Istari

Worldwide Boy Gladiators

Chapters 26-29

Chapter 26
Keeping the Boys Busy

"Make sure you get the top shelf too, Trevor," Durand reminded his young slave boy. "Or you'll be wearing that outfit for the rest of the day."

"Yes, sir," the fourteen-year-old replied in his high unbroken voice. "I'll pay more attention this time, I promise."

"See that you do. I don't like having to punish you all the time."

"And I don't like being punished, master," Trevor looked down at himself and gestured to his humiliating costume. "At least, not like this."

Durand smiled at him. "Back to work now. No more talking or I'll have to gag you."

Trevor nodded silently and continued with his dusting, careful to be a lot more thorough this time. He hated having to wear this outfit. It was better just being naked.

The bell rang at the front door a few minutes later.

"That must be Mr. Hilthorpe. Go and let him in, Trevor."

The boy set down his feather duster and obediently ran out to the entry hall to open the door. The man waiting there was young and dressed in a smart tailored suit. He carried an expensive briefcase.

"Good afternoon, sir," Trevor bowed at the waist. "My master will see you in the study."

The man smiled at the sight of the young teenaged boy in a maid's outfit. The boy's smooth slender legs were things of great beauty. He paused at Trevor's tiny genitals, no bigger than a five-year-old's, and looking much like one would find on those ancient Greek statues of idealized boyhood. He wondered idly what had been done to shrink them to such a small size, and he privately approved of the procedure.

"Lead the way, boy," he replied in an accent that spoke of wealth and privilege.

Well trained in his duties as a domestic servant, Trevor bowed again and quickly stepped aside so the man could enter. "If you'll follow me, sir," the boy turned gracefully and led his master's guest into the study. He was curious about the man's identity and what he was doing here, but he knew it was not his business to ask questions. If his master wanted him to know, he would be told. He opened the double doors to the study and gestured the man inside, following quietly behind him and resuming his dusting straight away.

William Durand rose from his lounge and shook the man's hand in greeting.

"Nathaniel Hilthorpe," the young man introduced himself.

"Pleasure to meet you. Welcome to Gladiator Island."

"I'm pleased to be here. I have to confess I was thrilled when I got a call from Ms. Tomlinsin. This is a tremendous opportunity for me."

"Please have a seat." He poured the island's newly arrived tutor a glass of wine. "I've read over your curriculum vitae. Very impressive. You have some rather progressive viewpoints on the education of young males."

"I believe discipline and education go hand in hand. The board at my previous private appointment did not entirely agree with my experimental approach."

"You'll have no such interference with your methods here, Mr. Hilthorpe."

"Excellent."

"We have a suite prepared for you in the administration building. I've taken the liberty of transferring the boys' files to your workstation there."

"I look forward to learning more about them."

"Did you watch the premiere Saturday night?" Hilthorpe smiled broadly. "I did. Terrific. The boys are adorable, and tremendous athletes. I hope I'll find them to be as gifted intellectually."

"They are. They're intelligence makes them somewhat harder to manage, but we wanted it that way. How would you like to proceed?"

"I think I should meet them first as a group. Then I would like to interview them each individually. I'm told a classroom is being prepared in the training facility?"

"We thought that was the logical place for it. If you find it unacceptable, I'm sure other arrangements can be made. We are required to provide education for them under the terms of their indentures. I will leave the logistics of how that is best accomplished entirely in your hands."

"I'm sure the existing facilities will be appropriate," Hilthorpe answered. "Your budget is quite generous. I will need to have your maintenance team construct a few items for me before we begin the boys' lessons. Black boards, special desks of my own design, that sort of thing."

"I'll instruct them to give your projects top priority."

"Thank you, sir. Once the classroom is properly outfitted, we can begin their instruction.

I'd estimate the end of next week at the latest. I do intend to give them all reading and writing assignments on a fairly regular basis. Are there any restrictions on allowing them to keep books or journals in their cells?"

"Not as long as they are part of your required curriculum."

"Excellent. Are there any other restrictions I should be aware of?"

The look in Nathaniel Hilthorpe's eyes told Durand his question went a good bit deeper than reading, writing and arithmetic. "You may discipline them as you see fit. We do try to keep casual physical abuse to a minimum, but I will rely on your discretion where that's concerned. The boys are kept in strict chastity as a general rule. I would appreciate it if you honored that. If you should need to remove a boy's chastity device for any reason, please consult with his trainer first."

Hilthorpe nodded and drained his glass. "Well, I suppose I should get settled in. I've got files to go over and textbooks to unpack."

"Should I assign one of the mules to help you?"

"Heavens no. I do not want those uneducated little animals touching my books. I will take care of that myself."

"As you wish."

The two men shook hands and Trevor obediently escorted the new teacher out.

Beneath the arena, the boys were quickly hosed down and locked back into their chastity devices. The leather collars, wrist and ankle cuffs that had adorned their muscular little bodies during the cock fight were currently being replaced with the standard sets of irons and chains that had now become second nature to the boys.

Not all of the boys however were being so restrained. Chris and Danny had been pulled aside by Jason once their genitals had been securely locked away.

"Zero-Seven and Zero-Five, you have been procured by VIP clients," the head trainer informed them, reading information from his personal data organizer. "Zero-Five, your services have been acquired for forty-eight hours. Zero-Seven, you have been purchased for seventy-two hours. I am going to take you both back to the barracks to get your properly cleaned up. You will shower and brush your teeth and you will be dressed as our clients have requested." Jason attached a leather leash to each boy's collar and passed his right hand through the loops. "Follow me."

Still wearing their leather restraints, the two boys fell in line behind Jason and walked along behind him on their leashes. It felt strange, walking from one place to another without chains between their feet. Having a leash hooked to their collars however was something they no longer found unusual at all. Just a few weeks ago, they would have been terrified, now they really didn't think about it at all. Being restrained at all times was becoming as normal to them as breathing.

Unhappy with the youngsters' pace, Jason gave a firm tug.

"Move faster, boys, you are both going to be delivered in thirty minutes. You will not be late."

Chris and Danny were sent straight to the showers where they quickly rinsed the dirt and dust off their bodies, always under the watchful eyes of the guards. The boys washed their short-cropped hair and scrubbed behind their ears and between their toes. With their flanks still dripping wet, they were given their numbered toothbrushes and a small tube of toothpaste to share between them.

"Alright boys," Jason said as the now squeaky-clean pair presented themselves for inspection. "Lets get you ready."

Calvin Mayfair took charge of young Danny while Jason lead Chris over to a small box on the mess table. "Your first clients have been very specific about how you should be dressed," Jason told the nervous thirteen-year-old. "Stand still now. I have to put your cock-plug back in first."

Jason took hold of Chris' cock cage and produced a cock-plug somewhat different from the one Chris had been wearing for the last few days. This one was flanged like the first one, ensuring that once it was inserted into the boy's urethra it could not come out involuntarily, but it had a large ring at the end.

"We could attach a chain or leash here," Jason explained, flicking the ring that now stuck out from the end of the boy's dick.

"I don't think I'd like that too much, sir," Chris said softly.

"And I don't recall asking for your opinion. There's a pair of leather shorts in the box. Take them out and put them on."

Chris removed the shorts from the box. They were, without a doubt, the strangest shorts the young teenager had ever seen. They were leather, all black, with belts and straps around the waist and thighs. The pants had numerous rings built in, perfect for securing the wearer in a variety of imaginative ways. There was also a series of small padlocks. Chris dutifully laid them out on the table before sliding the shorts up his slim muscular legs. Immediately he discovered that the shorts were going to be very, very tight.

"Put your cock-cage in there," Jason instructed.

Chris had to push the chastity device downward between his legs a bit in order to get it tucked inside the shorts.

"Good boy. You'll need to learn to put these on and take them off quickly. Now lace up the front 3; just like tying shoes 3; "

The thirteen-year-old pulled the laces through the grommets, Jason watching to make sure everything was nice and snug. Chris tied them into a tight knot. He looked up at Jason with a bit of an amused smile on his face.

"These feel kinda neat 3; I mean 3; I sorta feel sexy in them, you know."

"Oh, I know," Jason said. Chris looked amazing in the leather chastity shorts. "Now tighten the straps. Do the one around your waist first, then the ones that go around your thighs."

Chris obeyed, pulling and buckling the straps, making the shorts even tighter than they already were. "How's that?" he asked, seeking his trainer's approval.

"Perfect." Jason picked up the padlocks and clicked them shut one at a time over the hasps on the buckles. There were five locks in all. Chris was now secured in the pants. He could not take them off or loosen the straps until they were unlocked.

The same combination of leather collar and cuffs that Chris had just worn in the arena was once again locked around his neck, wrists and ankles. A pair of thigh cuffs went on next, joined together by a short length of thin chain.

Jason next put a black ball-gag in the boy's mouth and pulled it tight behind his head, locking it in place. Chris was no longer quite as intimidated by these sorts of things as he had been those first few days on the island, but wearing a gag was still one of his least favorite parts of his new life as a slave.

"Your clients think you talk too much," Jason said with smirk. "I tend to agree with them. Don't expect that gag to come out too often for next few days."

Chris groaned, not liking the sound of that at all.

The last piece of young Christopher Andrews' new costume was a body-harness. Two leather straps went over his shoulders, four more went around his chest, all joined together by additional straps and large steel rings. Chris was surprised how heavy it was, and how constrictive.

"Too tight?" Jason asked as he worked the straps around the boy's rib-cage.

Chris shook his head. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but he knew that was of no concern to his trainer and didn't bother complaining.

Jason stepped back and whistled.

"Aren't you a cute leather-boy," he said, tussling Chris' short blonde hair.

The leather leash completed the look. Jason led the leather-clad boy toward the door. He was joined by Calvin, leading Danny behind him. The boy was crawling on his hands and knees. The twelve-year-old was dressed as a puppy, with a muzzle and head-harness that included pointy dog-ears. Danny was wearing a wide spiked collar. Leather mitts covered his hands. A puppy-tail butt-plug was nestled in his cute little behind, the tail sticking out and wagging with every movement he made. His chastity belt had been removed, leaving his tiny little penis dangling between his legs. His balls had been pulled downward and cinched with a wide leather strap and were already turning a nice shade of red as he crawled along. He looked, and indeed was, a thoroughly miserable boy.

Outside the security fence, Ophelia Winstrom was waiting with her little eight-year-old boy-pet Spike on all fours beside her. He was wearing a muzzle and harness identical to Danny's, and he too had a little doggie-tail protruding from his butt. His little penis remained pulled down below his tiny ball sac and locked in place by the chastity ring that passed through his cute circumcised cockhead and was joined by a short chain to a second ring that pierced his perineum, just behind his scrotum. His soft soulful blue eyes blinked rapidly in the bright mid-morning sun.

Calvin pulled Danny forward on the leash and turned him over to the wealthy heiress.

"Sit up on your knees, boy," Ophelia said, putting the end of the leash in her left hand, which already held the one attached to Spike's collar. "Let me get a look at you."

Danny got up on his knees and put his hands behind his head, looking up at her. Ophelia glared down at him. "A boy's eyes should always be at a lady's feet."

The twelve-year-old quickly corrected his error.

"I will forgive you this once. My, you do have a small penis, don't you? It is not much bigger than Spike's. Isn't that right, Spike?"

The little boy let out high-pitched 'yip', sounding as much like a puppy dog as a human boy possibly could. Doggie sounds, were, in general, the only sounds the boy was ever allowed to make.

Danny blushed as his small organ was once again the subject of ridicule, but he knew it was true.

"Come along, boy. I've always wanted to have two little puppies to train." She tugged on Danny's leash and the very frightened twelve-year-old crawled over beside Spike.

Calvin presented Ophelia with a small cloth bag. Danny's number was on the outside of it. "His chastity belt is inside, along with the keys. All we ask is that he be wearing it when you return him."

"I'm sure I won't be needing it," the middle-aged woman said. "You won't be having any nasty erections, will you, boy?" She yanked firmly on Danny's leash, indicating it was not a question he was required to answer, but rather a command he had better obey.

With her two boy-pets crawling on all fours behind her, their little doggie-tails wagging as their hips moved from side to side, Ophelia strode off at a leisurely pace.

Still standing by the gate, Chris watched them go and breathed a huge sigh of relief. He felt sorry for Danny, but not enough to want to take his place.

