Worldwide Boy Gladiators Part 12

Worldwide Boy Gladiators Part 12
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
istari_olias@yahoo.com
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Chapter 25:

'There once was a boy from Boston, Mass, whose cock and balls were made of brass. He clanged them together in stormy weather and a lightning bolt shot out his ass . . . There once was a boy from . . . '

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

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

The boy was thirsty and hungry. He could feel his stomach growling.

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

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

The time on the digital clock read 19:05:58.

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

"Up the ramp boys," Hannah Dubose ordered, taking charge in Jason's absence.

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

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

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

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

"Oh, no."

"Oh, shit."

"They're not gonna make us . . . "

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

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

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

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

A unanimous shout of 'yes' went through the stands.

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

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

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

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

"Ha!" Chris laughed. "I've got a sword, you've got a toothpick!"

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The crowd shouted out their favorites. Miles walked up to Ian and Danny, who were still front-to-front, pressing their bodies together, thrusting their hips into one another. Both of them were obviously building toward another knee-wobbling pre-teen orgasm, but Miles forced the microphone in between them.

"Hey, guys, how's it going?" he asked, playing his role with impish delight.

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

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

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

"Deal!"

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

"There's three boys left!" Miles announced. "Place your bets!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Shut up."

"No, you shut up."

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

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

He'd managed to sleep in fitful intervals, ten minutes here, twenty minutes there, but for the most part the latex-clad eleven-year-old had been awake the entire time. He was so hungry now his stomach was starting to hurt. 'What if they forget about me?' his young mind raced. 'What if they let me starve!' Josh had no real concept just how long a human body, even a young one, could go without food, or water for that matter. He also had no knowledge of the fact that he was being monitored continually by the people in the control center. The latex suit had built in micro-processors that provided them with a constant stream of data on the boy's heart rate, blood pressure and other vital statistics. Josh was in no real physical danger, but he, of course, did not know that. The plug in his butt started vibrating again. Fast this time. The last three times it had almost brought him to orgasm, denying him that pleasure on each occasion at the last possible moment. 'Oh, no! Not again!' the boy screamed inside his head. The time on the digital clock read 12:17:23. Josh still had more than half of his sentence to go, and that of course was not counting any additional time he would serve due to the demerits earned by the other boys. That number was currently six, meaning he would be spending six additional hours in the black room.

Chapter 26:

William Durand sat leisurely in his study, having just watched the events in the arena. He sat back and took a sip of wine, then glanced over at Trevor. The boy was busy dusting the bookshelves. He was dressed as a maid at the moment, an outfit he wore when he was being punished for minor little infractions. It consisted of a short black petticoat with white lace trim that came down just to his slim hips and barely covered his tiny cock and balls. White stockings were pulled up over his calves, ending just below his knees and held up by a pair of frilly garters around his thighs. Shiny black high-heeled shoes were on his feet. He still wore his spiked leather collar and wrist cuffs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Nathaniel Hilthorpe," the young man introduced himself.

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

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

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

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

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

"Excellent."

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

"I look forward to learning more about them."

"Did you watch the premiere Saturday night?"

Hilthorpe smiled broadly. "I did. Terrific. The boys are adorable, and tremendous athletes. I hope I'll find them to be as gifted intellectually."

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

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

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

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

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

"Thank you, sir. Once the classroom is properly outfitted, we can begin their instruction. I'd estimate the end of next week at the latest. I do intend to give them all reading and writing assignments on a fairly regular basis. Are there any restrictions on allowing them to keep books or journals in their cells?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"As you wish."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jason next put a black ball-gag in the boy's mouth and pulled it tight behind his head, locking it in place. Chris was no longer quite as intimidated by these sorts of things as he had been those first few days on the island, but wearing a gag was still one of his least favorite parts of his new life as a slave. "Your clients think you talk too much," Jason said with smirk. "I tend to agree with them. Don't expect that gag to come out too often for next few days." Chris groaned, not liking the sound of that at all.
The last piece of young Christopher Andrews' new costume was a body-harness. Two leather straps went over his shoulders, four more went around his chest, all joined together by additional straps and large steel rings. Chris was surprised how heavy it was, and how constrictive. "Too tight?" Jason asked as he worked the straps around the boy's rib-cage. Chris shook his head. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but he knew that was of no concern to his trainer and didn't bother complaining. Jason stepped back and whistled.
"Aren't you a cute leather-boy," he said, tussling Chris' short blonde hair. The leather leash completed the look. Jason led the leather-clad boy toward the door. He was joined by Calvin, leading Danny behind him. The boy was crawling on his hands and knees. The twelve-year-old was dressed as a puppy, with a muzzle and head-harness that included pointy dog-ears. Danny was wearing a wide spiked collar. Leather mitts covered his hands. A puppy-tail butt-plug was nestled in his cute little behind, the tail sticking out and wagging with every movement he made. His chastity belt had been removed, leaving his tiny little penis dangling between his legs. His balls had been pulled downward and cinched with a wide leather strap and were already turning a nice shade of red as he crawled along. He looked, and indeed was, a thoroughly miserable boy.

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

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

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

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

The twelve-year-old quickly corrected his error.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"When you walk anywhere with us, you will always stay two feet behind."

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

"Is he plugged?" the older gentleman asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"He's screaming his little lungs off," Trench said. There was, perhaps, just a hint of pity in her voice, mostly however she spoke in the cold detached phrases of a doctor long accustomed to dealing with young boy slaves. He was a commodity. An investment. If she was concerned for the boy's well-being it was simply because it was her job to protect the companies prime assets, of which young Joshua Andrews was currently one. She quickly checked the boy's bio-monitor. "His heart rate is jumping. And there hasn't been any flow of urine through the catheter in over an hour." "Is he in danger?"
"Getting too close for my liking, Hannah," Allison answered. "We need to get him calmed down and hydrated. He's got six hours of his original punishment, plus at least another twelve coming." "When he finds out how many demerits the other boys got, he's going to freak." Allison Trench heartily agreed. "He's not going to be a very happy boy."

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

"Is that pity?"

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

"Ah, motivated self interest then."

"Precisely."

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

"Fair enough."

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

"We'd better get in there."

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

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

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

"Calm down, Zero-Two. We're going to take the hood off for a few minutes and give you something to drink. Be still. Keep your eyes closed. Remember, you are not allowed to talk."

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

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

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

"Hush. No talking."

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

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

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

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

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

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