			      Worldwide Boy Gladiators – Part 2


The Boys:

Christopher Andrews, boy zero-seven, age 13, American
Joshua Andrews, boy zero-two, age 11, American
Daniel O’Hanlon, boy zero-five, age 12, Canadian
Gabriel Shelton, boy zero-six, age 12, English
Miles Harris, boy zero-one, age 10, English
Philippe Dulac, boy zero-nine, age 14, French
Alexei Graznikov, boy zero-four, age 12, Russian
Illya Casparev, boy zero-eight, age 13, Russian
David Brown, boy one-zero, age 14, Australian
Ian Cloverdale, boy zero-three, age 11, Australian


Chapter 10:

	Chris and Alexei were on their hands and knees, watching with
nervous eyes as the doctor and her young female assistants
prepared the machine.
	“Gloves, ladies,” Doctor Trench said, and the three
twenty-somethings quickly followed the doctor’s lead and snapped
latex examination gloves on their hands.
	Trench stood in front of the machine and made several
connections. “Now listen closely, boys . . . look at me . . . “
	The two naked boys raised their heads and craned their necks
back to look at her.
	“You’re going to be milked. Do you understand what that means?”
	“No, ma’am,” Chris answered for himself and his twelve-year-old
partner. The fear and innocent confusion in his young voice was
obvious and drew a smile from the doctor.
	“I’ll explain it to you then. When a boy is milked, it simply
means all the sperm is drained out of his testicles. It’s done by
stimulating the boy’s penis and his prostate until his sperm
starts to come out of him. I could do it by hand,” she reached
between Christopher’s legs and gave the thirteen-year-old’s
semi-erect cock several long firm strokes, causing the boy to
moan in pleasure, “but that takes far too long.” She stopped just
as the boy’s penis reached its full six-inch erection, sticking
straight down between the naked thirteen-year-old’s legs. “The
machine is much more efficient, and it can extract all of a boy’s
sperm without allowing him to have an orgasm.”
 	“Excuse me, doctor,” Anna interrupted. “I’m not entirely clear
on why the boys have to wear the chastity devices . . . or why
they aren’t ever allowed to have a climax.”
	Allison Trench smiled indulgently. “Well, dear, for the most
part it is simply because they are slaves. Boy slaves require
constant discipline, and you know how most boys can’t control
their own penises. They really are nasty little animals.”
	Anna nodded. “My youngest brother is about zero-seven’s age.
He’s always playing with himself.”
	“I would speak with your parents about that, Anna, if I were
you. It’s a filthy habit for a boy to develop . . . they need to
put your brother into a chastity belt immediately . . . but I’m
getting away from your question. Discipline is a very important
part of these boys’ lives now. They are not allowed to touch
themselves and they are certainly not allowed to waste any of
their energy giving themselves sexual pleasure. By keeping the
boys in permanent chastity, we keep them in a permanent state of
sexual frustration. Even the younger boys will feel it to some
degree. Boys like Zero-Seven here,” the doctor jiggled
Christopher’s low-hanging balls and set them swinging between his
thighs, “will be in constant need of sexual release. His
testosterone levels will rise, resulting it better athletic
performance. All of that pent-up energy has to go somewhere. He
will release most of it during the competitions.”
	“So why milk them at all?” Karin asked.
	“Several reasons, my dear,” the doctor answered with seemingly
endless patience. “It will prevent the boys from experiencing
nocturnal emissions. Remember, they are not allowed to have
orgasms, not even in their sleep. Secondly, milking them on a
regular basis will further reinforce in the boys’ minds the basic
fact that they are the property of the company. We have complete
and total control over their bodies. Lastly, and I think most
importantly, it is a matter of keeping the boys healthy. A young
boy’s testicles can be permanently damaged if too much sperm is
allowed to build up. One or more of these boys will probably end
up being subjected to chemical castration and genital reduction
before his indenture expires, but until that decision is made, it
is our job to ensure that our little gladiators remain sexually
healthy. Milking a boy does not release as much sexual tension as
you might think.”
	“How does the machine work?”
	“I’m sure our two little slaves are wondering the same thing.