"Your clients are coming now," Jason observed. Chris looked ahead and saw two men approaching. They stopped and exchanged greetings with Ms. Winstrom, then continued toward the barrack. Chris recognized them immediately. It was the same pair who had stroked his penis and made him ejaculate at the reception. They were dressed in light colored shorts and shirts. He noticed that the older of the pair had a small riding crop in his hand.

"You behave yourself," Jason admonished. "You belong to them for the next three days. I'd better not get any bad reports."

Chris vehemently shook his head. He wasn't sure how much time Josh had left in the black room, but he knew any demerits he received would only add to his brother's punishment.

"Over here, boy," the man with the riding crop spoke sternly.

The leather-clad thirteen-year-old marched over as bravely as he could. The younger of the two men ran his hands over the boy's body harness and playfully tweaked Christopher's nipples. He then took the leash dangling from the young hairless teenager's collar.

"When you walk anywhere with us, you will always stay two feet [60cm] behind."

Chris found that instruction easy to follow as the leash was about that long. Jason turned over the keys to Christopher's cock-cage and all of the many padlocks that kept all of the boy's leather gear securely in place.

"Is he plugged?" the older gentleman asked.

"At all times," Jason replied with a congenial smile. "It is a large one. He'll scream a bit when you take it out, and a lot more when you put it back in."

The younger partner reached behind, caressed the five-foot-tall [1.50m] adolescent's sexy bottom and felt the hard base of the metal butt-plug beneath the boy's tight leather shorts.

"He has a fantastic set of legs," the senior member of the pair said.

"And just feel his abdominal muscles," the younger man replied, running his hand over the thirteen-year-old's tight stomach, "solid little beast, isn't he?"

Chris felt his ears going red. One of the strangest things about being a slave, and one of the toughest things to get used to, was being talked about like he wasn't even there. Of course, Chris was no longer a person. Slaves were property, commodities, animals, objects either of beauty or scorn or both. And so he stood there blushing as the two men discussed his many attributes as if he were prize livestock. Strictly speaking, the boy was precisely that. A firm tug in his leash told him it was time to go. He walked off behind his new temporary owners. They were talking enthusiastically to each other about the events on the island, occasionally making certain comments about various parts of his anatomy that were starting to make the young boy just a little nervous.

The two men led Chris back to the large bungalow that housed the luxury suites. It was the first time the boy had seen this particular building. The gladiators had not been brought here during their tour of the island on the first day. It was a two-storied structure built in the classic British colonial style, with a large veranda supported by white pillars. The second he stepped inside a felt a blast of cool air and shivered.

'Air conditioning!' the young American boy thought. He'd quickly gotten used to being hot and sweaty pretty much twenty-four hours a day, so this was a sudden shock. He got goose-bumps on his bare skin almost immediately.

"Poor thing's not used to being in the air," the younger man said.

"We'll have to warm him up then, won't we?" his older partner replied, looking down at Chris with a wicked smirk on his face.

The wealthy male couple had a suite on the ground floor. Christopher's jaw would have dropped if he hadn't been gagged. The suite was enormous, almost as big as the whole first floor of his house back home. It opened out through glass doors directly onto the white sandy beach.

'What a cool place for a vacation,' Chris thought.

Bruce and Lance, those were their names respectively, opened the doors to allow the sea breeze to come in. Lance, the younger one, went to the kitchenette and returned with two cold beers. Chris was a bright kid, and he'd noticed from the first time he'd encountered these two that the younger one seemed to always defer to the older one. Now it suddenly dawned on him that the gold chain around the young man's neck was symbolic, and much more than mere expensive jewelry. Lance noticed the look of dawning awareness on the young boy's face.

"That's right, kid. I'm a slave, at least legally speaking. I was just a bit younger than you are when I was sold. Bruce has owned me since I left the processing center. That was like ten years ago now, right Bruce?"

"That's right, sweetheart," the older man said. His hair was slightly graying, but he still had a youthful appearance about him. He kissed his younger partner squarely and firmly on the lips. It was the first time in his life that Chris had ever seen two grown men kissing. Even as a gay boy, it was not something he really thought about. You kissed your mom, and maybe your grandmother, and that was the limit of his list of potentially kiss-able human beings.

"Thirsty, boy?" Bruce asked, resting his dark commanding eyes on the thirteen-year-old.

Chris nodded eagerly. He hadn't had anything since his juice that morning.

"Lance is going to take your gag out and we'll give you a drink. If you say a single word, the gag goes back in. Understood?"

Again the boy nodded. Lance moved behind him and unlocked the ball-gag, setting it aside. He handed Chris his beer.

"Take a swig or two," the young man instructed.

Chris gave him a dubious look, wondering if the offer was some sort of trap. He was too young to drink that kind of stuff, but he was also very curious. He held the bottle to his lips and took a small hesitant sip. His thirteen-year-old tastes were clearly not quite ready for the alcoholic brew.

'Geez, this stuff is awful,' he thought to himself. 'What's the big deal about it?' He coughed and shivered at the bitter taste and politely handed the bottle back.

"Maybe he'd be happier with a soda," Bruce suggested.

The boy's eyes lit up. It had only been a week, but before coming to the island he could polish off three or four cans a day. He'd forgotten just how much he missed that sort of thing.

"It's diet," Lance said as he returned with an ice-cold can.

Chris smiled his gratitude and snapped it open. The first gulp of cold carbonated liquid went down his throat. It was great. Just this one little gesture of kindness, this one little bit of normalcy, this one brief opportunity to be a regular boy again, made Chris happier than he had been since the day he first got the letter from XB1.

"Doesn't take much to keep a slave happy," Lance observed.

"You should know that better than anyone, dear boy," Bruce replied. "Let's enjoy the afternoon on the deck."

The two men walked outside. Chris followed them on his own, his leash trailing from his collar down his chest. Bruce and Lance sat down on a pair of cushioned lounge chairs facing the ocean. It was a terrific view and a perfect day in the tropics. Chris was made to stand between them and hold their bottles while they talked. His own can of soda was relegated to the wooden deck between his bare feet. He would have to wait until the men were done before he could finish it. Occasionally the boy would feel a hand gently running over his legs, or his arms, or his leather-clad behind. It gave him a tingly feeling inside, and made his cock swell uselessly inside the chastity cage. He felt the spikes digging in and let out a soft whimper.

"Serves you right, boy," Bruce told him, smacking his butt sharply. "That cage is on your dick for a reason. Don't get hard unless you are told. And you, Lance," Bruce admonished his young partner, "don't let that boy get so excited."

Just outside the black room, there was a small monitoring booth. Hannah Dubose was currently on duty, watching young Josh encased in leather and shiny latex on the multiple screens. The digital clock now read 06:58:32. Inside the black room the temperature was eighty-nine degrees [32°C]. Josh was standing still at the moment. He would, on occasion, jerk violently against the chains that restrained him. He would then cry out hysterical frustration and wail into his gag, the sounds of his distress muffled by the leather hood. Hannah had the internal speakers turned on so she could hear the eleven-year-old's plaintive little cries. Currently the barely audible sounds of sobbing were coming through the speakers.

Josh had finally broken about two hours ago. All boyish bravado and resistance was gone. He was a terrified, miserable, starving, thirsty, sore and very unhappy little boy and he was unable to do anything about it but cry. He couldn't see, he couldn't speak, he couldn't hear, he had a tube stuck in his dick and a plug jammed in his butt. It was currently vibrating again, but it was no longer even little bit pleasurable. He wanted out. He wanted that tube out of his dick, that plug out of his butt, that horrible hood off his head, that hot slippery suit off his body. He wanted off the island. He wanted to wear clothes again and not have to wear a chastity belt all the time. He wanted to go home.

He was screaming and shouting into his gag now and again pulling hard on the chains.

"How long has he been carrying on like that?" Allison Trench asked as she entered the booth.

"On and off for the last two hours, doctor," Hannah replied. She was currently finishing her lunch, but Joshua's cries had suddenly pitched up to shrieks and increased in volume.

"He's screaming his little lungs off," Trench said. There was, perhaps, just a hint of pity in her voice, mostly however she spoke in the cold detached phrases of a doctor long accustomed to dealing with young boy slaves. He was a commodity. An investment. If she was concerned for the boy's well-being it was simply because it was her job to protect the companies prime assets, of which young Joshua Andrews was currently one.

She quickly checked the boy's bio-monitor. "His heart rate is jumping. And there hasn't been any flow of urine through the catheter in over an hour."

"Is he in danger?"

"Getting too close for my liking, Hannah," Allison answered. "We need to get him calmed down and hydrated. He's got six hours of his original punishment, plus at least another twelve coming."

"When he finds out how many demerits the other boys got, he's going to freak."

Allison Trench heartily agreed. "He's not going to be a very happy boy."

"What's this doing to his head, doctor?"

"Is that pity?" "No," Hannah replied rather defensively. "I think of him as a thoroughbred racehorse. It's my job to keep him in shape, mentally as well as physically. If he comes out of this a nut-job he's not going to be much of a competitor. I can't have him breaking down in tears the next time he's in the arena, or driving the chariot. That's bad news for me. And no bonus at the end of the season."

"Ah, motivated self interest then."

"Precisely."

"Well, dear, there will certainly be some short term psychological problems. But I think you will find him a great deal more docile, at least for the foreseeable future. A boy does not soon forget an ordeal like this. If you just mention the black room to him, that should bring him back in line very quickly. A little conditioning goes a long way. There are various drugs we can give him if he shows signs of depression or psychosis, but I doubt he'll develop anything more serious than a few recurring nightmares and an occasional flashback. We will be keeping a close watch on him for the next few weeks, so don't worry. I'll do my job so that you can keep doing yours."

"Fair enough."

Just then another frantic shriek came over the speaker, this one so high-pitched and desperate that it truly sounded as if it came from an injured animal rather than a young boy.

"We'd better get in there."

Doctor Trench was already buzzing the door open, her medical kit in her free hand.

When Josh felt hands touching his body for the first time in so long, he jerked wildly and shouted in terror.

'Leave me alone! Don't hurt me!' is what he was trying to say. All that came out through the gag and hood was a series of muffled grunts and groans. Suddenly a voice came over the headset built into the hood. He recognized it as Hannah's.

Josh could feel the straps around the outside of the hood being unbuckled and pulled loose. With the hood no longer attached to the posture collar, he could turn his head again. His little neck was stiff and sore. With a single swift motion, the hood was pulled off. The warm humid air in the black room actually felt cold to the boy. It was quite a shock. He gasped, desperately trying to fill his lungs. His natural instinct was to open his eyes. They fluttered for a second and he opened them, even as tears ran down his cheeks. The bright spotlight directly over his head blinded him almost instantly and he quickly squeezed them closed again.

"I told you," Hannah chided him gently, rubbing his side through the latex suit. He'd never heard her speak to him so softly. "Now keep them closed."

Josh's lower lip trembled. "Yes, ma'am," he said weakly. His pre-pubescent was voice soft and hoarse. "I'm so hungry 3; "

"Hush. No talking."

Doctor Trench removed a plastic bottle from the medical bag. It contained a drink the boys would come to call Gladiator Power Punch. It looked like fruit punch and was specially formulated to help pre-teen and young teenaged boys restore their fluids and energy levels very quickly. The taste, as Josh quickly discovered, was not at all bad either.

"Slowly, Josh," Allison said as she held the bottle to the boy's parched and chapped lips. It was the first time any of the adults had called him by his name since he'd arrived on the island. "Drink it all, but take small sips 3; that's a good boy."

Josh started to feel a little bit better right away. At least his mouth and throat weren't so dry anymore. He wanted to ask how much time he had left, but he'd already talked once without permission and he was afraid what might happen if he spoke again. So, he kept his mouth shut and kept his eyes closed. He could feel it when the doctor repositioned his catheter tube back over the drain in the floor. During his recent struggles he'd managed to pull the tube up out of the drain. Consequently a little puddle of the boy's urine had trickled out onto the floor. Having that thing in his dick was probably the worst and most humiliating part of his punishment. He whined plaintively but the doctor simply ignored his obvious shame and discomfort.

Before he knew it, the hood was swiftly pulled down over his head again, the built-in gag forced between his teeth and the straps pulled tight. Once more, young Josh was condemned to darkness and silence. He had been out of the hood for exactly five minutes. The only break he would receive during his punishment.

