left, Gabe had brought them right up behind the leading team. Danny popped his head up for just an instant. "Who's the sucker now, dick-wipe!" he shouted ahead at Josh.

David tried his best, but his young body was already spent, his fourteen-year-old legs exhausted. Only his long strides allowed them to keep the lead at his point but he was slowing down with each step.

With Danny nestled down in the chariot again, Gabriel saw his opening and took it. He moved inside at the very end of the straightaway. As the two teams started the last turn side by side, Gabriel's strength and Danny's strategy finally paid off. He made the pass and kept on going. He could not see behind him, but his focus was only on the track ahead and the waving flag at the far end of the second straightaway.

Driven almost to collapse, David began to stumble on the last stretch. Two more teams passed them just as Gabriel and Danny crossed the finish line first. Ian and Illya came in second. Miles and Philippe were third. Josh and David wound up fourth, and Alexei and Chris came in fifth, one lap behind everyone else.

"Victory. Boy Zero-Five!" the public-address system announced. No mention was made of Gabriel who, as the boy pony in this event, did not merit such consideration. He would get credit on the scoreboard for the victory, but he received no acknowledgement for his hard labor chained and harnessed to the chariot. Normally a bit of a hot head, quick to point out when things struck him as unfair, Gabriel was, at the moment, simply too tired to care.

Danny stepped down from the cart and, under his trainer's instruction, led Gabriel around the track by the reins. A victory lap, humiliating for Gabriel, which allowed the assembled crowd to take photographs and get a good look at the winning boys.

Once gathered again under the shade of the pavilion, the younger boys were given water and then helped their trainers release the older boys from the chariots. The harnesses and bits were removed and the pony boys all slumped over in exhaustion, grabbing their knees with their hands and gasping for breath. They were then watered too, desperately sucking down the contents of the plastic drinking bottles they were given. All the boys were then assembled together and allowed to sit on the ground while the spectators filed out of the hippodrome. The sun had set and the damp humid night air had already set in. The smell of coming rain was strong and all the boys breathed in deeply.

"You boys can talk now," Jason said, giving a general order to the older boys that their speaking privileges had been restored. As they sat in a single group, watching the stands slowly emptying, they said very little to each other. With their chastity devices removed and their trainers ignoring them for the moment, quite a few of them fiddled with their dicks and balls, achieving a few short-lived erections before the trainers returned and called them back to attention. None of the boys were caught playing with themselves but they all wore guilty expressions that spoke volumes.

"Boys, we're going to pretend we didn't see anything," Jason told them as the ten trainers stood looking down at the misbehaving young males. "We were going to let you all sleep without wearing your chastity devices tonight, but you've just lost that privilege."

The chariot race was the climax of the day's events and now that it was over, the first day of competition had drawn to a close. Ten very tired and dirty boys stood there quietly, some of them already yawning, all of them looking forward to falling onto their bunks. They were chained again in single file, David in front, little Miles bringing up the rear as always. The younger boys remained in their leather pouches. The older lads remained naked, with their now flaccid cocks swinging provocatively between their slender legs. The boys would all be locked into their chastity devices once they got back to the barracks. The camera crews were still on hand to record the scene as the exhausted boys were marched away. Ten adorable boy butts on display as they walked in line, chained by their collars. Careful observation would reveal that they had remained plugged the entire time, the silvery ends of their metal plugs just visible between their perfect round globes.

The gate to the barracks was buzzed open by the guard on duty and the boys were marched through. Once inside the building they were unchained and assembled in front of the scoreboard. Saturday night marked the official end of scorekeeping for the week, so the totals glowing on the board were final. In first place was Daniel O'Hanlon. He had received virtually no demerits during the week and had done well enough in the competitions to make him the winner. Second went to Illya Casparev whose overall performance in the day's competitions had raised his score substantially. Last, predictably, was poor Josh. He'd done quite well in the events, but his smart mouth and continued problem with unauthorized erections had earned him so many demerits that all the first place finishes in the world would not have helped him. He stood there with a glum expression on his face as the other boys congratulated Danny and Illya.

"You two will get your reward tomorrow afternoon," Jason explained. "And you, Zero-Three will begin your punishment."

At that moment, Roger and Anthony brought in a device that the boys had not yet seen. It was a large wheel, with different colored segments, numbers and words on it. The wheel was mounted on a sturdy metal stand. They positioned it next to the scoreboard. The boys all stared at it dumbfounded.

"Boys, this is the punishment wheel," Jason explained. "Tomorrow afternoon, Zero-Two

will spin the wheel once. He will receive whatever punishment comes up. Zero-Two, you may look at the wheel tonight if you want, and see what kinds of punishments you might be given. You will not touch the wheel or spin it without being told. That goes for all of you. We have more punishments for you than the wheel can hold, so they will change each week."

The rest of the boys all looked at Josh, silently goading him to step forward and study the wheel. They all wanted to know what kind of things were on it. Josh shook his head and stepped back behind everyone else.

"I'll wait 'til tomorrow, sir," he said softly. "I don't want to know what's on it."

