Worldwide Boy Gladiators Part 11

Worldwide Boy Gladiators Part 11
By istari

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This story contains scenes depicting sexual acts and various other extreme humiliations involving minor males. This story is intended for adult audiences only, and is a work of complete and total fiction. If you should not be reading things like this, then don't.

Comments are welcome and can be directed to
[email protected]
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Chapter 23:

It was early in the evening and the boys had all been returned to the barracks to be fed. After the morning session, which was broadcast live, the gladiators had continued competing against each other in a variety of traditional track and field events. There was nothing particularly out of the ordinary about the games themselves, simply the fact that the young competitors were all nude and occasionally bound in unusual or painful ways. Among the most popular events was the three-legged race. The boys were paired up based on height and their left legs tied to their partners' right legs at their ankles, their knees and finally with a thick leather strap across their thighs. The stands around the hippodrome track were packed for this one, which promised to be both humorous and arduous for the young athletes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At that moment a loud cheer went up from the crowd.

"That's the signal, boys. Move out!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ok, now run as hard as you can!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ready, Gabe?" he shouted over the rising noise of the excited crowd.

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

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

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

"Shit!" shouted the eleven-year-old. "You gotta go faster, Dave!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A chorus of moans rose from the ten boys.

"On your feet."

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

The gate to the barracks was buzzed open by the guard on duty and the boys were marched through. Once inside the building they were unchained and assembled in front of the scoreboard. Saturday night marked the official end of scorekeeping for the two weeks the boys had been on the island, so the totals glowing on the board were final. Starting tomorrow morning, the boys scores would be reset to zero in the weekly column and a new monthly column would appear on the board as well.

In first place was Daniel O'Hanlon. He had received virtually no demerits and had done well enough in the competitions to make him the winner. Second went to Illya Casparev whose overall performance in the day's competitions had raised his score substantially. Last, predictably, was poor Josh. He'd done quite well in the events, but his smart mouth and continued problem with unauthorized erections had earned him so many demerits that all the first place finishes in the world would not have helped him. He stood there with a glum expression on his face as the other boys congratulated Danny and Illya.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Just a dream," he whispered to himself. "Just a dream..."

Chapter 24:

The boys were allowed to sleep a little later than usual the next morning, but once they were awakened and released from their cells, everything proceeded under the normal routine. The boys were showered and feed and marched out to the training center to work out on the weight machines. They spent most of the day there, cycling through all the apparatus. Chris and Miles were taken out to the pool to continue the young ten-year-old's lessons. Miles' trainer Alex was there to supervise them, using the opportunity to lounge by the waterside sunning himself. Miles was starting to make progress. He was no longer afraid to put his head under and he was beginning to learn some basic strokes. Chris turned out to be a really good teacher and actually enjoyed himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Spin the wheel, Zero-Two," Jason ordered.

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

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

The trainers all agreed it was a valid spin.

"Read your punishment, Zero-Two," Hannah said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Stand up," she told him. "You're going to hold that for fifteen minutes."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's called the black room, boys. You will learn to fear it."

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

On the screen, the nine boys in the barracks watched as Josh's ordeal began.

First came the hood.

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

"Keep still! Don't move again unless we tell you to."

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

A harsh smack to his naked behind warned him to keep quiet.

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

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

'Boy Zero-Two,' a cold voice filled his ears. The hood had a small pair of headphones next to the boy's ears that allowed the trainers to communicate with him and give him orders if they needed to. 'You will take a deep breath through your nose. You will do it now.'

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

'Isolation-Deprivation punishment,' the voice droned on. 'You will be kept in this room. You will not be able to see. You will not be able to hear. You will not be able to speak. You will not be able to eat. You will not be able to drink. You will not be able to sit down. Your movement will be restricted. You will have no contact with any other human being. You will be totally alone...' the message repeated itself several times before it stopped. Josh was beyond terror at this point, so scared that he couldn't even manage to panic. He simply stood there, shocked and frightened and hoping this would all be over soon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chris raised his hand urgently.

"This is not a question and answer session, Zero-Seven. Put your hand down."

"But, sir, please..."

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

Chris looked like he was about to argue.

"Would you like to make it four hours?"

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

"Now, you have one hour of free time before bed. The television stays on."

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

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

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

To be continued...