Hannah smacked his latex-clad butt, hard, and the two women left the black room, locking the door behind them. Josh choked back a frightened sob. When were they ever going to let me out?

'What if they never let me out?' his eleven-year-old brain was coming up with all sorts of increasingly horrifying possibilities.

Chapter 27
The Trojan Horse

"You like it, don't you, little slave," Bruce said as he thrust rapidly in and out, driving his large fat cock deep into the young boy's rectum.

With his mouth stuffed full of Lance's dick, the boy's only answer was a muffled groan. After two hours of relentless abuse, he was totally exhausted. His arms and legs were starting to tremble. He'd been on all fours since the ordeal began, and he was having a hard time holding himself up now. A sharp smack on his butt reminded him to keep still.

"You will learn to take it, boy," Bruce chastised him as he continued violating the youngster's rear end.

The two men increased the speed and force of their thrusts, driven into a sexual frenzy by the slim, hairless, naked boy between them. Chris tried hard to concentrate on the cock in his mouth, but it was difficult, since the one in his butt was constantly assaulting his adolescent prostate. In spite of his fatigue, Chris was, at this point, every bit as aroused as the two men using him were. High-pitched moans and desperate sighs, voiceless pleas for sexual release, were issuing from the boy's throat. They were music to Bruce and Lance's ears. Given such powerful stimulus, it wasn't long before the two men climaxed, filling the boy from both ends with their seed.

"Swallow it, boy," Lance hissed, his head thrown back in ecstasy. "Don't spill a drop."

Chris obediently slurped and suckled, making sure none of the younger man's ejaculate dribbled onto the carpet. He was still licking it off his bottom lip when Bruce, still half-hard, pulled out of him. The boy let out a short wail, then collapsed onto his side, exhausted and suddenly overwhelmed by the humiliation of what had just been done to him.

"Clean up your mess," Bruce ordered, pointing down at the puddle of pre-cum the boy had produced. "Then pour us each a glass of wine. We'll be outside. Don't keep us waiting."

Chris was left there on the floor, sobbing quietly, his dick still throbbing desperately inside its metal cage. Sniffling and wiping his nose with the back of his hand he crawled to his feet and spent a few seconds just standing there feeling very small and very bewildered and very lost. Then, remembering Bruce's orders, he hurried to the tiny kitchenette to find a rag. He was back on his hands and knees a moment later, cleaning his own pre-cum off the luxuriant carpet.

"We'll set up the main camera here," Mike Brussard told his crew as he checked the light levels. "Make sure we have good sound. I want every scream to come through loud and clear."

The outdoor location was just outside the training facility, an exercise yard of hard-packed dirt fenced in with razor wire. A small grandstand was placed close to the fence, and already packed with spectators. For most of them today would be their last day on the island. A new group of visitors would be flying in on Friday morning.

Today's event, which would be videotaped for later broadcast, was known simply as The Trojan Horse.

Within the squared outdoor yard, ten bizarre wooden contraptions were placed several feet apart, all in a single line, all facing the grandstand. They were wooden boxes, triangular in shape, with flat bases and sloping sides that formed a forty-five degree angle. Each box, each 'horse', was two feet [60cm] in length from front to back, and stood two feet [60cm] high from base to apex. Running the two-foot [60cm] length of the apex was a one-inch [2½cm] wide rubber strip. At the front of the box there was a carved wooden horse's head. In the center of the horse, attached to the rubber strip, there was a large black latex dildo. Each horse had a dildo of a different size, the biggest being nearly seven inches [18cm] long and frightfully thick. Each horse was numbered on the front panel, below the carved wooden horse head. Horses 02, 04, and 07 would remain empty today. The others would be occupied shortly.

The seven boy gladiators not currently occupied on other parts of the island were marched into the yard. All of them were in leather collars, with matching leather wrist and ankle cuffs. As was the case with many of the events, the boys had all been freed from their chastity devices. All of them currently sported boners. The crowd whistled and applauded and showered the hairless youngsters with scathing comments about their misbehaving organs. Each boy was ordered to stand behind the horse that bore his number.

Obeying quickly, the boys stood with their hands behind their heads, gazing down at the strange boxes, and all knowing exactly where those latex prongs were meant to go. Fourteen-year-old David's young teenaged face was a study in terror. His was the horse with the longest, thickest dildo. Down the line, Philippe and Illya both wore similarly miserable expressions. Since their arrival, the boys had grown accustomed to having plugs in their butts at all time, but these nasty prongs sticking up from the wooden boxes were just plain scary.

The younger boys all had progressively smaller dildos, but even little Miles was standing over a latex penis nearly five inches [12½cm] long. Tears were already forming in his eyes. The little boy did not want to sit down on that thing.

He had little choice.

"Stand over horses, boys," Jason ordered. He was speaking to them through a megaphone.

The seven boys all straddled the wooden horses, having to spread their legs wide to do so. Seven sets of young balls dangled erotically in the tropical heat. Seven hard boycocks bobbed and throbbed and in the case of the older boys leaked rather embarrassingly.

"Put your hands behind your backs."

The boy gladiators obeyed and waited. They knew things were about to get very unpleasant. On the rear panel of each horse there was a single steel ring mounted on a metal plate. The boys' wrist cuffs were attached to this ring with a twelve-inch [30cm] long chain. This action pulled them down until the tip of the dildo was resting ominously against their young rectums. They quickly discovered that being chained this way also made it impossible to stand up again. The boys' ankle cuffs were secured to similar rings on the sides of the horses. These rings were positioned slightly behind the center-line where the dildo was located. In this way the boys' feet would be kept off the ground and their legs forcibly drawn back. This position was not enough to be painful right away, but enough to put immediate strain on their smooth shapely young thighs and tend to force the boys to put more and more of their weight on the dildos directly beneath them.

Jason Sanborne now addressed the crowd. The boys cringed and shared nervous glances as they listened.

"The boys are now riding the horses," the head trainer began. "For the moment, the strength in their gorgeous young legs is enough to keep them from sliding down onto the dildos."

He paused and gestured at the seven young gladiators, their legs forced back, the muscles in their thighs already starting to hurt. They were already struggling, tugging on their bound and chained arms, testing to see how far they could stand up and not daring to allow the tip of the latex cock to touch their young boy-holes.

"As you can attest it is very hot out here today," Jason continued, "and the position they are in will become harder and harder to maintain. They cannot use their hands. Eventually, their legs will give out and they will have to sit down. The fun will begin when the boys start to slide down onto the dildos. They will still try to keep as much of those enormous things out of their butts as possible, so you will be able to watch and hear as they slowly impale themselves. It will, I assure you, be quite painful for them as we have coated the prongs with a lubricant derived from various hot peppers. The boys will feel the burning the second the dildos enter their rectums."

Yelps of fear and terror escaped from the boys even as the spectators applauded this sensible and wonderfully devious twist.

"You will notice that all of the boys currently have erections. Quite a few of them will remain hard throughout the contest, even as the dildos enter them and the burning begins. If we are lucky, one of two of them might even experience an orgasm or two. The boy who is the last one to sit town all the way on his horse is the winner of the contest."

Jason blew his whistle, indicating the official beginning of the terrible Trojan Horse competition. It was to be a weekly and sometimes twice-weekly event, and it would become the stuff of nightmares for these boys over the next few years of their harsh and pain-filled lives.

William Durand was out for a late afternoon walk. It was his daily routine to survey the island. He also understood the political importance of being seen when there were wealthy and well-connected guests on the island. He was dressed today much like a colonial gentlemen of a by-gone era. White Bermuda shorts, a fine white linen shirt, dark socks and white shoes, a Panama hat adorned his head. Young Trevor was shuffling along obediently behind him. The boy was stark naked this afternoon, but, in the fourteen-year-old's humble opinion, this was a big improvement over the humiliating maid's outfit he'd been forced to wear for most of the morning. His slave collar was still around his neck, but aside from that he was entirely nude and being led around by his cock and balls. Durand had buckled a thin leather strap around the young teen's tiny shrunken genitals and attached a chain leash to it. Trevor had first been introduced to the cock and ball leash at the age of ten, and he was now quite adept at keeping pace and thus keeping his balls from ending up sore and swollen at the end of a long walk behind his master. Durand would occasionally give the chain a sharp pull, just to remind the boy of his place and elicit a little yelp of protest.

Master and slave did make a striking pair. Trevor's slim frame, his smooth and hairless alabaster skin, gave him the appearance of a living statue. Durand had been careful to ensure the boy wore lots of sunscreen whenever they ventured out over the island. It was fine for the young gladiators to end up tanned a deep berry-brown, but his young Trevor had skin like porcelain, and he intended to keep it that way.

As they walked slowly down the main thoroughfare toward the arena, they encountered Ophelia Winstrom approaching from the opposite direction. Her little boy-pet Spike and Danny O'Hanlon were crawling along on their leashes on either side of her. Both of the young doggie-boys were muzzled, their butts plugged with puppy-tails, their hands encased in leather mitts. Pre-teen Danny's well-muscled wrestler's body contrasted nicely with the softer curves of little eight-year-old Spike.

"Good afternoon, Ophelia," William said warmly, flicking Trevor's cock-leash to bring him to a stop.

"And to you, Bill," Ophelia said. She pulled back lightly on the boys' leashes. "Sit!" The boy-pups immediately assumed a squatting position, their 'paws' on the ground between their knees.

"So, what do you think of my little island?" Durand asked.

The wealthy heiress grinned and her eyes lit up. "It is simply delightful, Bill. Positively delightful. I'm having a wonderful time. I'll be sure to tell all of my friends when I return home."

William Durand smiled inwardly. That was sort of word of mouth advertising that money just could not buy.

Back in the exercise yard, The Trojan Horse was entering its second half-hour. So far none of the boys had succumbed to the growing pain in their thighs. There was a lot of struggling and wiggling and whining, but so far they had all managed to keep the enormous dildos out of their cute little butts. Eleven-year-old Ian had momentarily relaxed his legs, and he immediately felt the bulbous tip of the latex cock pressing into his bottom. The burning sensation was also immediate and horrible. He'd shouted loudly and lifted himself off the dildo again. To his terror he discovered that the chain that bound his arms to the horse behind him was on a ratchet system. He couldn't bring himself back up to his previous position, because two inches [5cm] of the chain were now locked down by the ratchet. This put even more strain on his handsome little legs as he now had to lean noticeably forward to keep the giant prong out of his rear end.

He remained in that uncomfortable position for close to ten minutes. He was sweating profusely. It was running down face and dripping off his chin. He clenched his eyes tightly, trying to summon all his boyish strength. Finally with a loud cry of agony, his legs gave out and he began to slide down onto the dildo.

"Aaaiiii!" he shrieked as the monstrous latex penis slowly and relentlessly impaled him. Or, to put it more accurately, as the boy slowly and relentlessly impaled himself. That, of course, was the pure ironic cruelty of this event. Ian was about half way down when he tried once again to lift himself up, only to discover that the ratchet had taken all the slack out of the chain. He was now stuck half way down the length of the five-inch [12½cm] dildo, his tight little hole being forced open, the burning lubricant sending waves of searing pain into his gut. "Oooohh, nnnnnooooo! Please get me off 3; please 3; it burns!" All the while, the little eleven-year-old's cock was as stiff as a nail, much to the delight of the audience. Mike Brussard ordered his cameramen in close to get a good shot of the contorted expression of agony of the boy's face and naturally a nice shot of his hard four-inch [10cm] boner. Footage like this was priceless and he knew it. He was happy today's event was not being broadcast live, it would give him a change to do some real stylish editing in the studio later on. When it did finally air, it would be a masterpiece.

'I'll get another Emmy for this,' he thought. He would put it right next to the one he'd received two years ago for his work on 'Enslaved'.

"That's one down, six to go," Jason told the crowd. Ian had screamed himself out and was now whimpering and sobbing quietly, his little boy hole stretched wide and on fire, his slender cock fully erect, his legs aching and still jerking spasmodically in a vain effort to lift his seventy-five pound [34kg] body off the prong.