Jason nodded. "I wouldn't look either, boy. You'll learn soon enough. Alright guys," he clapped his hands to get their attention, "hit the showers! We're giving you twenty minutes in there tonight. The water will be warm. You can wash your own dicks tonight. The guards will supervise you. If you are uncircumcised, your penises will be inspected when you're done, and they'd better be clean."

A warm shower was already becoming a rare treat for the boys and they eagerly ran to the showers. There was a little horseplay and splashing, but the night guards watching them closely, they were, mostly, very well behaved. As Chris washed his genitals he realized it was the first time in a week that he had touched his own penis. It swelled up and lengthened slightly under his touch, but it still hung soft between his legs when he stepped from the water. The guard tossed him a towel and he quickly dried off and went back out to the common area where the chastity cage was again secured around his genitals. The other boys followed a few at a time, each having their boy-parts locked away.

The boys were then given a piece of fruit. They sat down at the table and ate. Ian and David were taken out to call their parents in Australia. The rest of the boys spent their remaining free time talking quietly or lying on their bunks already half-asleep. At exactly 2330 hours, the boys were locked into their cells and the lights were turned off. Josh lay there for the longest time, staring up into the darkness. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the wheel.

'I should have looked at it,' he thought. Finally the eleven-year-old rolled over and fell asleep, his right hand between his legs, caressing the metal plate that encased his genitals. He had some very unpleasant dreams, the most memorable one in which his body was strapped to a gigantic version of the punishment wheel, stretching his limbs painfully and spinning him around until he felt sick to his stomach. He woke up drenched in his own sweat.

Chapter 24
Punishment Day!

It was late afternoon when the boys were reassembled in the barracks. Danny and Illya received their rewards for finishing the week first and second. A cart was wheeled in by one of the mules. It was filled with snacks and candy bars and other goodies that young boys crave. The two winners were allowed to pick five items each.

"You can share if you wish," Jason told them, "but this is all you get. When it's gone, it's gone."

The two boys, normally kind-hearted, greedily squirreled their treasures away under their mattresses. "Nobody touch my stuff when I'm not in there," Danny warned when he came back out. Illya had similar words for his mates. The rest of the boys looked on with sad eyes as the cart was rolled out once again. What they wouldn't give for just one piece of candy.

With the winning boys receiving their awards, it was time for Josh to spin the wheel and find out what his punishment would be. The camera crews had already set up in the barracks when the boys were seated in front of the wheel. Josh was made to stand in front of them with his hands behind his head.

Once the cameramen signaled they were ready, Jason and Hannah called the eleven-year-old forward. Josh's legs suddenly didn't want to move and his cute little knees were knocking. He bit his fingers nervously.

"Boy Zero-Two," Jason began. "You finished last this week. You will be punished. Step in front of the wheel."

Josh did as he was told. He could see the wheel close up now and read some of the punishments listed on it. He promptly lost control of his bladder and peed himself. It filled the metal plate that encased his genitals and dribbled out onto the floor.

"Stop that!" Hannah yelled at him. "You'll be starting next week with ten demerits for urinating on the floor."

Josh's posture sagged even more. Not only was he the first boy to be punished, but now he was already ten points behind for next week. He swallowed hard and looked at the trainers expectantly.

Biting his lip, the boy stood up on his tip-toes and gave the wheel a hard spin. It went around twice before it started to slow down. Josh didn't even know what some of the punishments listed on the wheel were. There were words there he'd never heard or seen before. Others were all too clear. His little heart was pounding as the wheel slowed to a stop. Click, click, click, the wheel landed on a black colored section with white letters.

Over the next few years the boys would come to learn that the black spaces always indicated the harshest punishments. Red, yellow, green and white segments were also on the wheel.

Josh had to stand on his toes again to get a good view of what was written. "It says isolation and de 3; dep 3; deprivation 3;" the boy sounded the word out slowly. It was one he did not know, but it sure sounded real scary. "Twenty-four hours."

Jason and Hannah had grim expressions on their faces as the small boy turned to face them. Josh thought that he even saw a little hint of pity in their eyes. Somehow that did not make him feel better. Just the opposite actually. Pity from the trainers only meant that whatever his punishment was, it was going to be really, really awful.

Josh was terrified. He was going to be the first boy to receive punishment for finishing the week in last place. The punishment wheel had landed on something called 'Isolation/Deprivation'. Some of the other things sounded a lot scarier, and Josh wasn't really sure what either of those two words meant, but he was sure it wasn't good.

"Your punishment starts now, Zero-Two," Jason told the eleven-year-old boy. "You will not be returned to the barracks until it is over. Stand at attention."

A three-foot [90cm] length of chain was attached to Josh's collar and the boy was led out of the barracks, escorted by three of the trainers. He looked back at Chris with fear in his eyes. Chris knew there was nothing he could do to help his little brother, and he was rather ashamed at the feeling of relief that it was Josh and not him who was going to be punished. He tried to give Josh an encouraging smile, but it was empty and they both knew it.

Josh's first stop was medical. Doctor Trench explained he would be receiving four large enemas, one hour apart.

