Worldwide Boy Gladiators Part 14

Worldwide Boy Gladiators Part 14
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 29:

Twelve-year-old Danny O'Hanlon woke up to bright sunlight streaming through the open door. Spike's nude body was nestled close to him. The two boys had slept on the floor at the foot of Ophelia Winstrom's bed, their leashes wrapped loosely around the bedpost. Sometime during the night, Danny had draped his arm over the younger boy as they lay curled together and that is how he found himself when he blinked his eyes open. The younger boy's body was warm and small, his skin smooth and soft. Danny had only just met him, but he felt strangely protective of the little boy. He ran his hand gently over Spike's shoulder and took a deep breath. Sleeping naked with another boy was something he'd never done before in his twelve years, and he had to admit it felt kind of nice. His penis was soft, even though it had been pressed against Spike's bottom for most of the night. Danny yawned and stretched his legs out. Spike was sleeping soundly, still wearing his leather collar and his puppy-dog mitts, his little cock permanently locked down between his legs.

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...," 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..." 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..." 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...I know...," 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...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...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..."

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 . . ." Chris moaned.

"Good boy," Lance encouraged him.

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

"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..." 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 . . ." Chris whispered, barely coherent. "Gonna cum so hard..."

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...ooohhh . . ." 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...go...home...wanna...go...home..."

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 . . ." 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...aaahhh...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.

Chapter 30:

Young Trevor had just escorted Bruce to the front door, when Lara Tomlinsin appeared on the veranda, dressed in light pastel colors befitting the tropical climate. As always, Trevor felt himself blushing as he stood in front of her. He was wearing only a skimpy white thong.

"Good morning, Trevor," Lara said, well aware of the effect she had on this boy. "Is the boss home?"

"Master is finishing his tea, miss," the fourteen-year-old said shyly. "I'll tell him you're here, ok. You can wait inside, if you like."

"Whatever won't get you into trouble, dear boy," the young woman said, stepping into the marble-tiled foyer.

Trevor flashed a wide grin, pleased that the lady was so kind to him. He hurried off on his slender legs, providing Lara with an excellent view of his adorable bare butt. The young teen was back a few minutes later. "If you'll follow me, miss," he said with a regal bow.

Lara found herself once more in William Durand's study, overlooking the beach and the clear blue Caribbean.

"How are you enjoying your stay, my dear?" the chief of XB1 asked, still sipping at his morning tea. Trevor stood nearby with the teapot at the ready.

"Everything is working out fabulously, Bill."

After several minutes of polite small talk, Lara got down to business. "I'm here because I need a green light from you for the next phase in the development of WBG."

"By all means. What do you have in mind?"

"Well, boss, it occurs to me, and hopefully to you too, that our two oldest boys are going to age out of their indentures in approximately eighteen months. We should begin recruiting replacements now, so we don't suddenly find ourselves short a boy, or two. I've already taken the liberty of having our recruitment department do some preliminary scouting, as well as post an on-line application for boys and their parents on the WBG website. I suggest to you that once we find two suitable boys, we sign them to pre-indenture contracts immediately."

"Pre-indenture?" Durand asked. "You're making that up, right?"

Lara smiled and took a fresh cup of tea from Trevor. "I'm not surprised you haven't heard of it, sir. It's not legal yet in the United States, but most of the other civilized nations have incorporated some provision for it into their juvenile male slave laws. The ICSC in Geneva fully supports the concept."

"Explain it to me."

'Well, sir, it is very simple. The boy and his family make a binding, non-negotiable commitment to our standard indenture contract, to be fully enacted once an open slot on the island becomes available. Pre-indentures can be signed and legally ratified up to five years before the actual indenture takes place."

"So we would own the rights to the new boys without actually having to pay out any money for them up front."

"Precisely. And the pre-indenture contract also gives us specific and limited authority over the boys from the moment they sign. That way we can ensure that they remain in top shape and begin some very basic training while they still live at home with their parents. It costs us nothing, and we'll have well trained boys that can be put to use right away, once they reach the island."

"This is an excellent idea. Why isn't this legal in the States?"

"Legislation is pending right now, sir," Lara informed him. "I'm sure a man of your influence could help assure its successful passage."

"I'll make some calls this afternoon. In the mean time, go ahead and tell the recruitment teams to find me two boys and sign them to pre-indentures as soon as possible. Oh, and Lara...it occurs to me that our current line-up is rather monochromatic, if you get my drift. Have them focus their attention on some other parts of the world. I don't want boys who are too dark, mind you, but a little color would look good out there."

Lara Tomlinsin made a quick note of it, then lingered for one of Trevor's legendary mint juleps.

"Trained him myself," Durand said proudly as the scantily-clad slave boy presented them with their drinks. "He's got quite a knack for it."

'I'm sure you've trained him to do all sorts of things, you sly old bastard,' Lara thought to herself. She had to admit though, the julep was exceptional.