Jason had barely finished speaking when Miles Harris, as if on cue, became the second victim, sliding down into the dildo with an anguished shriek. The barely four-foot-tall [1.20m] ten-year-old writhed and wiggled for a few seconds, then started sobbing as the burning sensation in his rectum became more intense. Like Ian, his cute little pickle was as hard as a nail and showed no signs of going soft any time soon. He thrust his adorable little head back, let out a high-pitched wail, then a soft childish whimper, and then the little boy just sat there, limp, impaled on his horse, a lost and miserable expression on his sweet innocent face. He and Ian were both sniffling and crying, blinking tears out of their eyes. Flash bulbs went off as the spectators took photographs of the two little fellows, priceless souvenirs of their memorable weekend on Gladiator Island.

Over the next hour, and one by one, the boys all inevitably lost their battle with the wooden horses. Illya and Gabriel were the last two who had still managed to keep themselves off the wicked latex prongs, the strain in their young legs reaching torturous levels. Sweat was pouring down their faces, and Illya had bit his lower lip bloody in his desperate effort to keep that thing out of his butt. David had just given up a few moments earlier and slid down on his dildo, the longest and thickest one in the contest. His adolescent voice screamed out in the still humid tropical air. The crowd applauded. Like all of the boys before him, the young teen broke down in tears, his hard cock still throbbing insistently as he sat helplessly impaled on the dildo.

By this time, Miles and Ian had been riding their horses for over sixty minutes and both of them had experienced several dry cums, their hard little dicks still pointing up toward their belly-buttons. The crowd cheered loudly each time one of the little boys went into spasms. Between their brief moments of orgasmic ecstasy, the pre-teens sat there miserably on their wooden horses, fidgeting and struggling but unable to lift themselves off the dildos. Their sweet faces contorted in anguish.

None of the older boys had yet to orgasm, but they were certainly desperate to do so. In spite of the pain of the latex cocks in their butts, most of them were hard with their young dicks leaking pre-cum in copious amounts. At the moment, twelve-year-old Gabriel was the only boy whose penis was flaccid. So far he had managed to keep himself completely off the dildo, a feat of strength and stubborn determination that was not surprising for a street-tough kid from Liverpool. His young muscular legs were showing the strain, and he was beginning to gasp for breath. He knew he wouldn't last much longer. The crowd wasn't helping. Rather than cheering for him, they were shouting at him in a resounding chorus of 'Sit, boy, sit! Sit, boy, sit!' over and over again. He looked down the line at Illya, the only other boy still technically in the contest. The thirteen-year-old was currently screeching as the first two inches [5cm] of the enormous dildo beneath him entered his rectum.

"Just sit down, Illya!" Gabe shouted at the older boy. "Then it'll be over."

The other impaled boys all groaned their agreement, but Illya was every bit as stubborn as Gabriel. "Nnnnoooo 3; you sit 3; aaaghhh 3; you sit down," he shouted back, barely able to utter a coherent sentence with the giant dildo ripping him apart.

The two boys carried on a shouting match for a few seconds.

"Ohhh, will one of you please sit down!" David Brown moaned.

Finally Illya gave in. Not voluntarily to be sure, but the strain in his legs had become unbearable. With his eyes tightly clenched he allowed gravity to take over and slowly felt himself sliding down onto the remaining four inches [10cm] of the dildo. His half-hard dick immediately shot up to its full and rather amazing eight-inch [20cm] erection. He whined and cried in shame and agony as the plastic prong was solidly implanted in his butt. Once he was down, he could not get back up, pinned to the horse, with nothing to do but sit there and endure it.

"We have a winner," Jason announced to the ribald cheers of the spectators. "Now all Zero-Five has to do is plant his little butt down on the horse and the contest is over."

"What!" Gabriel yelled. "But I'm the winner 3; you can't make me 3; that's not fair 3;"

Jason ignored the boy's protest. "As long as Zero-Five holds out, all you other boys will go on sitting on the horses."

There were now six boys urgently and rather vocally pleading with Gabe to give up, but he didn't want to. He was really rather pissed. He was the winner. He'd nearly gone mad keeping himself off that horrible dildo, even now he could feel the tip of it just nestled against his little opening. The burning in his legs was terrible. 'This totally sucks!' he thought to himself. It was stupid to keep going, and he knew there was no chance of talking his way into getting off that horse without sitting down on it first. Like Illya before him, Gabe closed his eyes and let the latex invader work its way slowly up his butt. The burning lubricant instantly made him scream. Gabe forced himself down the rest of the way, the dildo stimulating his prostate and resulting in a turgid erection.

"Ok, ok! I'm down! I'm down! Get me off this thing!"

"Yeah, get us off!" the other boys all shouted in tandem.

Jason raised the megaphone once again. "Let's have the audience decide," he said. "Well, folks, what will it be? Do we let these little whiners off the horses now, or make them sit and squirm for another thirty minutes?"

The crowd's unanimous and instantaneous response should not have taken the poor boys by surprise. "Let them sit!"

The young gladiators cried in protest and a few of the bolder ones managed to glare angrily at the spectators.

"You bastards!" David shouted, his voice choosing that moment to break, making him sound like a little boy and leading to a round of cruel laughter from the crowd.

"Two demerits for you, One-Zero," Jason scolded him. "Watch your language."

"I'm sorry, sir," David squeaked, hoping a quick and polite apology would help him avoid more serious punishment. His two demerits also meant an additional two hours of isolation for Josh, but at the moment all the young teenager could think about was that terrible plastic cock stuffed up his butt and the rather humiliating effect it was having on his teenaged penis, which was fully erect, five-and-one-half inches [14cm] of boyflesh bobbing and throbbing and pointing up obscenely toward his stomach.

In the luxurious guest suite, Chris was tied spread-eagled on the bed, his arms and legs stretched taut, thick cotton rope wrapped around his wrists and ankles. A light breeze blew in from the open patio, making him shiver as the sweat on his nude body evaporated. The boy was on his back. His cock cage had been removed. He raised his head from the pillow as far as he could and looked down the length of his hairless body. His hard dick was sticking up in all its teenaged six-inch [15cm] glory, begging for attention. He could not see his balls, but he could certainly feel them. They ached, which was not at all surprising since they were currently tied off with thin nylon twine.

Thirty minutes earlier, Chris had looked on in mild terror as Lance, under Bruce's careful instruction, had slowly wound the rope in a thick coil around his adolescent balls, forcing them down and stretching his soft pink scrotum. Chris yelled and shouted and thrashed on the bed as Lance continued to work, wrapping the rope around each testicle, separating them and forcing his ball sack to stretch even further. The pressure on his balls was intense, and in his innocence the boy was certain his family jewels were going to be ripped clean off.

"Pleeease 3; don't! Please 3;" he'd shrieked as tears filled his blue eyes.

Bruce leaned over the bed and stared down at him. "You don't really think we'd take your nice young balls, do you?" he asked, mocking the boy's fear. "Calm down and let Lance finish. Deep breaths now. Are you really in pain?"

The boy sucked in air and came to the surprising realization that it really didn't hurt all that much. It just felt weird, having your balls all wrapped up like that. He stared back at Bruce and slowly shook his head. The man smiled at him. Lance kept going until all the rope was tightly coiled and the boy's balls were stretched down a good two inches [5cm], separated, and turning a nice shade of purple.

Now, as Chris lay there, he was starting to get into it. He was totally, desperately hard. Somehow the tight constriction and relentless ache in his balls was only making him harder. His young cock throbbed with the beat of his pulse. Being bound and helpless, his limbs stretched taut, only added to his feelings of arousal. Chris had always taken a private delight in being tied up, not that he would ever admit that to anyone, or himself. Even Josh didn't know about that, in spite of the many tie-up games they'd played with each other ever since they were little. In those games, somehow it was always Josh who ended up doing the tying and Chris who wound up being tied. The last few times, Chris had noticed a certain look in Josh's eyes that told him his little brother knew that something was going on, but if Josh had noticed the erection on his big brother's boxers, he hadn't said anything.

Strangely enough now that it was no longer his choice, it was even more exciting to him. It was scary of course, not being able to get free, but it was also making the thirteen-year-old exceedingly horny.

Every so often either Bruce or Lance would come over and give his penis a few slow, teasing strokes, milking a few drops of pre-cum out of him and causing the boy to moan in pleasure.

'Don't you dare cum, you little animal.' Bruce would say something to that general effect each time. Lance for the most part said nothing to him at all, but he seemed to have a particular skill at bringing Chris close to orgasm and denying him at the last minute.

Chris laid his head back again, rather enjoying the treat of being on a soft bed with a soft silken pillow under him. He closed his eyes. His breathing was shallow now.

'This isn't so bad,' he thought to himself. 'Maybe they'll make me cum again, like they did before. That would be cool.' Chris' dreamlike musings were interrupted when he felt a hand firmly grasping his cock. 'Oh, yeah 3; this is it.' The boy purred happily, sure he was finally going to get to shoot his pent-up teenage spunk. The thirteen-year-old's excitement slowly turned to confusion when he felt something ice-cold and very hard being pressed into his piss slit. It felt a little bit like the cock plug he'd been wearing for the last few days, but when he opened his eyes to investigate he discovered that it was definitely not the little two-inch [5cm] plug he'd rather come to enjoy.

His blue eyes danced with fear as he saw Bruce kneeling between his outstretched legs, holding a thin silver rod in his right hand. It was, in Chris' hurried and frightened estimation, at least twelve inches long [30cm] and a quarter of an inch [6mm] thick, thicker than the cock plug, and about six times longer.

"Oh, no way!" he shouted, jerking hard against the ropes. "You're not gonna 3;"

"Oh, yes, little man, I am," Bruce said with a wicked smirk. "It's called a sound. Don't worry, it is designed to be inserted into a boy's dick, and I'm really quite skilled at it. I will make sure it hurts you, a lot, if you keep bouncing around. Now are you going to be still, or I am going to give you a real reason to scream?"

Chris' terrified eyes watered. He instinctively looked over at Lance, figuring if there was any compassion in this room he would find it there. The younger man simply stared back at him. "I'd do as he says, if I were you, Chris."

"This is the smallest one I have," Bruce explained as he let the tip of the icy steel rod press gently against the boy's slit. "Lance, show him the rest of the collection."

Lance brought over a leather case and opened it so that Chris could see. The boy raised his head enough to look in the case and find nine more steel rods, the biggest one had to be close to three-quarters of an inch [20mm] thick. He felt sick to his stomach.

"That last one would probably ruin your nice big dick forever if I put it right now, so we'll have to work up to that."

"Oh, man 3; oh, shit 3;" Chris said under his breath. "Please don't do this to me, please 3; I'll suck your dicks again! 3; I'll, I'll do anything 3; please 3;"

Bruce smiled down at him. It was so adorable seeing this cute thirteen-year-old boy beg and plead and offer to suck their cocks. "You'll be sucking our dicks again anyway, boy, and I don't recall that indentured boys have a say in what happens to them. Now are you going to lie still and behave yourself?"

"Yes, sir," the boy almost sobbed, choking back frightened tears. "How 3; how far down will that thing go?"

"All the way, boy. There'll be about an inch [2½cm] sticking out of your dick when I'm done. The rest of it will be inside you. I'd keep that dick nice and hard if I were you. These things are murder when a boy's cock goes soft."

With that, Bruce began to work the sound into the boy's urethra. Chris gasped and wailed and thrashed his head on the pillow, but he did his best to keep his body perfectly still. The steel rod was so incredibly cold it almost burned. He could feel its icy hardness slowly sliding down into his dick. It stung terribly as it stretched his piss tube. Whenever the sound encountered a little resistance, Bruce would stop for a moment, draw it back up the length of the boy's cock and then quickly reinsert it, pushing it past whatever blockage it had found. This always caused a good deal more shock than actual pain for young Chris, but the result was the same, a loud high-pitched scream.

Chris was panting now, and sweating even harder. His cock remained rigid, and large amounts of pre-cum were oozing out around the steel sound.

"It's a good thing you're making so much juice," Lance said, running his fingers over the boy's taut rib-cage, making the extremely ticklish boy squirm.

"Keep still!" Bruce yelled at him, squeezing the kid's bound up balls as a reminder.

Chris nodded and raised his head once more to see what was happening between his legs. About six inches [15cm] of the sound had now disappeared into his dick. Bruce held the sound in place with one hand and began stroking the young teenaged boy's penis with the other. Chris groaned and gritted his teeth. Every stroke, up and down, caused the sound to move a little bit inside him.