"This is the first part of your punishment," she told him as the boy got down on his hands and knees on the cold white tiles of bathroom area. "We need to get you cleaned out, since you won't be going to the bathroom for a while."

His butt-plug was removed and replaced with an inflatable enema nozzle. The eleven-year-old was still wearing his belt and he felt the frustrating discomfort of his penis trying to go hard beneath the confining metal plate. The doctor had not exaggerated. Josh was screaming when she finally stopped the flow of warm soapy water into his guts. And this was only the first one.

With the inflatable plug secured in his rectum, Josh really had no choice in the matter. With moist eyes and a distended belly he slowly got to his feet.

"Stand in the corner. Face the wall. Hands behind your head. I'll come get you when it's time to let it out. No talking."

The doctor sat down at her desk and went about her normal paperwork, occasionally glancing over at the young boy in the corner, locked in a chastity belt with nearly a liter of enema water sloshing around inside him. Josh was moaning and whimpering quietly, trying to count down the awful minutes in his head.

Back in the barracks, the boys were returning from their evening training sessions, all of them were winded, dirty, sore and tired. They were hosed down in a group outside the building before being allowed back into the common area. Josh, by that time, had been gone for about four hours. The guards brought in a television and set it up in front of the mess tables.

"Sit down on the floor, boys, in a single row," the matron ordered. Still dripping wet, the nine remaining gladiators quickly obeyed, crossing their slender hairless legs and looking up at the blank screen. Jason Sanborne, the head trainer, returned and stood in front of the seated boys.

"Boy Zero-Two finished last this week. He is the first one of you to be punished. Every week, one of you is going to spin that wheel," he gestured back to the ominous punishment wheel, which from now on would remain there in the barracks, a frightful reminder to all the boys what nasty fates awaited them if they failed. "Punishment is different from the discipline and correction you receive every day. It is meant to be extremely unpleasant and frightening. You will all experience it sooner or later, but as this is the first time, you are all going to watch the start of Zero-Two's ordeal, and you will help determine how long it lasts."

The screen flashed to life. It showed a small room, perfectly square. A single harsh bright floodlight was mounted above in the very center of the space. Everything in it was black. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, the inside surface of the heavy steel door, which was currently closed. Even the chains were painted black. They hung from heavy steel rings mounted to the walls and floor.

All of the young indentured boys sat up a little straighter and stared at the image on the screen. Even empty, the room was terrible. Suddenly, as they watched, the door swung open. Josh was lead inside by Hannah Dubose and Roger Bramley. They were handling him very roughly, much more so than the boys had come to expect from their trainers. He was totally naked. His iron collar and shackles had been removed, and the boy's chastity belt had been taken off as well. His long four-inch [10cm] cock was swinging freely between his legs as they moved him into position directly beneath the floodlight.

It was thick and made of black leather. It was pulled down over the eleven-year-old's head by Roger. Josh immediately freaked out and started to struggle. Hannah harshly grabbed the boy's testicles.

Josh, with his face and head now encased in the leather hood, did his best to obey. But he was more afraid right now than he had ever been in his life. The hood had a series of belts and straps that were tightened over his eyes, ears and mouth. There was a three-inch [7½cm] long penis gag inside the hood, and as the belt around his mouth was pulled taut, this was forced down his throat. He gagged against it and struggled again, shaking and yelping in a panicked high-pitched voice.

The interior of the hood was thickly padded all around. Once the straps outside were all tightened and locked with padlocks, Josh immediately discovered that he could not hear. He already knew he could not see or speak, but being condemned to absolute silence was a truly terrifying experience for an eleven-year-old boy. The hood had only two small holes in it, positioned so that he could breathe through his nose.

After just about twenty seconds in the hood, Josh became convinced that he couldn't breathe at all. Again he panicked. Roger's powerful hands held him still.

You will take a deep breath through your nose. You will do it now.

Josh obeyed and sucked in as much air as his lungs could take. He took a few more breaths and realized he wasn't about to suffocate. He started to calm down again, but the hood was horrible, and he knew he could not get out of it.

You will be kept in this room. You will not be able to see. You will not be able to hear. You will not be able to speak. You will not be able to eat. You will not be able to drink. You will not be able to sit down. Your movement will be restricted. You will have no contact with any other human being. You will be totally alone 3;

Back in the barracks, the boys were all staring dumbfounded at the cruel hood the trainers had put on Joshua's head.

"The hood will keep him from seeing or hearing anything," Jason explained. "There's also a rather large gag built into it, which is currently stuffed in his mouth, so he isn't able to speak either. Right now he's breathing through two little holes."

The boys all fidgeted nervously, and their anxiety only increased when they saw Doctor Trench enter the Black Room. She had a small medical case with her, which she set down on the floor.

"I'll get the cock and ball harness on him first," she told Hannah and Roger. "Then I'll insert the catheter. Hold him still for me, please."

With practiced skill, the doctor quickly locked Joshua's genitals into a leather harness specially designed to keep a boy's penis under strict control. A leather strap was buckled tightly around the eleven-year-old's genitals, forcing his testicles forward. In spite of his fear, or perhaps partly because of it, Josh immediately sprang a full erection.