Over in the training facility, Nathaniel Hilthorpe surveyed the newly finished school room. He was impressed at the speed with which the corporation's facilities management staff had fulfilled all his requests and requirements. The once vacant room now had two large chalk-boards, three computer stations, Hilthorpe's large wooden desk and ten small metal desks for the boy gladiators. The boys' desks were bolted to the floor, as were their chairs, made of aluminum and each with built-in ankle restraints to ensure that the boys remained in their assigned seats. The chairs also sported thick aluminum pegs that would be impaled in the boys' butts once they sat down. The pegs increased in size for each boy, the smallest one meant for little Miles, the larger ones, with rather nasty spikes on them, specially selected for David, Philippe, Illya and Chris. On the wall behind Hilthorpe's desk were the implements of discipline that had given him proven results over the years. Crops, strops, and a heavy brown wooden paddle. The boys would all come to know them very well once their schooling resumed.

Nathaniel checked the gladiators' current schedule. His first interviews with the boys would be starting shortly. He would be seeing them one at a time, giving them a variety of pre-tests to determine their current level of achievement, and hopefully introducing more than a few of them to his instruments of discipline. Several of the boys were currently unavailable, but with ten to choose from, he could afford to be patient and take whatever boy was not currently busy in some other area. He had no illusions. Education was going to be a relatively low priority on Gladiator Island, but the money they'd offered him, and the chance to work directly with the boy gladiators more than made up for any perceived slights to his profession. He picked up his portable radio and contacted the control room.

"I believe boy Zero-One is free at the moment. Please send him to the classroom at his trainer's earliest convenience."

Five minutes later, a hot and sweaty Miles Harris was delivered by his trainer, fresh from an intense workout in the nearby weight room.

"I won't keep him long, Alex," Hilthorpe said pleasantly. He'd made it a point to learn the names of all the trainers as quickly as possible. The boys, of course, were merely numbers, and he had no particular interest in what their names had been before they became indentured slaves.

The elder trainer smiled and pushed the little boy forward, giving him a pre-emptive smack to the back of the head. "You behave yourself, little man," he said, then turned his attention back to Nathaniel. "Here are his keys, if you wish to remove his chains or his chastity belt."

The young teacher took the ring of silver keys, each marked with Miles' number, and set them on his desk.

"He's scheduled for a milking session at 1300 hours...not that he has anything to milk."

"I'm sure we'll be finished our business long before that, won't we, boy?"

Miles shrugged innocently, not sure exactly what business he had with this stranger. "Um, I guess, sir."

Alex Wright departed, leaving his young charge in the care of the teacher. "Step in front of my desk boy," Hilthorpe said. Miles quickly obeyed and shuffled over, his chains rattling on the concrete floor. Hilthorpe sat down and called up the boy's file on the computer.

"Were you a good student before you became a slave?" he asked, staring at the collared and chastity-belted ten-year-old with a critical eye.

"Um, ok, I guess, sir."

"I assume you can read and write."

"Yes, sir," Miles said, curling his toes nervously.

"You are ten years old, is that right?"

"Yes, sir," the little boy said, standing up as tall as he could.

Hilthorpe paused for a moment and glanced over the statistics in the boy's file. Essentially every piece of information ever recorded on young Miles Harris was available at his finger tips. He raised his eyes to the boy once more. "Recite your nine-times table for me, please."

Miles stared at him not quite sure what he meant. After almost four weeks of training and being naked and competing and all that, thinking about school was a rather abrupt change for the boy.

"I don't understand, sir . . ."

"Your multiplication tables, silly boy. You do know how to multiply numbers, don't you?"

"Oh," Miles replied, breathing a huge sigh of relief. "Ok. One times nine is nine. Two times nine is . . ."

"Stop," the teacher interrupted him. "When you are reciting in this classroom, you are to put your hands behind your back and stand at attention. Face forward. Eyes forward. Chin up. Speak clearly and don't mumble."

"Yes, sir, sorry, sir."

"Now start again."

Miles' quickly adopted the required posture and began again, his high pre-pubescent voice echoing in the silent classroom. "One times nine is nine. Two times nine is eighteen. Three times nine is twenty-seven . . ." He did fine until nine times eight, which he said was ninety-eight. Hilthorpe stopped him there.

"Are you sure that's the right answer, Zero-One?"

A sudden look of fear filled the ten-year-old's eyes. "Yes, sir. I'm sure, sir."

Hilthorpe stood up and walked around his desk. He towered over the barely four-foot-tall boy. "You are incorrect. Go over to the punishment bench."

Miles' dark eyes welled with tears. He followed the teacher's gesture and marched over to a wooden bench that looked more like a saw-horse than anything else. The boy stood nervously in front of it.

"Bend over."

Miles bent at the waist, and grabbed hold of the legs of the bench. In this position his cute little behind was perfectly positioned for a good striping. Hilthorpe selected the smallest and thinnest cane from the wall.

"Have you ever been given the cane before, young man?"

"Nnn...nnooo, sir."

"I'm going to go easy on you today. Three strokes. You will count them for me."

Hilthorpe wasted no further time and quickly and efficiently administered the three cuts with the little cane. Miles howled and shrieked and bucked against the wooden bench, but he did manage to count each one aloud for his teacher. A very teary-eyed ten-year-old was told to stand up a few moments later.