"Oh, wow 3;"

Bruce grinned and stopped rubbing for a moment. He held Chris' straining throbbing dick straight up and released his grip on the end of the sound. Gravity now took over and Chris watched in bewildered amazement as three more inches [7½cm] of the steel rod quickly slid down inside him. "Ooohh, oohhh 3; oh, jeeez 3; goddamn it 3;"

"Watch your language, boy," Bruce gave the suddenly foul-mouthed teen's balls a good hard slap, then spent the next few minutes methodically fucking the boy's dick with the sound. Chris was wiggling his toes and moaning in pleasure and crying in pain all at once. It was terrible. This sick freak had just stuck a metal rod down his dick and was ramming up in and out, and yet somehow the boy's dick remained incredibly hard. In fact he was getting very close to cumming.

'Maybe I'm the one who's sick,' Chris thought. "I think I'm gonna cum, sir," he said in a weak, far off voice, remembering his standing orders from Jason.

"Not yet," Bruce replied, letting the sound slide back in all the way and then letting go of the boy's dick. "You're dick should start to go soft in a few seconds, then the sound will start to come out by itself. I'm afraid you're going to find that part rather unpleasant."

Indeed he did. He had to bite his lip to keep from shouting and tears were rolling freely from his eyes by the time the twelve-inch [30cm] rod finally plopped out onto the bed.

"Very good," Bruce said, tussling the boy's still rather short and spiky hair. "Now for a bigger one. If you cum before we want you to, I'll go right to the biggest one, got it?"

Chris nodded vehemently, then sighed and closed his eyes as he felt Lance's hand bring his flaccid penis back to another full erection. He didn't get much chance to enjoy the feeling as the second somewhat thicker sound was immediately inserted into his dick, much more quickly than the first had been.

'Eight more to go,' he thought to himself with dread. He wasn't sure he could hold out that long. Every time they touched his dick, he felt his balls draw up against the ropes that bound them, and a tingly feeling shot through his entire body. He'd clench all of his abdominal muscles and try as hard as he could not to cum. So far he'd made it work, but he was getting closer and closer to losing it each time.

By the time the sixth sound, one-half inch [13mm] in thickness, was inserted, Chris no longer had to worry so much about keeping himself from cumming. As the rods grew progressively larger and heavier, so did the amount of discomfort they caused him. The half-incher was excruciating. The poor boy screamed his head off the entire time. It felt like his dick was being split open from the inside out.

"Take it out! Please 3; you gotta take it out!"

But Chris' screams fell on deaf ears. Lance straddled the young teenager's chest and attached a pair of clamps to the boy's nipples. "That will give you something new to think about," he said. The clamps were similar to the ones Jason had put on him before, that first night in the training room. Chris screamed even louder and jerked even harder against his bonds, digging the cotton ropes deeper into the flesh of his wrists and ankles.

They continued torturing him with the sounds for another hour, sometimes going back to smaller one before moving on to the next larger one in the set. Chris was having a hard time keeping an erection at this point, but that offered him no reprieve from the metal rods. Having them inserted into his flaccid cock was even more agonizing than when he was hard. The irony of the situation was not lost on the young thirteen-year-old. Now that he really needed to have an erection, he couldn't get one.

Finally, when Chris had been reduced to uncontrollable sobs and pathetic whimpers, they stopped. Chris looked down the length of his body as Bruce slowly withdrew the last sound. They hadn't used the thickest one on him, but that hardly mattered from the boy's point of view. His now pathetically limp dick was on fire, the ache in his balls was intense, and his nipples were hurting from the clamps.

Lance again straddled him. "Take a deep breath," was the only warning he gave the boy before he quickly removed the metal clamps.

Chris didn't think he had the strength left to scream, but he was wrong. If anyone had been walking along the beach they would have heard the boy's high anguished wail coming through the open windows of the luxury suite.

Chapter 28
Free Time

Gabriel was officially the winner, but he didn't feel terribly victorious. None of the boys had any congratulations for him, in fact most of them were rather mad at him for refusing to sit down on his horse right away, prolonging the ordeal for all of them. Tired and sore, they sat with their heads down waiting for the mules to bring in the meal cart. The television was still on, showing Josh's ongoing punishment in the black room, but none of them bothered to look. When the cart arrived, the boys lined up to receive their nightly ration of soy-loaf and rice and shuffled back like zombies to their places at the table. They ate quietly, the only sound their plastic sporks scraping against their plastic trays. The sporks were a recent addition, since the initial plan to have the boys eat using only their hands resulted in some rather untidy messes.

After dinner was over and the cart rolled out by the silent teenaged mules, Jason gathered the boys in front of the television and called them to attention. He had a clipboard in his hands.

"As you can see, Zero-Two has a little less than four hours remaining on his original punishment. As a group you all have earned a total of twelve demerits since last night, which means Zero-Two will be spending another twelve hours in the black room, thanks to you. He won't be told which of you specifically earned the demerits that sentenced him to more time, but your demerits will be going on the board tonight, so he'll be able to see them when he gets out."

The boys who had received demerits since last night all hung their heads guiltily. Ian turned out to be the worst offender, accounting for five of the demerits, and thus nearly half of Josh's extra time. His own brother Chris had been given two demerits, costing his brother an additional two hours. Of course Chris was with Bruce and Lance and the moment and would still be in their charge when Josh was released.

"Now the good news," Jason continued. "We've decided to give you free time for the rest of the night. No competitions. You can shower. You can read or play board games. Several of you have calls home tonight. You'll be told when it's your turn. We'll open the outside exercise yard for you," Jason pointed to a door on the other side of the barracks that as yet the boys had never seen open. "There's a basketball hoop out there. If any of you want the ball, just see one of the guards. Roger and Calvin are in the weight room. If any of you want to join them, let me know before I leave. If you go, you stay there until they bring you back for lights out. They're not going to shuttle you boys back and forth."

This announcement led to a boisterous round of boyish chattering. All of the young indentured boys were excited about having a whole night free of competition.

"Now we have to get you back in your chastity devices, and then Anthony is going to give you some new tattoos."

The boys all looked down at the numbers permanently inked on the flanks of their left buttocks. They shivered in dread at the thought of enduring those nasty needles again.

"This one won't be permanent," Jason said to ease their fears. "You'll each be getting the Worldwide Boy Gladiators logo on your chest. Wear it with pride, boys! We'll also be putting sponsors' logos on your backs, each one of you will be getting a different one."

While the seven gladiators were being locked in their chastity devices, Anthony arrived and with his usual efficiency set up an area where he could add more of his distinctive artwork to the boy's bodies. This time it would not be a permanent modification, but the inking would last for several weeks. One by one the boys came over and sat down on the metal stool. With no need to have fear of needles, each boy looked down with curiosity and interest as Anthony painted on his young human canvases. The stylized letters 'WBG' were carefully drawn onto each of their chests and colored in blacks, reds and yellows. The boys all had to admit the logo was extremely cool and looked really neat emblazoned in the center of their chests. Each boy also received a different sponsor's tattoo on his back. They had fun reading off which sponsor was on which boy.

Little Miles and fourteen-year-old Philippe were sporting logos of two leading soft drink brands, both official sponsors of the show.

Ian Cloverdale had the logo of 'BoyGuard Chastity Belts', the same brand he himself was wearing.

Alexei Graznikov was a walking advertisement for a major computer manufacturer.

Gabe Shelton and Illya Casparev were sponsored by two competing credit card companies, and David Brown simply had the XB1 logo on his back. Chris, Danny and Josh would all get their new tattoos once they returned to the barracks.

"Alright, boys," Jason called after Anthony had finished with David. "Any takers for the weight room?"

Gabriel reluctantly raised his hand, only because his own trainer Roger was going to be there and the boy figured it was just expected that he show up. He was the only boy who volunteered.

"Go wait for me by the door, Zero-Six," Jason told him. "You will have to be chained."

"Yes, sir," the twelve-year-old said and marched off toward the secured inner door of the barracks.

"The rest of you have free time until lights out. Any demerits you receive still count against Zero-Two's time, so try to behave yourselves."

The boy's all took a quick glance at poor Josh chained to the walls of the black room and encased from head to toe in latex and leather. The digital clock in the corner of the screen read 03:36:23. After his first twenty-four hours expired, his additional time would begin. Gabriel was quickly chained and led off to the training center by Jason. The rest of the boys broke up into smaller groups. Ian, Alexei, and Illya went outside to try out the dirt-packed exercise yard, bookish David eagerly returned to his fantasy novel, Philippe waited anxiously for his first chance to call home, and Miles, the littlest gladiator, stumbled into his cell and curled up on his bunk, falling asleep in a matter of minutes.

In their luxury suite, Bruce and Lance were enjoying a late dinner. The youngest of the mules, a dark-haired thirteen-year-old with the number 1674 tattooed on his left thigh had delivered the food cart. He was now standing silently by the door, ready to take the cart back once the guests had finished their dinner. The mule kept his head bowed at all times, and did not even attempt to make eye contact with the other boy he'd noticed in the room. He remained perfectly straight and still, his arms at his sides, his genitals encased and permanently locked away in a small spherical metal pod.

It was young Christopher's job to act as waiter. He was stark naked at the moment, wearing only the spiked leather slave collar and the leather wrist and ankle cuffs. A foot-long chain ran between his ankles, hobbling the boy's movements and forcing him to shuffle around comically as he refilled the glasses and empty plates. He was free of his chastity device but silver penis plug was still in him. His long soft teenaged cock swayed back and forth between his legs as he moved around the table. He'd managed to not have an erection for almost two hours now, something of a record for him on those rare occasions when the chastity cage was removed.

The two men carried on a conversation as if Chris was merely a piece of furniture, acknowledging his presence only when they needed more food or drink. Dinner was roast duck, with fresh vegetables, warm bread and a pricey bottle of wine. Chris looked on with envy and rubbing his growling stomach. He hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. He licked his lips subconsciously as he laid another slice of the succulent duck onto Bruce's plate. He'd never actually eaten anything so fancy as that, but it smelled so good to the hungry young teenager.

"What do they normally feed you?" Lance asked as he waited for Chris to refill his plate.

Chris looked up and his eyes smiled. He was happy to be acknowledged. "We get this food loaf stuff," he explained, wrinkling up his nose in disgust. He was not really sure what exactly was in it. "It doesn't taste too good. It's supposed to be like meat loaf, but it's not. They give us rice 3; and sometimes we get soup. That's it. Breakfast is better, kinda. We get eggs then. And bacon 3; oh, and they give us apples and oranges too."

"Sounds like you're not too crazy about the food, boy," Bruce said.

"It's pretty bad, sir," Chris confessed, "and there's not enough of it."

"Slaves don't get to eat like normal people," Bruce reminded him. "You should be grateful for what you get."

Chris nodded and returned to his silent stance, obediently waiting on the two men.

"I suppose we should feed you at some point. What do you think, Lance? Should we let the little slave share our dinner?"

The boy's eyes lit up hopefully. Real food!

"There's plenty of it," Lance replied. He then turned his eyes to Chris. "Would you like to fix a plate for yourself, cutie?"

"Yes, sir, please, sir," Chris said, his voice breaking awkwardly and adorably.

The two men shared a private glance. "Go ahead," Bruce told the young slave boy. "Don't make a pig of yourself or you'll go hungry."

Chris put a modest share on an empty plate, then looked at them questioningly.

"The floor is good enough for you, boy," Bruce said.

The boy sat down and crossed his legs with his plate in front of him. He wasn't offered utensils and he didn't ask. Eating with his hands was hardly the least dignified thing he'd been forced to do since he became a slave. It didn't take him long to gobble everything down. He was eagerly licking his fingers a few moments later.

"Would you like seconds?" Lance asked with a bemused smile.

The boy's eyes lit up. "Can I?"

As always, younger Lance deferred to older Bruce, who nodded slowly. "Help yourself. We'll help you work off those extra calories later tonight."

Chris stared at him for a moment, wondering exactly what price he would be paying for getting to eat like a real kid again, even if just for one night.

When all the food was gone, Chris was instructed to get up and clear the table. He took everything back to cart and the waiting mule.

"Here ya go," Chris said in a soft whisper. He knew it was against the rules to talk to any of the mules, but the other boy seemed so sad. "My name's Chris, what's yours?"