This time however, that was the desired effect. "It's easier to catheterize a boy when his penis is at least semi-erect," Trench explained. "And afterwards the harness will ensure he remains in that state for long periods of time."

The cock harness portion of the device consisted of three steel rings, all connected to each other by a pair of leather straps which in turn were attached with sturdy rivets to the main strap around the boy's genitals. The first ring was nestled snuggly at the base of Josh's penis and was just small enough to ensure that the four-inch [10cm] long organ would remain at least semi-erect more often than not. The second ring fit tightly around the middle of Josh's penis and had the additional function of forcing the boy's foreskin back as far as it could comfortably go. The third ring was fitted over and nestled just behind the now exposed head of the boy's penis.

"It is a diabolical little device," the doctor went on. "The ring at the base of his shaft is trying to keep his dick hard. The ring behind his cockhead is trying to make him go soft. And of course the middle ring his keeping his foreskin stretched back. Uncircumcised boys find this particularly frustrating and uncomfortable."

Josh of course could neither see nor hear any of this, but he could certainly feel the harness tightly engulfing his penis.

"Now for the catheter. Then you can continue with his punishment. Pin his arms behind his back, please."

Roger Bramley, normally Gabriel's trainer, quickly locked Josh's wrists in a firm grip and pulled them roughly behind the boy's back. Through the small earphone inside the hood, Josh was given the following terrifying warning, once again in that same droning, mechanical voice.

'You are having a catheter inserted into your penis. If you move or resist, the procedure will be very unpleasant. This is your only warning.

Josh had no idea what a catheter was, but the words 'into your penis' were all too clear.

'They're gonna stick something in my dick!' the eleven-year-old thought in terror. He imagined a needle, as if they were going to give him a shot or something.

The doctor opened her medical kit and removed the necessary equipment. "We're using a Foley, so once I insert it, it won't come out." She opened the sterile seal and revealed the catheter, already with a long clear urine tube attached. Without further delay she held the eleven-year-old's semi-erect penis in her right hand and pressed the end of the catheter into the boy's urethra.

Josh gasped in terror as he felt something being forced down his piss hole. He tensed and let out a frightened whimper. Roger Bramley's grip on his wrists tightened. Blind, gagged, unable to hear anything but that horrible voice in his ears, the poor boy began to panic once again.

With clinical disinterest, Doctor Trench continued inserting the catheter. Boy slaves were little more than livestock to her, and she felt no particular sympathy for the little boy's distress. She noticed that the eleven-year-old's oversized penis was hardening rapidly as the tube was worked in further and further.

Josh bit down hard on the gag in his mouth and locked his knees to keep from moving. The sensation of the cold hard device slowly and relentlessly moving inside his penis was making him more and more frightened with each passing second. It seemed like it was about half-way down his dick when suddenly it slid in all the way. Josh shrieked into his gag and bucked wildly against Roger Bramley's relentless iron grip. The thing was all the way in his dick now, and still moving. Where was it going?! He felt pressure building up inside him, and suddenly he realized he really needed to pee. They'd made him drink a full liter of water before bringing him in here, and now he needed to get rid of it.

"It's in," the doctor announced. "I'm going to inflate the balloon now to keep it in place. You can open the clamp on the tube once you've got him in the bodysuit."

Josh of course could not see it, but his penis, already locked in a cock and ball harness, now had a long thin tube sticking out of it. In the barracks, the boys all stared at Josh's penis in horror. Chris, who still had his cock plugged, got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Doctor Trench departed. Roger bent Josh over and removed his butt-plug, less than gently. Again Josh's scream was muted by the gag and the leather hood. A second one followed shortly after as Hannah inserted an even larger plug, this one made of latex and considerably thicker and longer than the one Josh had been forced to wear since his arrival on the island. A sharp smack on his behind told him to stand up straight again.

A heavy leather posture collar was put around the boy's neck and the hasp closed with a large padlock. Additional straps from the hood were then attached to the collar, essentially forming a single piece. Josh immediately discovered that he could neither turn nor raise or lower his head, not even an inch.

What followed next was strange and not entirely unpleasant. Josh felt a warm substance being applied to his skin. It was oil. With gloved hands, the two trainers quickly covered the naked boy's hairless skin from his shoulders down to his toes. His penis and scrotum were oiled. Even his hands and fingers were oiled. In the barracks, the boy gladiators could see young Joshua's skin glistening in the harsh overhead floodlight.

The last and final element was a shiny black latex bodysuit. First the boy's right leg and then his left were fed into the suit and pulled up, sliding easily over the boy's well-oiled skin. When they got the suit to his hips, he could feel the tube in his dick being moved. The suit had a single small hole, specifically placed so that the catheter tube could be fed through. It took a few very uncomfortable (for Josh) minutes to get this done. The suit was then drawn up to his stomach, then his chest and finally over his shoulders. It was one single piece. It zipped up behind his back, the zip itself then being secured with a small hasp and locked. It formed a perfectly skin-tight glove, which now covered the eleven-year-old's slim athletic little body. His genitals were noticeably pronounced inside the tight covering of latex, revealing in an alluring and subtle way the rather large package of his boyhood.