"I have a test for you, to see how much you already know and how much you need to learn." He took the keys from the desk and unlocked the ass-strap on the little boy's chastity belt so that he could remove the butt-plug. Miles grunted and moaned as the metal invader slid out of him.

"Which hand to do you write with?"

"My left, sir."

Hilthorpe took the boy's right hand and put the butt-plug in it. "Hold that. Go sit at your desk."

Miles looked at the double row of desks and found number one. It took him exactly three seconds to see the large aluminum peg attached to his chair. He looked up at his new teacher with a quivering lip.

"I...I don't wanna sit on that, sir."

"Wanna? You do not use lazy English in my classroom, boy. You will speak properly. Now sit down and get started on your test."

Miles sniffled and squatted down over the chair, using the strength in his legs to keep himself off the peg. He could feel it pressing against his little hole as he picked up the pencil with his left hand and looked down at the single page test. He still clutched his butt-plug with his right.

"You have fifteen minutes to finish."

By the time the fifteen minutes had elapsed, Miles had slid down all the way onto the aluminum peg and was writhing and squirming in his place. His little cocklet had made several futile attempts to erect itself inside the tight confines of the chastity belt. Somehow, despite all the distractions, the plucky ten-year-old had managed to finish his test. That's not to say he did particularly well. Hilthorpe shook his head as he marked the many wrong answers in red and handed the paper back to the nervous trembling boy.

"You passed. Just barely. We have a lot of work to do. Just because you're going to be rich when you leave here doesn't give you the right to be stupid."

Miles did not think of himself as being stupid at all. He didn't really like school, but he went and did his best. Some of those questions were really hard, things he didn't think even most of the older boys would have known.

"Do you have something to say to me, boy?" Hilthorpe asked, reading the look on the boy's face.

Miles quickly lowered his eyes to his desk. "No, sir. I did my best, sir..."

Hilthorpe tussled the boy's short-cropped hair. "I know that. It is my job to make you do better. You have a trainer for your body, right?"

"Right, sir."

"Well, think of me as a trainer for your mind."

Miles cracked a shy smile. That made sense to him. Sort of.

"Stand up."

Slowly, wincing and groaning and whining, the little ten-year-old lifted himself off the not-so-little peg and resumed his 'at attention' position beside his desk. His butt-plug was still clenched tightly in his right hand. Hilthorpe pointed to it.

"Do you know how to put that back in?"

"I...I guess so...sir . . ."

"Then do it."

It took the little boy a few seconds to decide how this task was best accomplished. Finally he got down on all fours, spread his legs wide apart and worked the plug back into his butt, all the while with a determined grimace on his cute round face. He was beet-red with embarrassment, having to shove that thing up his own behind while his teacher watched him.

"Good boy," Hilthorpe said when Miles again got to his feet. The boy absent-mindedly ran his hand over the metal plate that encased his genitals. Hilthorpe chose to ignore the lad's indiscretion. He reached into his desk, produced a piece of chocolate candy and tossed it to the boy. Miles took it eagerly, tore the wrapper off and popped the whole thing into his mouth.

"Don't tell anyone, boy," the teacher warned him with a gentle smile. "That's our secret."

With his mouth full of sweet wonderful chocolate, Miles simply grinned and nodded. Alex returned for him a few minutes later, attached a chain to the boy's collar and led him off to the medical suite for his latest appointment with the dreaded milking machine.

Lance's breakfast had been delivered by Mule 1674 in much the same manner as the boy had delivered dinner the night before. The not-quite thirteen-year-old stood obediently by the door, his arms limp at his sides, his face cast down toward the floor. As always when he was on duty, he was wearing the short gray slave smock that identified him as little more than a subhuman laborer. Chris, who was happy to be eating a piece of toast with orange marmalade and a single pancake of his very own (thanks to Lance's kindness) kept looking over at the boy. He knew that some boys were real slaves, slaves for life that is, and he wondered what this one had done to deserve such a terrible life. Was he a criminal? Chris was well aware that lots of boys who committed even small crimes were sentenced to slavery. In school and at home he'd been given that sort of warning since he was six. Maybe his parents were poor. That's what happened to Timmy Wildesin last year.

The Wildesins lived a few houses down and Timmy and Chris were almost exactly the same age. Timmy had a way of getting himself into trouble and dragging Chris along with him, but they remained friends right up until the day the state's slave control unit arrived in the white van and took Timmy away. The hardest thing was, Timmy knew he'd been sold weeks before they actually took him. In fact the whole neighborhood knew, including Chris and Josh. Chris remembered watching from the front yard when the day finally came. Timmy was marched out of his house stark naked, his twelve-year-old cock, considerably smaller than Christopher's swinging back and forth for everyone to see. They already had an iron collar around Timmy's neck, and his wrists and ankles were chained.

Chris felt sad and angry, but he also became aware that his penis was really, really hard in his shorts. After the van had pulled away, taking Timmy off to his new life as a slave, Chris ran upstairs, shucked down his soccer shorts and jerked himself off until he had a hard, satisfying cum. He never found out what happened to Timmy. There were rumors in school that he'd ended up being a sex slave. At twelve, Chris had a rather nebulous idea what that meant. Now, of course, the young gladiator was indeed quite familiar with the concept.