The best way to teach you is to have you start. Anna, Karin, you
will be responsible for Zero-Four. Terri, you will assist me with
the older boy. Everything is connected and the machine is already
on stand-by. We simply need to place the sheaths around their
penises and insert the prostatic plugs . . . “
	“These egg-shaped things?” Anna asked, picking up one of the
solid metal objects. Chris and Alexei stared at them in dread.
	“Yes, dear. We’ll start by inserting them into the boys’
rectums. Why don’t you apply some lubricant to Zero-Four’s
behind. Terri, if you would do the same for Zero-Seven.”
	“Yes, doctor,” the two woman answered in unison.
	“Ma’am, are you really going to put those things in our butts?”
Chris asked, squirming anxiously on his hands and knees.
	“That’s right, boy. If you’re worried that they’re too big, I
can assure you that once the contests begin, you’ll have even
larger objects inside your cute little butt. Now I want you to be
quiet and let Terri lubricate you properly. If you keep acting
up, we’ll just shove it inside you without any lube at all. I can
promise you won’t like that.”
	“I’ll be good, ma’am,” Chris said.
	“Me too!” Alexei piped up. Anna already had her finger buried in
the twelve-year-old’s hole, and his cock was twitching and
throbbing and fully erect.
	“They both have erections, doctor,” Karin noted.
	“So they do. It doesn’t matter. Once the sheaths are attached,
they’ll soften somewhat, although not completely. Insert the
plugs.”
	The next two minutes were unbearable torture for the two young
boys as the metal objects were worked deeply into their rectums
until their tight young holes closed around them, leaving only
the electrical cords running out of their butts and into the
machine.
	“The plugs use a low level current to massage each boy’s
prostate.”
	“And the metal sheaths, doctor?” Anna asked.
	“They also provide a mild electrical stimulus to the boy’s
penis. Enough to keep the boy in an extreme state of arousal, but
not sufficient to permit him to have an orgasm. After a few
minutes, the combination of the two will result in a constant
flow of pre-seminal and seminal fluid. A few minutes after that,
the boy will start to release his sperm. It may take up to one
hour before he is milked completely dry. They will both find it
quite pleasant at first, but the process quickly becomes quite
agonizing.”
	 Chris and Alexei were both wiggling their hips and whining
softly as they tried to get used to the metal plugs in their
butts. The pressure on their young prostates was causing them
both almost overwhelming feelings of arousal. Chris, with his
head down, could see that his penis was incredibly hard, pointing
straight down at the surface of the metal table. There was
already a line of clear fluid dribbling from the tip. He watched
in fascination as it slowly stretched all the way down to the
table. He was experiencing uncontrollable spasms in his anus,
each one resulting in another drop of pre-cum oozing out of his
thirteen-year-old dick. Next to him, twelve-year-old Alexei was
experiencing the same sensations.
	“They’re both leaking, doctor,” Terri noted, somewhat surprised
that boys so young could produce so much fluid so quickly.
	Doctor Trench laughed. “Then we’d better put the sheaths on
their penises before they leak all over the table.”
	“I think this one might be too big for Zero-Four, doctor,” Anna
said, holding the stainless steel tube.
	“There are smaller ones in the cart, Anna. Simply detach the
hose and select a smaller one for him. The tube should be about
an inch shorter than the boy’s erection. The sheaths are meant to
be tight and very constricting. You will need to apply some
lubricant to their penises before you slide them into the tubes.”
	Chris gasped in pleasure when Terri rubbed the cool lubricant
over his painfully hard dick. He needed to cum so badly. The
young teen thrust his hips desperately, trying to bring himself
off in Terri’s hand.
	“You naughty little boy,” she scolded him, smacking his behind
several times. “Don’t you dare. Now behave yourself and keep
still.”
	“Do you need help getting the sheath on him, dear?” the doctor
asked.
	“No, doctor.”
	Terri slid the thirteen-year-old’s erect penis into the metal
sheath. The thick leather straps at the end of the stainless
steel tube were wrapped around the base of the boy’s genitals and
buckled together, keeping the sheath firmly in place. Chris
discovered that his hard dick just barely fit inside the tube,
but there was no room for it to grow any larger. Every time the
plug in his butt rubbed against that magic spot inside him, his
penis tried to swell up even more, straining painfully against
the metal that encased it. It was actually worse than the
chastity cage.
	“He’s ready, doctor,” Terri announced, smacking Chris’ butt one
more time.