The suit covered his feet. The arms of the suit ended in tight fingerless mitts that forced him to keep his hands clenched into fists. Not so much as a hair was now exposed to the outside world. His entire body was encased in black leather and latex from the top of his head to the tips of his toes and every little precious inch in between. The only opening the in suit was the small hole that allowed the urine tube to exit his body.

"Let's get him into position," Hannah said, enjoying the site of the small eleven-year-old boy in shiny latex. Being a lesbian, she felt no particular sexual arousal, but she did take a certain delight in the idea of naughty boys with ridiculously large penises being thoroughly and harshly punished. Roger, on the other hand, was quite turned on by the sight.

Leather restraints were fastened around Josh's wrists and ankles, and another set was buckled around his thighs. The trainers each took one of the chains mounted on either side of the wall and ran them through the d-rings in the wrist cuffs. The boy's arms were pulled straight out toward the walls and the chains were adjusted until there was no slack. They were then locked to the d-rings with clasps. Almost immediately Josh felt a slight painful tension in his shoulders.

An identical procedure was carried out with the thigh cuffs, forcing the boy to spread his legs wide. Lastly, the boy's ankle cuffs were secured with padlocks to a pair of iron rings embedded in the floor, three feet [90cm] apart. Four additional chains were now connected from the walls to the posture collar. Josh's neck was chained front, back and on both sides. It was impossible for the boy to move his body more than a few inches in any direction.

Josh felt another wave of panic coming over him. He screamed and screamed and screamed some more into his gag, but the hood allowed only pathetic muffled cries to escape. Hannah fed the other end of the boy's urine tube into a drain in the floor directly beneath the latex-encased and totally helpless boy. She then released the clamp. Josh trembled for an instant and then a stream of yellow fluid began to flow through the tube. Josh now had no control over his bladder, and even as his body drained itself, the urge to pee never went away.

Locked inside the hood, Josh was now crying fitfully, pulling wildly against the chains to test the limits of his movement.

"He'll figure it out in a moment," Hannah said coldly. Roger nodded and gave the eleven-year-old's adorable latex-clad rump a sharp smack. That would prove to be the last human contact he would feel for a very long time.

In the barracks, the boys sat silently watching Josh on the closed-circuit television. Suddenly a digital clock appeared at the bottom of the screen. It read '24:00:00'

"Zero-Two will be kept this way for the next twenty-four hours," Jason informed them. "The countdown begins now."

The boys began murmuring to one another, staring at the screen and watching as the clock began to move.

"Pay attention, boys," Jason said sternly. "We're not finished. During the next twenty-four hours, each and every demerit you boys receive will add one additional hour to Zero-Two's punishment. He was told he would be kept in the black room for twenty-four hours, but he was not told his release depended a great deal upon how well the rest of you behave. If you are all good boys, Zero-Two will be returned to the barracks when the clock reaches zero. If not, he will remain in total isolation until all the additional penalties have been served."

"That's two demerits for disobedience. You've just added two more hours to your brother's punishment."

"No, sir," Chris piped down and stared back at the television. He couldn't believe what they were doing to his brother. His eyes started to water and he wiped them quickly with the back of his hand. He wasn't going to let the other boys see him cry.

The boys broke up and went about their own interests. Books and board games, and the few coveted snacks the boys with the top scores had earned. Chris alone remained seated in front of the TV. Alexei challenged him to a game of chess, but it didn't feel right to be playing games while Josh was being punished.

"Sitting there isn't going to do him any good," Jason bent down and whispered into his ear. "Get up and play a game and keep yourself out of trouble."

"Yes, sir," the thirteen-year-old said, dispiritedly uncrossing his legs and standing up. He was happy when the guards finally called lights out. The cell doors were closed, but the tiny slots in them were left open so that if any boy looked out, he would see the television and Josh's continued torment. It was a mostly sleepless night for Chris, and, of course, it was a totally sleepless night for Josh.

Chapter 25
Cock Fight

Encased in the latex suit, the isolation hood strapped around his head, Josh had been repeating that elementary school limerick in his head for quite a while. The boy had been in the black room for almost five hours now. After his initial panic, he'd managed to calm down. He was still scared, and his shoulders and legs were already aching, but he hadn't freaked out like when they'd first put him in the suit. He was, actually, rather proud of himself.

'I'll show them. At least I'm not naked,' he thought, interrupting his bawdy lyric. Between his legs, he could feel his cock pressed tightly against the warm slippery latex. It wasn't exactly an unpleasant feeling. In fact he was a rather horny pre-teen at the moment. The harness they'd locked around his genitals was keeping him half-hard most of the time, but with his boyhood basically pinned down by the tight suit, a full erection was impossible. The catheter was starting to bother him a lot. His penis was itching from the inside out and the maddening pressure in his bladder was driving him crazy. The eleven-year-old could not tell whether he was actually peeing or not. The fact was that his bladder had been completely drained at this point, and now only an occasional flow of urine trickled down the tube that exited through a small hole in the suit.