"You shouldn't keep looking at him," Lance said, quietly sipping his coffee.

"Why not, sir?" Chris asked, turning his eyes away from the other boy.

"Mules aren't human anymore, so you should really just ignore them."

The naked boy sat up a little straighter from his place on the floor. "Well, I'm not a human being right now either, am I? But people look at me...hell they don't ever stop looking at me...you look at me...Bruce looks at me...Jason looks at me...I know what's going on...I mean, about the sex and stuff..."

Lance smiled and handed him a small glass of juice. "Things are a little different for you. You're indentured for a start. That means you'll be free...some day. So you're sort of in a different class from that one," he pointed to Mule 1674.

"I just don't think its fair, that's all. What did he do wrong to end up like that?"

"I don't know, Chris," Lance said, once again using the boy's real name. "It isn't any of my business, or yours. There's nothing anyone can do about it now anyway. He is what he is, and you are who you are and that's that. Now finish eating."

Chris returned his attention to his plate. "That pod thing he's wearing over his dick and balls...it looks way too small...I'd never fit inside that..."

"Be glad you don't have to. And believe me, you don't want to know what they've done to him down there."

Chris was carrying Lance's breakfast plate back to the waiting mule, when Bruce returned from a very productive meeting with William Durand. Mule 1674 quickly departed, carrying the empty plate in his hands. The remains of breakfast smelled so good to him, but he did not dare stop to help himself to even so much as a meager crumb.

"So," Bruce said, gazing over at the two younger males, both of whom were technically slaves, "did he behave himself, Lance?"

"He's the perfect little slave," the young man replied, giving Chris a quick wink. They had both agreed that the boy's forbidden orgasm would remain a secret just between them. Bruce stared at them for a moment, quite certain they were keeping something from him.

"The cart's waiting outside. Get that boy back in his leather, don't bother with the chains. And plug his little holes. Let's go."

Lance quickly followed Bruce's orders. Moments later Chris found himself once again wearing the leather harness and the matching collar and cuffs. His butt and his piss-slit once again had plugs in them. "You look so hot in leather," the young man whispered in the boy's ear.

"Thanks," Chris whispered back. He did like the way he felt. And he was beginning to understand the effect he seemed to have on older guys and men. He blew a little private kiss at Lance, who smiled and promptly smacked him on the ass.

"Don't be a tease, boy," Lance advised him. He then led Chris outside on the leash. The thirteen-year-old's heart started to race when he saw what was waiting for him. It was a larger version of the chariot, with all the same reins, chains and restraints he had grown so familiar with so quickly. This one however had four wheels, and was considerably more luxurious, with dark richly stained wood trim and padded seats for the passengers. Chris stared at it with worried eyes. It looked really heavy. And he would have two grown men riding on it behind him, rather than one light-weight twelve-year-old boy. With a downcast expression on his sweet face, he positioned himself in front of the cart. Bruce and Lance worked leisurely to get the chains attached to the boy's harness. Chris noticed the cart didn't have the guide-poles that the chariots had. He would not have anything to hold on to as he pulled the four-wheeler forward. In fact, he quickly discovered he wouldn't have the use of his arms at all. Bruce brought a leather lace-up bondage sleeve from the cart and quickly bound the thirteen-year-old boy's arms behind his back. An additional chain was connected to the ring at the end of the bondage sleeve to the front of the cart. Chris was immediately afraid that he wouldn't be able to keep his balance, but he didn't have time to protest as the boy-shaped bridle and bit were strapped tightly around his head. The last of the chains were attached, and then the reins.

"You're going to take us around the island today, boy," Bruce said, as he and Lance climbed up onto the comfortable passenger seats. Lance took the reins. Bruce held a large, long whip in his hand. He swung it sharply, and hard, against Christopher's bare shoulders, instantly leaving a painful red welt. "Start trotting."

Trotting was a little more than the one-hundred-and-five pound boy could manage with all that weight behind him. The cart's four wheels did make it a lot more stable, but it still was hard work just getting the thing moving. With his arms bound-up behind him, the boy had to bend over to get leverage. His handsome young thighs were already straining to bear the load. Bruce continued to whip him until he was up to a good walking pace. Lance was considerably more gentle with the reins than his partner was with the flogger. Soon Chris was pulling the cart along the dirt roads of the island. He took them past the production facilities, the main arena, and the boys' barracks, where he saw Illya, David and little Ian doing push-ups under the watchful eyes of their trainers.

"Hey, there's Chris!," Ian said, spotting the pony-boy as he approached with his two passengers. "Hi, Chris. Lookin' good, mate!"

"No talking, Zero-Three," Anthony corrected him with a jolt from his electric prod. "All three of you can give us fifty more push-ups."

Chris struggled on, leaving the barracks behind, hearing Illya and David moan and curse at Ian for getting them into trouble. For over an hour he pulled the cart across the island, receiving several more lashes from the whip whenever he slowed down or missed a step. Finally they ended up on the rocky, heavily forested west shore of the island. Here there was no beach, only steep shear drops down into the sea below. The view however was spectacular. Lance pulled back on the reins, and a sweaty and exhausted Chris trudged to a halt. They left him chained to the cart while they set up blankets and chairs overlooking the Caribbean. Chris was released and freed of the bondage sleeve so he could carry the heavy wooden box that contained all the picnic food and supplies. They'd packed a portable grill too, which he had to go back for. Last were the two wine bottles, which he was admonished not to drop under any circumstances.