For the first few seconds, the mule didn't give any indication he'd even heard Chistopher's voice, then the boy quickly and quietly pointed to the number tattooed on the front of his left thigh.

"Oh," Chris said. "Well, nice meeting you and stuff," he quickly shuffled back to his two temporary masters. Mule 1674 pushed the dinner cart out and began the long haul back to the kitchen. His work shift had just started, and he was still quite sleepy and sore, but that was nothing new to him.

Chris stood in front of the table, waiting for his orders.

Bruce grabbed the thirteen-year-old's soft cock and pulled out the penis plug. "Go into the bathroom and piss," the stern man told him. "Don't close the door. Squat over the toilet. Don't touch your penis and don't make a mess."

"Yes, sir." Chris instantly scurried off to the bathroom, his soft four-inch [10cm] long cock swinging from side to side as he hurried to obey, the chains between his ankles clinking along as he went.

The bathroom was enormous, with a big hot tub, an ocean view and expensive looking tiles on the walls. Chris sat down on the toilet and took a good long piss. He'd been holding it since that morning.

'Damn I really needed to pee,' he thought to himself as his loud powerful stream splashed into the bowl. It felt good to have a little privacy, even though the door was open and Bruce and Lance could both see him sitting there peeing. He felt like he could probably shit too, but the butt-plug made that impossible. Just as a test, the he tried to see if he could poop the plug out of his ass, but it wasn't going anywhere. The boy was starting to grow accustomed to having the thick metal invader up his butt all the time. It still kept his penis leaking, but it wasn't as uncomfortable as it was those first few days it was inside him. That's not to say the boy wasn't constantly aware of its presence.

He stood up and flushed and washed his hands, figuring that was probably included as part of his given orders. Wiping dry, Chris marched back to the living area of the suite. Bruce and Lance were on the sofa watching a taped re-broadcast of the first chariot race.

"You lost," Bruce reminded the naked boy.

"Yes, sir," the thirteen-year-old replied glumly. "I'll do better next time."

"Stand at attention," Bruce snapped the order quickly.

Just as quickly Chris assumed the required and by now well-practiced position, hands behind his head, legs spread, back arched stretching his lean thirteen-year-old torso. The two men stood up, Bruce in front of him, Lance behind him, and ran their hands gently over the boy's smooth hairless body.

"mmmm 3;" Chris purred. He erected almost immediately. Bruce gave the boy's hard frustrated penis a quick firm smack.

"None of that, you naughty boy."

Chris whimpered softly and closed his eyes. It felt so good having someone touch his dick. He shivered involuntarily.

Lance stepped away for a moment and returned with the ball-gag. "Open up, kid," the younger man said. He forced the rubber ball into the young teen's mouth and tightened the straps behind Christopher's head.

"Run in place until your dick is soft," Bruce said, slapping Chris on his butt.

Chris obeyed, having only little difficulty with the chains between his ankles, and managed to get his penis soft again in just a few minutes. Bruce took no time putting a thick silver cock ring on him, pushing the boy's testicles through first then pulling the kid's soft four-inch [10cm] teen dick until the ring nestled against his bare hairless groin. A leather leash was then attached to the top of the ring.

"Have you been trained to walk on a cock-leash yet?" the older man asked.

Chris looked down at himself and the three-foot [90cm] leather leash now attached to his cock and balls. He shook his head 'no'.

"Well it's time you learned. We're off to the beach. Stay close. If I have to yank on this to remind you," he tugged slightly on the leash, "you'll be hurting."

Trailing behind them on the cock-leash, Chris shuffled along silently. He had to move his legs at half a run to keep up with the longer strides of the two grown men. It was a comical and rather adorable sight, this young teenaged boy being led around by his genitals.

It was Christopher Andrews' first visit to the beautiful beaches of Gladiator Island. The sand was purest white and seemed to glow beneath the setting sun. The blue water glistened. The roar of the ocean filled his young ears. As he stared at the rolling waves, the sun went down. Behind him, the floodlights that surrounded the various athletic venues cast the island in an eerie silver glow.

After just standing and watching the surf for a while, Bruce dropped the cock-leash and went back to the suite to get something.

"Keep and eye on him, Lance."
The younger man nodded swiftly and watched his partner, and master, walk back up the beach. His posture seemed to relax once the older man was out of sight. Chris looked up at him questioningly. At thirteen he was still too young to really understand the complexity of the relationship between the two men, but he was starting to figure things out, lots of things actually, about his life, about who he really was inside.

Lance returned the boy's gaze but said nothing. He reached behind Chris' head and unbuckled the ball-gag.

"You won't need this for a while," he said. "Just don't talk out of turn, or Bruce will make me put it back in."

The boy nodded his compliance and quickly rubbed his jaw. He wasn't fond of ball-gags, but he was slowly growing accustomed to wearing them.

Lance took Chris' cock-leash and led the boy down to the water. The cool wet sand felt wonderful beneath the boy's feet. He only now realized just how sore they were. He'd been running and walking and standing and jumping on them almost non-stop for the last two weeks.

"Do you like the ocean?" Lance asked.

"Love it. Every summer we'd go to Rehoboth for a week. We'd just gotten back home a few days before we got our letters."

"Letters?"

"You know, sir, from XB1. 'You've been specially selected to participate in our new program Worldwide Boy Gladiators 3; ' " Chris made his teenaged voice as deep as possible as he paraphrased the letter that had started everything. Sometimes he wished he'd never even opened it. "That's how I ended up here."

"Oh. Was it worth it?"

Chris stared out at the water. Beyond the horizon, the sun was still setting the ocean aglow. His eyes started watering and he quickly wiped them with the back of his hand. "I don't know yet. I mean it's a lot of money. Five million. Dad says it'll be a lot more by the time I'm free. Kinda sucks being a slave though."

"Well, you chose to do this, so I can't feel too sorry for you. Wanna go for a swim?"

"Can I?"

Lance let go of the cock leash and bent down to remove the chains between the thirteen-year-old's feet. He looked up at the young teen with a warm smile. "Stay where I can see you. Bruce will be very mad at me if I let you drown."

"Not much chance of that," Chris said with well-earned pride in his aquatic skills. He laughed and ran for the water. He stopped when it was waist deep and splashed around like a little kid in a giant bathtub. This was the closest thing to freedom he had tasted since the XB1 plane had brought him here, and the closest thing he would know for quite a few months and years to come. He swam for a few minutes, enjoying the cool water against his bare skin. The ocean was so warm.

Not wanting to push his luck, he didn't stay out for long. Dripping wet he trudged back onto the sand, looking back longingly at the rolling waves. Bruce had returned. He and Lance now held several coils of thick rope in their hands.

"Lie down on the your belly," Bruce told him.

Chris looked around confused.

"Right there."

Chris did as he was told and laid down on the wet sand. The waves stopped rolling in about two feet [60cm] from him. Before he could do or say anything, his wrists and ankles were quickly tied. Very tightly. Bruce cinched the boy's elbows together next and tied them as well. His bound ankles were then drawn up and tied to his bound wrists. Chris was now hog-tied on the beach, the water inching closer to him with each swell of the waves.

"Tide's coming in, boy," Bruce said as he gave the thirteen-year-old a pat on the butt. "I'd hold my breath once it starts to roll over you."

Chris was terrified. "You're not gonna 3; oh, man 3; don't leave me here! Please!" He struggled against the ropes, but he was bound and helpless and not going anywhere.

"Oh, don't be such a cry baby," Bruce scolded him. "Lance and I will be up on the sand. We won't let you drown. You will be safe. That's all you need to know and pretty much the only right you have. Now shut your mouth or I'll gag you."

Chris jerked in the ropes again, but started to calm down. He lay there hog-tied, listening to the crash of waves and the gentle rolling of the water up the beach. Turning his head toward the ocean he could see the water slowly and relentlessly creeping toward him. It seemed to take forever for it to finally reach him, and at first it just barely touched him. The thirteen-year-old was beginning to think it wasn't coming in any farther, but he was wrong.

Over the next ten minutes, the water came in farther and deeper, rolling around and then finally over his lean, naked body. Chris had to hold his head up now each time to keep it from being covered. It was terrible and scary, Bruce's assertions aside. It got to the point where he could actually feel his bound-up body starting to float with each incoming surge, and the outgoing flow would move him closer and closer to the waves, inch by inch. Finally even holding his head up did no good. The ocean water covered him completely now each time it came in. Chris was a great swimmer and he loved the water, but this was a nightmare. He was truly terrified. He started shouting and screaming at them.

"Get me out! Get me out!"

He got several mouths full of salty seawater for his troubles. Finally, just as his panic had reached its peak, he felt two pairs of strong hands lift him out of the water and carry him back to the dry warm beach. He was crying openly now. He buried his face in the sand.

"God, I wanna go home," he said to himself as the two men untied the wet soggy ropes from his slender limbs.

They flipped him onto his back, and retied his hands behind his head. Lance grabbed Chris' ankles and folded the boy's slim muscular legs up toward his chest, exposing the thirteen-year-old's bottom. He whimpered and struggled against the ropes when they yanked the plug out of his butt. Chris had his eyes closed at that moment, but he felt something hard entering him down there. He grunted and let out a little whimper as he took his second cock of the day up his thirteen-year-old ass. Bruce squatted down over Chris' face and fed his balls into the boy's mouth.

"Lick them good, boy, and be gentle. If I feel any teeth you'll really get it."

It was hard not to bite down as every thrust of Lance's dick caused the boy to moan and shudder. Lance was hitting Christopher's special spot every time. The boy felt his cock harden and throb. It was pointing up toward his belly button now, turgid and leaking and eager for attention he knew it would not be getting.

The digital clock outside the black room read 00:00:00.

"How much extra time?" Doctor Trench asked.

"Twelve hours," Hannah replied, watching the eleven-year-old boy in the latex bodysuit slumped in his chains. "Can we start right away?"

"Absolutely. We'll give him some additional fluids and he'll be fine."

"He's been in there for twenty-four hours," Hannah said, "shouldn't we set his little ass on a toilet for a few minutes."

"The boy hasn't had anything solid in his system for over thirty hours now. I flushed him out thoroughly before we put him in the suit. The butt-plug will take care of the rest. Let's go tell him the bad news."

"Wait for the camera crew," Hannah said. "I want them to film this. I get a bonus every time that boy is featured in the nightly re-cap show."

Josh was in a daze, half-awake, half-asleep. He stomach was hurting from hunger, and his arms and legs were aching. His hands were numb. The tube in his penis was very uncomfortable. He could feel it running the length of his piss hole and disappearing somewhere deep inside him. The boy could never tell if he was actually peeing or not, but always felt like he needed to. It was scary and humiliating, and with the tight cock-and-ball harness strapped in place, his oversized boyhood was almost always in a semi-erect state. The harness, and the tightness of the latex suit, prevented him from having a full boner. He was actually happy about that. His big penis had been the principal culprit in getting him into this mess in the first place.

'It's not like I can help it,' he'd thought miserably to himself in one of his few recent lucid moments.

Condemned to total darkness and silence, the boy's first indication that someone had entered the room was when he felt a hand playfully caressing his latex-clad behind. He jerked fully awake and struggled feebly against the chains. He next felt the hood being unbuckled. The hope that he was finally going to be freed made his heart race. The gag came out and hood came off. Immediately Josh's eyes fluttered and he tried to open them.

"Keep your eyes closed, Joshua Andrews," Trench said sternly. Hearing his name snapped him further out of his isolation-induced daze.

"Am 3; am 3; Am I done?" he asked softly, desperately, weakly. His high voice was dry and hoarse. He coughed and sniffled.

"No," Hannah said, swirling her finger over the large latex-covered bulge between the eleven-year-old boy's legs.

Josh moaned in protest. The catheter had been in for a full twenty-four hours now, and the cock harness had kept him half-hard for much of that time. His penis was sore and tender. He didn't want anyone to touch it, not even through the thick shiny latex.

"How 3; how much longer, ma'am?" he asked, his head hung in exhaustion.

"Twelve more hours, little man," his trainer told him.