The plug in his butt was giving him funny feelings deep inside. Often he would find himself moaning into the gag in his mouth and thrusting his hips forward as far as his near total bondage would allow him. Aside from being very large and applying constant relentless pressure to the pre-adolescent's prostate, the plug would also heat up and start to vibrate at random times and at random speeds. Every time that happened, Josh's dick swelled up in the latex suit and a little coo of pleasure escaped his gagged lips.

'This isn't so bad 3; ' Josh continued his personal monologue ' 3; from Boston, Mass, whose cock and balls were made of brass. He clanged 'em together in stormy fuckin' weather and a lighting bolt shot out his ass 3; There once was a boy 3; '

The next morning, while Josh remained confined in the black room, the rest of the boys were in the holding area beneath the arena. A small crowd of VIPs and other guests who had remained on the island after last night's finale was gathered in the stands waiting for them. Today's competition was going to be recorded live but broadcast later in the week. Young Miles had been led away by Jason and Alex and the two men were currently working with the littlest gladiator off in a quiet corner. The other boys meanwhile were now wearing spiked leather collars with matching leather wrist and ankle cuffs. Their chastity devices had been removed. Their butt-plugs remained firmly in place. The small decorative plug inserted in Christopher's penis was taken out. The boys were all staring at each other wondering what was going to happen. Without their belts and chastity cages, more than a few of them sported erections.

The gladiators in their leather collars and cuffs scurried up and out onto the arena floor. The gathered crowd stood and applauded them appreciatively. Enjoying the attention, several of the less inhibited boys waved their hands or flexed their muscles for the audience, eliciting even more cheers and catcalls.

Last up the ramp was Miles Harris. The three-foot-ten-inch [1.17cm] tall ten-year-old was currently wearing a white bow-tie, a formal black tuxedo jacket with tails, and absolutely nothing else. Naked from the waist down, and the jacket open to reveal his bare chest and tummy. He held a microphone in his right hand and strode purposefully to the very center of the arena. There he stopped and turned a complete circle so that everyone could get a look at him. He had a little two-and-a-half-inch [6½cm] boner bobbing adorably between his legs. The cameras followed him closely, but gave him plenty of room to walk around.

The little boy raised the microphone. "Hi everybody!" his sweet cheerful boy soprano rang out over the public address system. "Welcome to another episode of Worldwide Boy Gladiators. I'm boy zero-one, and I'm your host for today's cock fight."

The rest of the boys all knew they were in trouble when they heard Miles say that.

But they were. Miles, having carefully memorized his lines, quickly went over the rules.

"There's eight boys 3; hi guys," he waved at them before looking back up at the small but suddenly eager crowd. "They're going to get their dicks hard and then whack 'em against each others until they start cumming. The boy who lasts the longest is the winner. There's one special rule to make it more fairer. Dry cummers get to have three organisms before they get 'liminated." The little ten-year-old's grammatical errors, combined with his English accent, brought a round of laughter from the crowd. The consensus was already in that young Miles was exceptionally cuddly and adorable, and he was beginning to learn that he could use this to his advantage.

"Why aren't you in the fight?" someone in the front row of seats shouted down at him.

Miles flashed a big grin and gestured down to his tiny little boy package. "'Cause my weenie's so small," he said. "But I can make it bounce. Wanna see?"

Miles had been given special permission to touch his penis if the crowd approved. He quickly wrapped his fingers around his little member and gave it several quick eager yanks, making it stand up to its full almost three-inch [7½cm] length. When he was nice and hard he pulled it down between his legs and let it go. The ten-year-old's stiffy snapped back up against his hairless groin, bobbed up and down a few times and then stood straight out from his body. Miles did it a few more times, getting roars of delight from the crowd. Finally he felt that tingly feeling starting to build up. Still holding the microphone in his right hand, he jerked himself off with his left until he gasped and tensed and curled his cute little toes. A nice little dry orgasm, caught on camera.

"Wow, that felt totally awesome," the little boy said into the microphone. Now it was the older boys' turn. "Ok, guys, get your dicks hard and start fighting!"

The rules, as Miles had explained them, seemed simple enough. With the crowd on its feet and cheering, eight young hands went to their eight young cocks and started stroking them intently. All the boys were hard in just a few seconds, except of course for twelve-year-old Daniel, whose penis was already under the influence of the testroxil. With the other boys already pairing up and starting to rub their penises together, Danny finally managed to spring a weak three-inch [7½cm] boner. Ian was the last boy without an opponent, and so they quickly moved together, swaying their hips from side to side, dueling with their hard little tools.

"It is like sword fight," Alexei giggled as he and Chris slapped their dicks together again and again. Their ripe young balls were bouncing around between their legs now too.

"Do not!" Alexei added another few words in Russian expressing his opinion of Chris' parentage.

A few feet away from this spirited duo, David Brown and Illya Casparev were paired up. Thirteen-year-old Illya's exceptional eight-inch [20cm] boner dwarfed that of his older opponent by almost three inches [7½cm], but from David's perspective that simply made it an easier target. The two teenagers were standing close, their toes almost touching, swinging their hard cocks back and forth, brushing them together, the friction causing both boys to gasp and pant. They both needed to cum so desperately, but neither of them wanted to now. Their adolescent organs were already leaking from the rough but not unpleasant stimulus they were receiving. Illya's cock was incredibly hard. He started to make small whimpering noises in his throat.