Lance set up the grill and started the cooking. Bruce lounged in one of the chairs while Chris, on his knees, obediently shuffled himself between the man's legs and sucked his penis, with the tropical sun burning down upon his bare back. After two weeks of running around naked on the island, Chris' smooth hairless skin had already started to turn a nice golden brown. Bruce gazed down at the boy's back, then studied the tattoo on that had been put on Chris' flank.

"Clever, don't you think, Lance," he asked, pointing at the dark permanent inking that Anthony had given the boy. "They've got these boys numbered like cattle. And did you see the advertisements they've put on them?"

Lance nodded. During their tour around the island this morning, he'd noticed that most of the boys were sporting some form of corporate advertising on their backs. He found young Ian's to be particularly amusing, since the eleven-year-old Australian was painted with the logo of one of the leading manufacturers of chastity devices for slave boys, the same one he in fact was wearing. Lance had to admit it was a brilliant idea, using the boys' bodies as walking billboards like that. He wondered what product would eventually be splashed upon Christopher's back. "I'm just glad those things aren't permanent."

"No, the only permanent marking is the tattoo on his butt. 'Boy 07'. He'll have that for the rest of his life, unless he gets it removed after he's freed. What do you say, Zero-Seven, are you going to keep it?"

Chris pulled off of Bruce's rigid leaking cock just long enough to shrug his shoulders. He'd never really thought about it. Actually he'd sort of forgotten that his gladiator number was tattooed on his flank. He could only see it if he craned his neck back, but it was plainly visible to everyone watching in the stands and on television. "Don't know, sir...Guess I have a few years to decide..."

"Good answer. Now wrap those sweet lips around my cock again..."

Chris immediately slurped the man's cock into his mouth again. Bruce moaned in delight. Chris had proven to be a quick learner. He let out a soft boyish moan. Bruce was using his foot to toy with the chastity device and the perpetually frustrated boy-cock locked inside it. Chris really didn't understand why being on his knees with a man's big hard dick in his mouth made him so horny, he just knew that it did. He took more of Bruce's manhood into his throat, all the while feeling his own penis straining within its metal cage. He whined as the spikes dug into his tender flesh. His left hand instinctively went to his groin. Bruce firmly kicked it away with his foot.

"None of that. The only cock that matters is the one in your mouth."

"Mmmmph," Chris nodded with moist eyes and a mouthful of dick.

Lance looked over from the grill, admiring the young teenager's lean and perfectly proportioned body, and remembering a time, not too many years ago, when he was the naked boy between Bruce's legs. Was that actually a little pang of jealously he felt? Maybe just a little.

Meanwhile, in the medical suite, Josh had again opened his eyes after a long nap. As he looked around the room, he saw Miles was on one of the exam tables on his hands and knees, hooked to the milking machine. The youngest gladiator was squirming and squealing and having one dry orgasm after another forced from his little body. Doctor Trench herself was supervising the little boy's latest session. Josh laid his head back on the pillow and looked up at the ceiling. It was actually rather cool here, and he shivered as he lay flat on the mattress without a sheet or blanket. He was still restrained, with padded medical cuffs around his wrists and ankles. He was also still in the diaper. He could feel the soft material around his penis and testicles, he could feel it covering his butt, which, at the moment, did not have a plug in it. He didn't remember them taking it out. They must have done it when they took him out of the black room. He was glad it was gone. He didn't really like that funny feeling it gave him deep inside.

As he lay there day-dreaming, he came to the realization that he really needed to pee, but he didn't want to do it. Not in the diaper.

'They can make me wear this stupid thing,' he thought to himself, 'but they can't make me pee in it.'

His eleven-year-old resolve quickly began to fade when his eleven-year-old bladder began to insist that something be done to relieve the ever-growing pressure. Josh struggled against the restraints for a few seconds, then he lay still again.

'Ok. Ok, maybe I'll do it just this once...'

Much to the boy's own surprise, peeing in the diaper proved exceedingly difficult. His body didn't want to cooperate, even as the need to go became more and more urgent.

'Come on, come on...' he closed his eyes and finally managed to start peeing.

Josh was screaming in agony less than a second later. After thirty-six hours with a catheter in his dick, his urethra was very sensitive and very sore, and the first few squirts of piss burned him like fire. "Ow! Owww! Oh, man, that kills! Oh, geeeeez...aaaaah!"

Now that he'd started peeing, he couldn't stop. He continued to shout and cry as he filled the diaper with his warm urine. Anna came over to him and took hold of his hand.

"It's going to hurt like that for a day at least," she said with the closest thing to sympathy Josh had heard in quite a while. "Just keep going. Tell me when you're finished."

With tears in his eyes, Josh nodded and tried to pee a little more slowly, holding back his stream as best he could so it wouldn't hurt so bad. That strategy didn't really do much more than prolong his agony. Finally it came down to a weak trickle and the eleven-year-old breathed a huge sigh of relief. The tip of his dick still burned.