"Oh no 3;" the little gladiator choked back a sob. "Please don't make me 3; I'm sorry I finished last 3; oh, please, ma'am, please 3;I can't do this anymore 3;"

Hannah spanked his butt hard through the latex. "Stop it. You signed the contract. You're getting a lot of money. And you did finish last. Your punishment ends when we tell you it ends, not before."

Doctor Trench held another bottle of 'Gladiator Punch' to the Josh's lips and he gulped it down desperately. It was still dribbling off his chin when they pulled the hood down over his head again and forced the penis-gag into his mouth. The cameraman got a priceless close-up of the boy's terrified and thoroughly broken expression in those final seconds before Josh was encased again in the blinding leather hood.

"Twelve hours, Zero-Two," was the final thing the boy heard. He felt the straps and buckles being tightened once again. He started to cry hysterically, but he no longer had the strength to put up much of a fight.

The doctor checked Josh's catheter tube for any kinks or blockages. Satisfied, she nodded to Hannah and the two women departed, the cameraman slowly backing out of the room, getting a parting shot of the bound boy in the shiny black suit. The digital clock over the door read 11:59:59. Josh's muffled frustrated cries were barely audible when the door was closed and locked.

Lance and Bruce dragged a tired and limping Chris back to the suite, pulling him along on the cock-leash. Lance had fucked him long and rough, and then the two men had changed positions and started all over again. The thirteen-year-old had maintained a powerful throbbing erection the entire time, and finally experienced a shattering prostatic orgasm, globs of his white milky boy-juice oozing slowly out of his dick for several agonizing minutes. Without the pleasurable climax of ejaculation it was hardly what the young teen wanted, but at least he did get to release some of his pent-up spunk. He barely had the strength to stand when they finally got him to his wobbly feet.

In the suite, the cock-leash was removed. Lance took charge of him from there and watched as Chris showered and used the bathroom and brushed his teeth, making sure the boy did not touch his dick, which was already showing signs of getting hard again. When they returned to the living area, Chris noticed that a small metal cage had been delivered and set in front of the bed.

The boy stood obediently with his hands behind his head as his chastity cage was locked in place. The leather collar, body harness, wrist and ankle cuffs were all put back on and secured with padlocks. A one-foot [30cm] chain was clasped between his wrist cuffs, and another one at his ankles. He was pushed down onto his hands and knees, and a vibrating butt-plug was shoved into his now sore and well-used rectum. Bruce turned the plug to its lowest sitting, enough to provide the boy with constant maddening anal stimulation all night long.

"Into the cage, boy," Bruce said.

Chris crawled inside. It was a snug fit. He had just enough room to turn himself around and lay down curled on his side. The bars were thick. The base of the cage was wooden. There was no blanket, no pillow, nothing to serve as a cushion. Chris would be a very sore and very stiff-limbed boy come the morning. Lance closed the door and installed a large heavy padlock.

"Get some sleep, Chris," he said, using the boy's name. "We've got more fun planned for you tomorrow.

It didn't take the boy long to follow those orders. Even as the plug vibrated away in his butt, the thirteen-year-old fell into a deep slumber.

Sometime after midnight, when the gladiators were all asleep, with the possible exception of Joshua Andrews, the boy mules were marched into their stables by Mitchell Harwell's security team. It was a small wooden structure located just outside the main production facility. Unlike the barracks of the gladiators, there were no obvious hi-tech security measures to keep the boys inside, there was no need. The mules had all been slaves for at least five years, some for much longer. They'd adapted to lives of misery, humiliation and hard labor and seldom offered any physical, or mental resistance.

Once inside the stables, they immediately strip out of their short gray slave tunics, revealing their wiry, slim, nude and completely hairless bodies. Wearing only their iron collars and their spherical metal chastity pods, they stand in a straight line over the communal toilet trench as they do every night. They are bent over and their wrists are shackled to a metal rod running the length of the trench. Harwell's security men remove the butt-plugs from the thirteen to fifteen year old boys' asses and quickly insert enema nozzles all connected to a master pipe running over their heads. Smaller nozzles are inserted into the small holes at the base of their small spherical chastity pods. The water is turned on and the clamps are removed to start the flow into the boys' bowels. Simultaneously a strong spray of water is forced into the chastity pods, washing each boy's penis and testicles without the need to actually free them from their permanent imprisonment. Each boy is filled up until he is moaning and sobbing fitfully. With practiced efficiency, the water is stopped. The nozzles are pulled out. The teen boys, already positioned over the foul-smelling trough, release the contents of their bowels. The all begin peeing now too, their urine, mixed with the wash water, dribbling out of a small hole on the underside of the spherical pod that permanently encases their young genitals.

Their daily group enema completed, the mules are then put into special leather harnesses which buckle over their shoulders and around their chests and have two long chains attached to the back. A track runs over their heads, suspended from the central wooden beam above. Six heavy-duty hooks and pulleys are swinging from the track, spaced two-feet [60cm] apart. The chains on the boys' harnesses are attached to the hooks and the boys are raised up onto their toes by the pulleys, which are then locked in place. The boys will spend their first four-hour rest period like this, hung from hooks and standing on their tip-toes. They will have another four-hour rest later in their day.

The lighting inside the mules' stable is dim, provided by three bare overhead bulbs hanging from the exposed rafters. The floor is hard-packed dirt, with straw placed beneath the hanging hooks to soak up any urine the boys may spill during their rest period. The mules are not gagged, but they are not allowed to talk to each other. Overhead cameras monitor them constantly to ensure their total obedience. Harwell's men next spray the boys down with a high-pressure hose, using frigid water mixed with strong smelling antibacterial disinfectant. Any boy unfortunate enough to get it in his eyes will be screaming for several minutes. They are left dripping wet to get what sleep they can until their labors start all over again. The lights do not go out.

Mule 31-29-1674-C was twelve years ten months old, although he could not recall that fact himself. The youngest mule of the six on Gladiator Island, he was originally from Italy, and his given name was Alessandro. He no longer remembered that either. '1674' was now the only name he knew or answered to. He was sold by his parents at the age of five to a private slave-training and auction house in Naples. For the next three years, aside from being kept naked and wearing a brown leather slave collar, and frequent spankings, his life was relatively carefree and easy. He was well fed and allowed to play with the other little boys living in the training stables. When 1674 turned eight, things started to change.

His slave number was tattooed onto the side of his left buttocks. '31' indicated the year of his enslavement, '29' his country of origin, the four digits after that represented his identification number. The 'C' was an international code indicating the boy was to be enslaved for life with no restrictions placed on his treatment, training and potential body modifications for a variety of services.

After being tattooed, 1674 was taken to a small room where a doctor applied an ice-cold spray to his tiny genitals and began the basic modification common to all mules. First, the boy was given an extremely tight circumcision and his frenum was removed entirely. The tightness of the circumcision caused his penis to have a permanent downward curve and would make it impossible for the boy to achieve a normal erection. His newly exposed cock-head was then pierced with a thick steel ring with a flanged end. Surgery then began on his scrotum. His little hairless ball-sack was opened and split exactly down the middle and his tiny nuts were repositioned above and to either side of his newly skinned penis. The loose skin of the boy's bisected scrotum was then expertly sutured, the excess cut away, leaving the eight year old boy with his balls separated and held permanently and tightly to his groin, just above his penis. The procedure has become known as scrotal inversion and has become standard among mules held by private dealers and private masters.

Once the boy's newly re-shaped ball sack had healed, his modified genitals were locked into the spherical chastity pod. The flanged ring that pierced the head of his dick was clasped to a solid steel ring inside the pod, ensuring that his penis remained restrained and incapable achieving erection. Since that day, the pod had been removed on exactly two occasions, both times to replace it with a larger one as the boy grew. 1674 would often feel an uncomfortable tightness inside the pod, but he was entirely uneducated and understood nothing about his own body, or the changes that, two months shy of thirteen, he was beginning to undergo. Often he would awake to find clear sticky fluid dripping out of the hole where his pee came out, but he did not know what it was, and it was not his place to ask questions. His only focus was to work hard and do exactly as he was told. He really knew no other life than that of a thoroughly de-humanized slave boy, and it never occurred to him that he might aspire to be anything but what he was, a filthy, worthless animal good only for hard labor and constant discipline. He hung there from his hook, darting his eyes up and down the line at the other five boys who shared his fate. He did not speak to them and they did not speak to him or to each other. He was feeling that odd sensation inside his pod again. It was a bit painful, but also sort of nice. He wondered if the other boys had the same feelings inside their pods.

1674 closed his eyes and drifted off into a fitful slumber. Over the years, the boy had learned to sleep while bound in just about any position, even standing on his toes. In just four more hours he would be awakened again and taken to the kitchen to help prepare breakfast for the boy gladiators. It did not occur to him to be jealous of them. In fact he was rather happy that he didn't have to do those dangerous and painful things. Better a mule than a gladiator, in his admittedly limited opinion.

Chapter 29
There Are Other Ways to Cum

Danny found the little kid exceptionally weird. The boy never stood up. He never made any sound but little barks and yips. His hands and feet were always encased in leather mitts. He really was more like a dog than a boy, but he seemed friendly and he'd helped Danny with little winks and nods of his head whenever the older boy was about to do something wrong. For his part, Danny's first day as a doggie-boy had gone rather well. He was embarrassed, being kept on all fours all the time, and not being allowed to talk, but aside from a few sharp smacks on his behind, he hadn't suffered too badly.

"You're awake," Ophelia said, standing over him with a cup of coffee in her hand. "Good. Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, miss 3;," Danny answered, forgetting that little puppy boys don't speak.

"I'll have to punish you for talking," the lady said with a warm smile, enjoying the look of fear on the young boy's face, "but we'll take care of that later today. Sit up and spread your legs, let me see your penis."

Danny got into the required position. Ophelia observed his small flaccid organ and nodded her approval.

"Was that little thing hard this morning?"

Danny shook his head. Strangely he couldn't remember it being hard in several days. Danny had little interest in sex and never masturbated, but he did get erections for short periods of time and, like most boys, he almost always woke up with one. It was odd that he didn't have one this morning.

"Good boy. Hold out your hand."

Danny obeyed and the woman placed a small ring of keys into his palm.

"Get Spike up and take him into the bathroom. Those keys will unlock your collars and Spike's mitts. You two can wash yourselves in the tub. Be quick and don't make a mess. You can stand up to wash. Spike can too. He knows it is the only time he's allowed to stand up like a boy. Help Spike put his mitts back on before you come out. Get moving. We'll go for a walk before breakfast."

Danny nudged the younger boy awake and whispered softly into his ear. "We have to take a bath. Come on."

Spike stretched and yawned and was quickly up on all fours, blinking his bright eyes, rested and content and ready for another day. The two boys crawled into the bathroom, trailing their leashes behind them. In the luxurious bathroom, Danny removed all of Spike's puppy gear. The little eight-year-old actually looked strange without it. Spike then unlocked Danny's collar. They got the water nice and hot and stepped into the tub. Spike started off on his hands and knees. Danny stood up on his two feet for the first time in quite a few hours.

"You can stand up, right?" Danny said as he reached for the soap.

Spike nodded and slowly stood. It was the first time Danny had seen the boy standing on two legs. The little eight-year-old flashed a gap-toothed smile and the two boys proceeded to bathe, careful to get their bodies clean from head to toe.

Twenty minutes later, Spike was again on all fours and wearing his puppy gear. Danny was beside him, similarly attired. Ophelia took the boys' leashes and took them out for a morning stroll across the island.

Chris was awakened by the sound of his cage being unlocked.

"Come on out, boy." It was Lance's soft voice giving him the order.

Chris crawled out of the cage and stayed on all fours. He arched his back and rolled his shoulders. He was sore from spending the night folded up in the cage. His cock was painfully hard inside the chastity device and the vibrating plug had kept him horny and dripping all night. The boy had slept in fitful intervals, spending much of the night peeping through the iron bars of the cage, looking around the dimly lit room, hearing the two men snoring in the bed they shared.

"Sleep well?"

Chris looked up at the young man. "Sorta, I guess, sir," he replied with a big yawn.

"Stand up."

"Yes, sir."

Chris got to his feet, wincing from the stiffness in his arms and legs.

"You can stretch. Work out the kinks."

Lance watched with thoughtful eyes as the lithe naked thirteen-year-old twisted and turned and stretched his sore cramped muscles. Chris then stood there with his arms dangling at his sides, looking rather lost and unsure.

"Better?"