"No way you're gonna make it," David taunted, seeing the contorted look on Illya's lightly freckled face.

Next to these two, fourteen-year-old Philippe and twelve-year-old Gabriel were wagging their cocks back and forth against each other, their hands at their hips, the shafts of their turgid erections rubbing continually as they stood toe to toe.

"Come on, Frenchie," Gabriel taunted, starting to become breathless. Their cocks were almost the same size, despite a two year difference in their ages, and the tension in young Gabriel's dick was becoming unbearable.

"You first," Philippe replied. He could tell by the younger boy's urgent movements that it wouldn't be too much longer.

He was quite right. In that moment, a rather unexpected thing happened. Chris, Illya and Gabe all had crippling orgasms, all within a few seconds of each other. All three of them shouted, "I'm cumming!" obeying the standing orders given them by their trainers. All three of them shot several globs of ropy boy cum out of their convulsing dicks. Gabriel made up for his lack of volume by shooting his farther than anyone else's. Chris and Illya managed to get most of theirs all over Alexei and David, both of whom stood there still needfully erect with another boy's cum now splattered all over their chests and stomachs.

"Wow!" Young Miles said into his microphone. "Three in a row!" The little boy had been providing humorous color commentary throughout the competition, walking around in his bow-tie and tails. His own little cocklet was hard again, but he was young enough to not even be aware of that fact.

Ian and Danny (who by virtue of being non-cummers were allowed three orgasms before being eliminated) were still going at it, their arms locked around each other, grinding their hips into one another's groins. Ian had already suffered the spasms of his first orgasm, producing a tiny little dribble of clear semen. The eleven-year-old's twitching penis remained rock hard and ready for a repeat performance. Danny had experienced one as well, though it was little more than an itchy tickly tingly feeling in his dick.

With the two youngest boys literally wrapped up in their own private battle, the three remaining gladiators formed a tight three-way circle and began the contest all over again. The three boys who were out of the competition had their leather wrist cuffs locked behind their backs. They were allowed to kneel on the arena floor and watch the rest of the contest. Ball-gags were stuffed into their mouths and strapped tightly behind their heads to keep them from making too much noise.

"There's five boys left," Miles chirped, walking around the arena and showing off for the crowd. "Who's gonna be next?"

The crowd shouted out their favorites. Miles walked up to Ian and Danny, who were still

front-to-front, pressing their bodies together, thrusting their hips into one another. Both of them

were obviously building toward another knee-wobbling pre-teen orgasm, but Miles forced the microphone in between them.

"Not 3; so 3; mmmmm 3; good 3; oh man 3; " Ian answered through gritted teeth. He was trying to hold himself back, but his instinctual thrusts were growing faster and stronger. In spite of his best efforts, Ian's eleven-year-old body and his boyish hormones had betrayed him and he was now trying to get himself off. The game was no longer trying to make Danny cum first, but just to have that awesome feeling again. He really didn't care about winning and losing anymore. "Oh 3; oh 3; ohhhhh, here it comes 3; oooooh, I'm cumming!"

Ian's entire body quivered and he bit his lower lip. "Oh, yeah," he sighed as he slowly came down. His four-inch [10cm] long erection was still standing and ready for more action. "Make me have another one, Danny! I don't care!"

The two boys locked arms again and continued rutting. Danny had his second cum, much stronger than the first one. The testroxil had yet to take its full effect and the twelve-year-old was about as horny as he had ever been, or would ever be again for the next four years of his life. "I don't care either, Ian. Let's just see how many we can have, ok?"

The two boys eliminated themselves simultaneously a few seconds later and just kept on going. Their sexual hysterics were such a hit with the crowd that the trainers didn't make them stop. Without any conscious thought, Ian soon had Danny beneath him on the ground. The eleven-year-old would thrust downward at the same time the twelve-year-old was thrusting upward, both of their throbbing eager dicks pressing together and straining for a climax they were too young to achieve.

From the archway leading down to the holding area, the trainers were watching the contest and laughing at the ten-year-old's theatrics. "Did you tell him what to say, Alex?" Calvin Mayfair asked.

"No, Cal," the cultured elderly gentleman replied. "I simply told him to put on a good show and keep the crowd entertained. He gets ten bonus points if he does a good job. And of course he'll get demerits if they start to get bored."

"Speaking of demerits," Ian's trainer Anthony broke in. "I think Ian and Daniel are way outside the established rules at this point. Look at them."

Ian now had Danny flipped onto his stomach and was pressing his thin four-inch [10cm] boner into the twelve-year-old's butt crack. Naturally the plug in Danny's butt kept the randy pre-teen from gaining entrance, but he was still doing his best to fuck the older boy and bring himself off yet again.

"Normally I'd agree," Jason said. As head trainer he was the final judge on the handing out of demerits. "But the crowd is loving it. Two little boys going at it. And those two especially. They're our most obedient boys. We couldn't have scripted that. Give them each three demerits and let them keep going until the contest is over. Acceptable?"