"I'm done, miss," he said softly. The feeling of the full, wet, warm diaper...filled with his own piss...was not as unpleasant as he'd first feared it would be. In fact, the boy found it rather nice. His penis responded accordingly with a nice hard boner.

"Everything come out alright?" Anna asked, gently laying her hand on the boy's taut stomach.

"Yes, miss."

"Good boy. I have to help the doctor with Zero-One. I'll be back later to change you. Get some rest."

Josh couldn't believe she was just going to leave him strapped to the bed with a wet diaper around his middle, but that is exactly what she did. Josh lifted his head and watched her return to Miles on the milking machine. He looked down the length of his body, past his tight lean torso and once again glared at those stupid cartoon bunnies on the diaper.

'What are you laughing at?' he asked them angrily. Then with a colossal yawn he fell back to sleep, feeling all wet and warm and snug and with an obvious erection between his legs.

As Josh slept, and Miles got milked, and Chris demonstrated his ever-improving cocksucking skills for Bruce, young Daniel's twenty-four hour period with Ophelia Winstrom came to an end. Danny remained on all fours as the wealthy heiress led him back to the barracks. He'd spent most of that time muzzled, with his hands locked away in leather mitts. His rear end was quite red from all the spankings and swats he'd received from the lady for inadvertently acting like a human boy when he was, of course, supposed to be an obedient little puppy. Spike had often tried to help him, but since the eight-year-old never made any noises but 'yips' and barks, it was hard for Danny to figure out what was expected of him. He did like it very much when the lady ordered Spike to crawl between his legs and suck on his penis for a while. That was very nice indeed. Danny only managed to get half-hard, and he didn't have an orgasm, but he did like the way it felt, having another boy suck on his little undersized pecker.

He could not return the favor. Spike's tiny cocklet remained pinned between his legs by the chastity piercing. Danny did lick the younger boy's balls, which made Spike very happy. It was, in fact, the most pleasure the eight-year-old had ever felt down there. Normally those soft little parts were only a source of pain at the hands of his mistress. His little cock did harden, but, having no place to go, it quickly softened again. Needless to say he was a very disappointed little puppy-boy when Danny was ordered to stop. Now Spike trotted along beside his mistress, his little puppy-tail butt-plug wagging back and forth as he crawled on all fours.

Lady Ophelia presented Daniel at the gate. The matron herself was there to check the boy back in. The transaction and final transfer of money was concluded by a simple finger-ID scan.

"Here is his chastity belt," the wealthy woman said, handing over the leather and metal contraption that normally encased the boy's genitals. Being free of it for the last twenty-four hours, Daniel had almost forgotten about it. "He does not seem to need one," she added. "I don't think his little penis ever got hard."

The matron took Daniel's leash and all of the keys to the various padlocks that secured the boy's puppy-gear in place.

"A remarkably charming boy," Ophelia continued. "I shall need to make inquiries about purchasing him."

"I don't think he'd be for sale, ma'am," the matron replied respectfully.

"Everything is for sale, my dear," the older woman answered softly. "One simply must name the right price. Farewell, Daniel," she then said, reaching down and patting the boy's naked and freshly reddened behind. "I'm sure we will meet again. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yip! Yip!" Daniel barked, playing his role of obedient boy-pet right up to the end. Of course young Danny didn't like that idea at all, but he was smart enough to pretend he did.

"Come along, Spike," she tugged gently on the eight-year-old's leash. "We need to get packed for our flight home, then put you in your travel crate." With that, the woman strode proudly away with her little slave boy crawling along beside her. Spike looked back at Danny and blinked his eyes in goodbye. Maybe he'd get to play with the older boy again some time, and maybe mistress would free his penis and let the older boy suck on it. Maybe.

The matron watched Ophelia Winstrom and her boy depart then she gave Daniel a little kick. "Stand up, silly thing. She's gone now."

Daniel scrambled to his feet. The matron didn't wait to get him inside the barracks before locking him back into his chastity belt. Daniel sighed as it was put back on. Strangely enough it didn't feel quite as tight as he remembered. His dick actually had a little bit of room to bounce around inside it. He stared down at the silvery metal plate in mild confusion. The matron smirked knowingly, but said nothing.

"Go to your cell," the matron told him as she buzzed him back into the deserted barracks and walked him inside. "You can rest until your trainer comes to get you." She then spoke into her hand-held radio. "Operations...boy Zero-Five returning..."

Danny stood alone in the commons room for moment. All the other boys were out. It was weird being in here all by himself. Everything was so quiet. He noticed the television was still there, but the screen was blank. Josh's punishment was over. Close in age, sharing the same sport, and being of similar temperament, he didn't particularly like Josh, but he still felt sorry for him. He hoped the other boy was okay. Not wanting to risk the matron's anger, he scurried off to his cell and sat down on his bunk. The comic book he'd taken from the activities cart a few days ago was still there, and so he crossed his smooth bare legs, rested his back against the cool cinder-block wall and escaped into the world of super heroes and nasty villains.

Back in the medical suite, Anna shook Josh awake.