"Yes, sir, thanks," the boy replied.

Lance slowly, almost ritualistically, removed all of the boy's leather gear, including the harness, the cuffs, and the chains that bound his wrists and ankles. All that remained was his collar, and of course his chastity cage. The young man moved round behind the boy and gently rubbed his shoulders. He was nearly a foot taller than the young teenager.

"mmmm," Chris sighed. "That feels real nice, sir."

Lance wrapped the nude boy in his arms and slowly worked his hands over Christopher's chest and stomach, taking time to swirl his fingers over the boy's nipples and run them tenderly across the thirteen-year-old's taut hairless abdomen.

"Ohhh 3;" Chris felt his dick try to get even harder in the chastity cage. The spikes were digging in worse than ever, but somehow that only made his painfully constrained erection even stronger. Lance grazed his right hand over the chastity cage, feeling the impressive weight of the healthy teen-boy cock trapped inside it.

"nnnhhh 3;" Chris moaned. His dick ached from being confined by the cruel metal cage. He needed to jerk off so badly, but there was nothing he could about it.

Lance teased the boy like this for several minutes, squeezing the thirteen-year-old kid's nice big balls. Chris leaned back into him, and rested his head on the man's bare chest. He could feel Lance's erect cock pressed against his backside.

"You're really leaking, kid," Lance observed, running the tip of his index finger over the end of the boy's chastity device and coming away with a sticky line of pre-cum.

"I 3;I know 3;," Chris said in a low whisper. "It does that all the time now."

Lance again closed his hand around the boy's cock cage. "I don't have the key for this. Sorry. Bruce took it with him. He's having breakfast with Mr. Durand. He said I could play with you all I want this morning, but he doesn't want you cumming."

"That sucks," Chris pouted, looking down at the metal contraption that encased his boyhood. The need to shoot his load was becoming unbearable. Lance's teasing touches weren't helping.

"I know it does. I wore one just like that when I was kid." He kissed the boy on the back of the neck, just above the leather collar. "There are other ways to make you feel good besides touching your dick 3;I can make you cum in that thing. It's not really as good as a normal cum, but it's not bad either."

"It's not 3;it's not like when they milk me, is it?" the boy shuddered at the memory, and the knowledge that he'd be hooked up to that terrible machine again before too much longer.

Lance smiled. "A little, but it's a lot stronger. And little slave boys have to learn to take whatever pleasure they're given." He played with the boy's caged-up cock once again, causing another round of soft high-pitched whimpers to issue from the thirteen-year-old's throat. He guided Chris to the bed and laid him on his back. "Pull your legs up," he said. Chris obeyed, folding his legs up toward his chest and holding them there with his hands, exposing his most intimate parts to this man who was still a stranger for the most part. That is if you can call a person a stranger after you've had his cock in your mouth.

Lance slowly worked the plug out of the boy's butt. It was still vibrating when it finally slid out of the teen's recently well-fucked opening. "Has this been going all night?" Lance asked in sympathy.

Chris raised his eyes, bit his lower lip, and nodded sharply.

"Poor boy. You must be ready to burst."

Chris nodded again and managed an endearing smile. "My balls feel like they weigh a ton 3;"

Lance gripped them lightly in his hand, gently massaging the boy's healthy good-sized testicles. "Nice set you got there. They're really big for a boy so young."

Chris smiled again, pleased with the compliment. Things felt different with this man. He was still a little scared of Jason, and absolutely terrified of Bruce, but he didn't feel that way at all with Lance. In fact he sort of hoped Lance would have sex with him.

"You're gonna put it in me, right?"

In answer, Lance quickly stripped off his silk boxers. A young man just out of his teens, he had a lean muscular frame, and, just like thirteen-year-old Chris, his body was basically hairless. Bruce, still legally his master, allowed him to keep a small well-trimmed patch of pubic hair above his cock, which was currently erect, not much longer than the one young Christopher possessed, but considerably thicker.

Chris was expecting Lance to enter him right away, and he clenched his eyes closed tightly in anticipation of that first searing pain as the man's penis forced its way in. Instead, the boy felt the cool and relaxing sensation of lotion being applied to his sore hole. He opened his eyes and saw Lance slowly sliding his finger into him and then out again, swirling it gently around in a lazy circle. Lance added a second finger and Chris cooed in pleasure. The boy's dick was as hard as it could possibly be within the restrictive confines of its chastity cage.

"Bruce likes to make his boys bleed," Lance said quietly, remembering back to when he was eleven years old, his little cock locked away in a small metal cage, screaming and crying as his new master brutally fucked him that very first night. That was almost ten years ago now, but Lance had never forgotten what it felt like to be used like a piece of furniture. "I'm not like that. I am going to enjoy myself in your tight little ass, and there's nothing you can do about that, but its ok with me if you have some fun too."

Chris smiled dreamily, already tingling from head to toe as Lance continued to work his fingers in and out of his boyhole. "Will I cum?"

"Probably," Lance replied, withdrawing his finger and moving himself into position.

Chris felt the tip of the young man's hard cock briefly press against his opening.

"Relax, Chris," Lance told him, breaking the rules by using the boy's name. "Just relax and let me in."

Chris laid his head back on the pillow and did as he was told. With only the slightest tinge of pain, Lance's cock slid up inside him, all the way, in a single thrust, hitting his adolescent prostate in just the right way.

"Ohhhh, wow! Oooo 3;" Chris moaned.

"Good boy," Lance encouraged him.

"Fuck me, sir, please, " the boy whispered, "make me cum. I need it so bad 3;"

"I know you do. Be still now. Be quiet." Lance leaned in, and began a slow steady rhythm of strong yet gentle thrusts into the boy's tight little hole.

Chris squealed and whimpered and moaned and soon the inexperienced boy was learning to relax his muscles in time with the man's thrusts, drawing Lance's cock even deeper inside him. Every few minutes, Lance would wrap his hand around the boy's metal cock-cage and jiggle it up and down. Locked inside the chastity device, Chris' penis would strain violently and large amounts of pre-cum would ooze out of him.

"Oh, yeah 3;" the young boy gasped.

Lance smiled knowingly and continued pleasuring himself inside the boy's tight, warm young hole.

After a slow methodical, gentle twenty minutes, Chris was writhing and shaking, desperate to cum, desperate to feel more of Lance's cock in his butt.

"How close are you?" Lance asked the boy, once again jiggling his chastity device. The boy's cock was hard, curved under itself inside the constricting metal cage. It looked extremely painful, and Lance knew from experience that it was. He also knew from experience that the boy was hopelessly aroused at this point.

"Close 3;" Chris whispered, barely coherent. "Gonna cum so hard 3;"

Lance sped up his thrusts. Young man and young teen were now grunting in perfect harmony. Nature took its course a few seconds later. Lance ejaculated with a load groan of pleasure, filling the young boy with his seed. Chris gasped in surprise as the feeling struck him, his muscles clenched, he shouted in a high crackling voice and had the strangest orgasm he'd ever experienced in his short life. With his desperately swollen penis trapped inside the small chastity cage, there was no room inside for him to have a normal ejaculation, but he was having an orgasm nonetheless. It felt better than good. It felt amazing. He shouted again and stared dumbfounded down at his caged-up cock. His boyish sticky white fluid was pouring out of the tip of his dick. Each shudder of his body, each clenching of his muscles caused more of his boyseed to surge out of him.

"Oh, god 3;ooohhh 3;" he thrashed his head around on the pillow. The boy's orgasm lasted for almost thirty seconds, certainly a record for this particular thirteen-year-old. When he finally came down, he opened his eyes and saw Lance gazing down at him with a contented and very amused smile on his face. Watching the young teenaged boy in the throes of orgasm was a great delight.

Young Chris sat up on his elbows. Between his legs he could feel the gooey wetness from where he'd spilled his seed onto the mattress.

"That was totally wild!" Chris exclaimed.

"Yes it was. You were so adorable." Lance ran his hands playfully over the boy's smooth thighs, careful now to avoid any further contact with the thirteen-year-old's imprisoned genitals. "Run to the bathroom and bring back something to clean up your mess. Wipe your spunk off your legs while you're in there. I'm going to order some breakfast for myself."

"Yes, sir," Chris replied, quickly leaving the bed and hurrying to the bathroom, globs of his own sperm running down the insides of his gorgeous silken-smooth thighs.

It was mid-morning on Gladiator Island. The sun was hot, the air was sweltering. In the black room, the clock once again read 00:00:00. The door to the room was open. From inside the sound of rattling chains could be heard. Josh Andrew's additional twelve hours of punishment had come to an end a few minutes earlier. The eleven-year-old boy was rolled out on a gurney, restrained with thick leather straps around his wrists, ankles, thighs and chest. He was naked. The leather hood had been removed and he had been stripped out of the latex body suit. The boy's oversized penis had been freed of the cock and ball harness and was now laying soft and flaccid over his balls. The catheter had been re-inserted once the suit was taken off, the drainage tube attached to a plastic bag swinging from the side of the gurney.

A soft cloth blindfold had been placed over his eyes, to protect him from the bright outdoor sunlight. Josh was mumbling softly to himself and struggling vainly and weakly against the straps that held him to the gurney. With his bare skin finally freed of the tight latex, he was shivering, even in the tropical heat. Still blinded he did not know where they were taking him or what was happening, only that he was out of the suit and out of that horrible room. Suddenly he felt a breeze on his skin and knew he was outside. He could hear birds and insects and the constant distant sounds of the ocean.

Doctor Trench and two of the guards wheeled the naked boy to the infirmary. As they took him inside he started shaking his head slowly.

"Wanna 3;go 3;home 3;wanna 3;go 3;home 3;"

A needle found a vein in his left arm a moment later and the boy lost consciousness.

When Josh woke up several hours later he found himself on a small boy-sized bed in the medical suite. He was held down by padded medical restraints around his wrists and ankles. There were IV's in both arms, hooked to poles on either side of the bed. He looked around the room for a moment, his eyes still sensitive to the light. He could tell he wasn't naked. There was something soft around his waist, covering his butt and his penis and testicles. It was definitely not his chastity belt. He raised his head and gazed down the length of his body.

'Oh, no!'

He was wearing a diaper. They'd put him in a diaper. It was white, with blue and pink cartoon bunnies on it. Josh tried to get his hands free to rip it off, but his struggles were useless and the little bunnies just stared back at him mockingly.

"Well, I see you're awake." It was Karin, the oldest of Allison Trench's assistants. "What's wrong?"

Josh's addled brain could still think of about a hundred things that were wrong with his life right now, but first and foremost was that cloth diaper and those silly rabbits.

"I'm not a baby," he protested meekly. He wanted to sound tough and angry, but somehow he just sounded little and scared and, well, like a baby.

"No one said you were, but you're staying like that until tomorrow morning at least, unless you want us to put the tube back in your dick."

Josh shook his head. "But I only have to wear this today?"

"That's up to your trainer. She told me she thinks you look cute this way. She's thinking about keeping you diapered for a few weeks, even during the competitions."

"Oh, no 3;" the eleven-year-old whined.

"Now hush." Karin held up a blue pacifier and forced it into the boy's mouth. Josh glared at her with tired, exhausted eyes, ringed in dark circles. "Don't you dare spit that out, little boy." She ran her hand gently over the soft absorbent padding that covered the pre-teen's genitals. "Karin knows how to make baby boys feel good." She continued rubbing.

Josh felt his penis stiffen inside the diaper, the soft material constraining it just tightly enough to keep it pinned against his groin. After just a few minutes of this treatment the diapered eleven-year-old was panting and gasping. He did spit out his pacifier as his mouth gaped open.

"Ah 3;aaahhh 3;that's really awesome, miss." The boy cooed and curled his toes. His muscles tightened and he shivered as he had his orgasm. Karin remained by his side for another twenty minutes and gave the boy three more dry cums before she left him alone.

"Don't you tell anyone," she warned him sternly. She pushed the pacifier between his teeth again and ran her fingers over the boy's bare chest. She patted the obvious large bulge at the front of Josh's diaper and laughed softly at how easily she had the well-endowed little boy in her power. "Now go to sleep."

Josh had no problem following that order. The last thing he saw as he lay his head back were those stupid long-eared cartoon bunnies looking back at him with their big cartoon eyes and pink cartoon noses.

NEXT PART