The trainers all nodded in agreement. Three demerits each equaled six more hours in the black room for young Joshua.

With the three remaining boys already in a highly aroused state, it didn't take much bumping and rubbing and swinging of cocks until the first cry of "I'm cumming!" was heard. It came from fourteen-year-old Philippe, who, not counting the milking session, had gone more than a week now without an orgasm. The young teen's seed erupted out of his dick and his knees went all rubbery.

"Oi, that was good 3; " he panted. He longed to give his already softening cock a few quick strokes with his hand, but he knew this was forbidden. During the course of this particular contest all of the older boys had learned how maddening it was to not be allowed to touch their dicks when they ejaculated.

David was the next to lose what little control he had. He choked out a weak "I'm cumming!" then arched his back, thrust his head back and shot a copious load of teenaged boy-juice all over his two competitors.

The second David's hot seed splashed against his stomach, twleve-year-old Alexei let out a high-pitched squeak, shouted the required announcement to the crowd and enjoyed the last orgasm of the contest. His ejaculate was still mostly just clear seminal fluid, but there was an incredibly large amount of it.

"Look at him go!" Miles capered excitedly and Alexei's orgasm seemed to show no signs of ending.

Even when the last spasms of his climax had passed, a continual stream of clear fluid was still dribbling out of the young Russian's dick. Like David, he desperately wanted to grab his five-inch [12½cm] long stiffy and coax every last drop out of it. Instead he just stood there looking down at his middle, watching his penis slowly soften. His entire body glistened in a fine sheen of sweat. He'd won the contest by exactly two seconds over David.

"And we have a winner, folks!" was Miles final announcement. A slow motion replay of Alexei's winning orgasm was shown on the overhead digital screen to the raucous applause of the crowd. The cameras panned around the arena, showing all of the boys in their post orgasmic exhaustion, pausing for a few seconds on Ian and Danny who were still going at it, then finally moving in for a close up on little Miles, who was once again playing with his little dick. He stopped long enough to look directly into the lens. "I'm boy zero-one and you've been watching Worldwide Boy Gladiators, an XB1 production."

The boys were then brought to their feet, took a bow for the appreciative and rather lecherous crowd and then marched double-time back down the ramp to the holding area. Ian and Danny had to be forcefully separated. Both of them were red-faced and embarrassed, only just now realizing that their antics had been captured on film and would be broadcast in full later in the week.

"Nice job, dumb-ass," Danny said sarcastically to the younger but much better endowed boy.

"Look who's talkin, mate. 'Ohhh, oohhh, Ian 3; don't stop! That feels soooo good!' Sound familiar?"

After spending nearly fifteen minutes pleasuring each other, the two boys now almost came to blows. Their trainers had to intervene and pull them apart for the second time in as many minutes.

In the black room, young Joshua had been confined in the leather hood and latex body-suit for close to twelve hours now. The boy had no way of knowing that of course. It could have been twelve minutes or twelve days from his perspective. The boy was slumped over as far as his strict bondage would allow. His legs and shoulders were sore and tired and he was no longer able to support his own weight. He was hot and sweaty and miserable inside the suit. He'd gotten used to the large gag in his mouth, but remembering to breathe through his nose was still a problem for him. Every so often he would panic and struggle against the chains, desperate to get loose and tear the hood off, but utterly helpless to do either. Then he would slowly calm down again.

He'd managed to sleep in fitful intervals, ten minutes here, twenty minutes there, but for the most part the latex-clad eleven-year-old had been awake the entire time. He was so hungry now his stomach was starting to hurt.

'What if they forget about me?' his young mind raced. 'What if they let me starve!'

Josh had no real concept just how long a human body, even a young one, could go without food, or water for that matter. He also had no knowledge of the fact that he was being monitored continually by the people in the control center. The latex suit had built in mirco-processors that provided them with a constant stream of data on the boy's heart rate, blood pressure and other vital statistics. Josh was in no real physical danger, but he, of course, did not know that.

The plug in his butt started vibrating again. Fast this time. The last three times it had almost brought him to orgasm, denying him that pleasure on each occasion at the last possible moment.

The time on the digital clock read 12:17:23. Josh still had more than half of his sentence to go, and that of course was not counting any additional time he would serve due to the demerits earned by the other boys. That number was currently six, meaning he would be spending six additional hours in the black room.

Istari

Worldwide Boy Gladiators

Chapters 21-25

Chapter 21
Special Reception

Chapter 22
The Premier

Chapter 23
The Chariot Race

Chapter 24
Punishment Day!

Chapter 25
Cock Fight

Istari

Worldwide Boy Gladiators

Chapters 21-25

Chapter 21Special Reception

Chapter 22The Premier

Chapter 23The Chariot Race

Chapter 24Punishment Day!

Chapter 25Cock Fight

Chapter 21
Special Reception

Chapter 22
The Premier

Chapter 23
The Chariot Race

Chapter 24
Punishment Day!

Chapter 25
Cock Fight