"Time to change your diaper," she said with a smile. "I'm doing to release your ankles. You're not going to kick me, are you?"

"No, ma'am," Josh answered.

Anna unbuckled the medical restraints at the eleven-year-old's feet. Josh bent his legs and wiggled his toes. It felt good to be able to move around again.

"Okay, sweetie, lie still and spread your legs for me."

Josh obeyed. Anna pulled the tabs on the wet diaper and opened it. Josh's oversized penis shot up hard the second it was freed of its soft cottony confinement. Anna ignored the boy's erection for the moment.

"Lift your little butt," she ordered.

Josh arched his back and Anna took the soiled diaper away and discarded it. Then with a warm soapy cloth she washed the boy's middle, paying extra attention to his ball sack and the sensitive skin of the boy's smooth hairless perineum. Josh let out a contented sigh when she touched him there and his pre-teen boner got even harder. The young woman then proceeded to wash the eleven-year-old's penis, being careful to get under his foreskin. She noted that the opening of his urethra was a little red and inflamed from the catheter.

"Is that why it hurt when I pissed, ma'am?"

"That's why it hurts, cutie, but it will be better soon."

Josh suddenly became aware that Anna had set down the wash-cloth and was now slowly jerking him off.

"Oohh, miss...," he trembled and wiggled and sighed again and looked down the length of his body, staring at his hard five-and-one-half-inch erection sticking straight up between Anna's fingers.

Anna kept working on him, gently teasing the little eleven-year-old boy and his sexy big cock. Josh was panting and moaning, his muscular abdomen rising and falling with his rapid breaths. He pulled against the padded wrist cuffs as he got closer and closer to another dry cum. Only this time, his body had a little surprise for him. Still watching, he noticed a little drop of clear fluid oozing out of the tip of his penis. Anna saw it too and ran her finger over it, pulling away and forming a slender thread of sticky pre-teen pre-cum. She tightened her grip on Josh's rigid boycock and coaxed a few more drops out of him.

"You're making pre-cum for me," she said, running her fingers through the boy's blonde hair with her free hand. "Aren't you sweet. Let's see how much you can make for me."

For the next thirty minutes, Anna kept the poor eleven-year-old boy on the edge of a crippling orgasm, never allowing him to cum. His cock was leaking now, a lot like he'd seen his older brother's do whenever they'd masturbated together. Not nearly as much, but more than just those first few drops.

"Am I...am I gonna shoot some white stuff?" Josh asked between heavy rasping gasps.

"I don't think you can just yet, Joshie, but we'll find out soon, won't we?"

"Oh, yes, miss...ohhh, ohhhh, I'm cumming, miss!"

And he did. And it was still mostly dry, a short weak trickle of clear seminal fluid. Still it was the first time anything but pee had ever come out of Josh's dick. He was quite proud of himself.

"Gee," he finally said when the spasms of his orgasm passed, "that sort of makes me a man now, right?"

Anna laughed at him and smacked him gently on the thigh. "If you say so. All I know is it's time to put this young man back into his little boy diaper."

Josh suddenly didn't feel quite so big.

"Would you like bunnies or spaceships?" Anna asked, still giving him a wicked smile.

"I'll take the spaceships, miss."

Anna powdered his middle and his genitals and then put the new diaper on him. Josh looked down at it. It was white just like the first one, but he had to admit the ships were kind of cool. "No more bunnies," he giggled. Anna patted him on the head, strapped his ankles down once more. She held up a pacifier. Josh shook his head vehemently.

"Alright. But if you start making a fuss over here, it's going right in."

"I'll be good, miss."

She set it down on the small table beside the bed. Josh was too awake and too keyed up now to sleep. He'd actually shot something out of his dick. It wasn't much, really. Just some clear fluid, but it made him feel bigger and stronger, and he knew enough about how boys were made to know that in a few months time he'd be shooting white stuff and lots of it, just like the older boys. He couldn't wait to see Chris and tell him.

The pony cart was parked outside the training facility. Special Training Room 2 was the only one currently occupied. Through the closed door, the sounds of Christopher Andrews screaming hysterically and begging for them to stop could be clearly heard. Inside the training room, the thirteen-year-old boy was lying on a metal table, his wrists and ankles locked down to the four corners. His butt was currently six inches above the metal surface, with a huge spiked dildo stuck half-way inside it. He was currently being hung by his genitals. His chastity cage had finally been removed, but a leather cock and ball harness had been put in its place. The harness was attached to a chain pulley directly above him.

"We can go higher, boy," Bruce said, pulling on the end of the chain and forcing poor Chris' ravaged butt another inch off the table. Another round of agonized screams issued from the young teenager's throat.

"Plllleeassse stop! Pleeeease, I can't...hurts soooo baaaad...plleeease," he thrashed his head desperately, finally fixing his wide terrified blue eyes on Lance. "Please," said more softly now as tears continued to fall. Lance felt pity for him certainly, but it was Bruce's money, Bruce's idea, Bruce's special vacation. There was nothing he could do for the boy. Not now.

"Alright, we'll stop. It's time for the needles anyway." Bruce had brought a set with him, specially designed to pierce the soft thin flesh of young boys. Lance shivered when he saw the silvery things in their black case. He'd almost forgotten the pain that could be inflicted on a kid.

"I think we'll do his nipples first."

With a dead, almost robotic expression, Lance joined his master and selected a six-inch needle. The two men stood on either side of the bound, helpless and screaming boy.

"Oh, no! No! Nooooo..." Chris' shriek trailed off into a heavy choking sob as the needles simultaneously pierced his nipples and were pushed through half-way to their widest point. Chris jerked wildly in his bonds, causing himself even more pain form his bound-up genitals, which were now taking quite a bit of the weight of his lean young body.

They gave him a few minutes to calm down and then began to insert needles all over his body. His belly button received one. Six of them, two at a time, were put into his pink hairless scrotum. Smaller thinner ones went into his ear lobes and through the soft flesh of his upper and lower lips, which were soon bleeding.

By now Chris was screaming so loud that his voice was beginning to break into higher and higher octaves. It was a sound of suffering that made Lance cringe. Bruce however was unmoved, or rather extremely turned on by it. He and Lance were both naked, and his cock was hard and dripping.

"Now we're going to do your penis. You'd like that, wouldn't you, boy?"

Chris violently shook his head and spit some blood from his lips out of his mouth.

"Tell me to pierce your big hard boy-cock. It is hard...look at it...look at your dick you filthy little slave..."

Chris found the strength to raise his head and stared at his hard leaking cock. Why did it always do that? He hated this. He wanted out of this room so bad, and yet there was his penis, erect and huge and throbbing and just beginning for nasty things to be done to it.

'What's wrong with me?' the boy thought. 'I'm a total sicko...'

"Tell me," Bruce shouted at him, running the end of a sharp needle along the length of the boy's six-inch boner. "Say it. Say 'Master, pierce my big hard boy-cock."

Chris shook his head and once again tried to look at Lance for sympathy.

"Don't look at him!" Bruce reached beneath the partially suspended boy and rammed more of the already bloody dildo up the thirteen-year-old's ass. Chris screamed again. "Say it! Say it now!"

"P...pierce...Master, pierce my...my...my big hard boy-cock!" With the needles piercing his lips, the boy's words were almost unintelligible.

"As you wish, slave."

One by one, scream by scream, five thin needles were passed through the flesh of Christopher's tortured penis. Chris stared open-mouthed at the silver rods that now decorated his boyhood. He was scared. He'd never been so scared. He didn't know if those things were going to ruin his dick forever or what might happen when they came out.

Again he was allowed to rest and catch his breath. Bruce then stared down at him, holding two more very thick dull needles in his hand.

"The last two. They're going into your balls. Tell me to stick these in your balls. Tell me."

Chris shook his head, sobbing uncontrollably now. "No...no...no..."

"Tell me, boy. Or I'll find even worse places to stick them."

Chris stared into the man's dark eyes. He knew he had no choice. "Master, please...please stick those into my...stick those into my balls!"

Bruce threw the two needles onto the metal table and smiled down at the boy. "Those would have destroyed you. I've never used them on anyone, I've never needed to. You're still hard, Chris."

Chris didn't need to look to know it was true. He could feel his erection throbbing insistently.

"Lance wants to take care of that for you, but let's get those things out first."

With great care, the two men removed the stainless steel needles from the boy's abused body. Aside from Christopher's lips, there was very little bleeding, much to the young gladiator's relief. Bruce removed the dildo and lowered the pulley, returning the boy's backside to the table. The cock and ball harness remained, as did the boy's eager erection.

Lance got up onto the table and straddled the boy's middle. "You've earned this one, Chris."

And so Chris got his cock sucked for the first time in his young life. He'd sucked Joshua's dick before, back home, but his little brother would never return the favor. Lance worked slowly, enjoying the feel of the boy's hard, rigid sex in his mouth. He breathed in deep. The sweet sweaty smell of thirteen-year-old boy was like a drug to him. Chris was so wound up by now that it wouldn't have taken him long at all if Lance hadn't been so adept. Finally he felt that familiar burning in his balls and knew he was going to cum. Nothing could stop that now. He clenched his fists, closed his eyes, shouted out in ecstasy and shot his load of creamy white boy seed into Lance's mouth.

"Oh, yeah!"

Chris slumped weakly and lay motionless on the metal table. He'd never had such a hard cum in all his life. The thirteen-year-old's penis slowly returned to its flaccid state, but, constrained by the cock and ball harness, it remained swollen, his foreskin still drawn partially back, his soft satiny ball sack a dark angry red. The boy moaned. Now that the intense pleasure of his orgasm was fading, the pain and ache of his tortured body began to overcome him once more. Tears formed in his exhausted eyes and he began to cry, softly. He would have given anything in that moment to be allowed to go home. With his blue eyes closed, he didn't see Bruce select a heavy wooden paddle from the wide array of disciplinary instruments hanging on the wall. Lance took the older man's wrist and slowly shook his head.

"Don't, Bruce, please. I don't think he can take anymore."

Bruce brushed his young submissive partner aside. "The boy will take whatever I give him. Pleasure doesn't come without a price. You had to learn that lesson when you were his age. So does he. Get him over to the stocks."