	By now Anna and Karin had Alexei’s noticeably smaller penis
sheathed as well.
	Doctor Trench stood at the machine and pressed several buttons.
Almost instantly, Chris felt all the muscles in his abdomen
clench tightly. His penis throbbed madly inside the sheath. The
egg-shaped plug in his butt was delivering a constant electrical
stimulus to the thirteen-year-old’s prostate. A few moments later
a milder electrical current began to flow through the metal
sheath around the boy’s penis.
	“Oh, god . . . ohhhhh . . . wow!”
	It felt good. Actually it felt great. It felt like he was going
to cum any second. Chris closed his eyes tightly and clenched his
fists. He was so close. So close.
	“Oooooohhhh,” he moaned.
	“Aaahh,” Alexei sighed next to him.
	“I’m . . . I’m gonna cum, miss,” Chris said to Terri. She was
standing beside him, gently cupping the thirteen-year-old boy’s
impressively large testicles with her left hand. The young woman
just smiled.
	Young Christopher Andrews was in for an unpleasant surprise. The
feeling inside him got even more intense, but he did not cum. He
wanted to. He needed to. He should have. But he couldn’t. The
electrical current in the sheath stopped. The rapid pulsing
vibrations of the plug in his butt did not.	 He could feel his
penis soften, just a bit, inside the metal tube, but his need to
shoot his load did not go away. If anything it got even stronger.
	“Oh, man . . . what . . . what’s happening?” he asked in a
panic. “I can’t cum . . . why can’t I . . . what’s it doing to me
. . . oh, god, please let me cum!”
	Both boys were whimpering and moaning.
	A soft noise suddenly filled the room. The vacuum pumps in the
machine had started, forcing the boys’ pre-cum through the clear
plastic hoses. Chris could actually feel the machine pulling his
clear fluid out of his dick.
	“It will take a few minutes before we begin to see signs of
sperm in the hoses,” the doctor explained.
	Once again the electrical current started running through the
sheaths around the boys’ penises. Once again, Chris and Alexei
began to gasp and whine as they were cruelly brought to the edge
of orgasm and then denied. All the while the pumps in the machine
were quietly and relentlessly sucking the fluid that was
streaming continually out of the boys’ dicks.
	After five more minutes of this methodical stimulation, Chris
felt a strange and not entirely pleasant burning in his
testicles. He felt his balls draw up toward his body.
	“Oh. Oh, shit. What’s happening . . . aaawww . . . aghhhh . . .
“
	“What is happening to him, doctor?” Anna asked as young Chris
began to sob and groan.
	“Zero-Seven is experiencing a prostatic orgasm. It can be quite
traumatic for a boy, especially the first time it happens. He’ll
have several more before the machine is finished with him.”
       Christopher’s abdominal muscles clenched again, and inside
the plastic hose the flow of liquid quickly turned a milky white.
All the while the metal plug in the thirteen-year-old’s butt
continued to stimulate the young teen’s already over-sensitized
prostate. Chris lowered his head and looked between his legs. He
could see the metal sheath that covered his dick, and the long
plastic hose that ran from the end of it, attaching him to the
milking machine. He could see his milky boy-juice working its way
through the hose. He was cumming, but he wasn’t. It was horrible
and confusing. Chris didn’t know it could happen this way. It
didn’t exactly hurt. But it didn’t feel good. If this was the
only way he was going to cum for the next three years he was sure
he would go crazy.
	He still needed to cum. Desperately.
	And the machine still kept working, sending electrical shocks
into his prostate and penis, relentlessly sucking his cum out of
his young body.
	“How long do we keep them on the machine, doctor?” Karin asked,
watching Alexei’s thin immature white seed flow through the hose.
	“Until they’re dry, dear,” the Doctor Trench answered. “Based on
their level of sexual development, I’d say they will both need at
least thirty minutes. Zero-Seven may require a full hour.”
	Chris decided he most definitely did not like the machine.
Another prostatic orgasm shook his body as yet another stream of
his boyish seed oozed out of his dick. He’d never felt so
helpless or so ashamed, naked on his hands and knees, his ripe
thirteen-year-old balls dangling between his legs for everyone to
see, his penis strapped into the milking sheath. He tried his
best to be brave, but all these strange and unpleasant feelings
were too much for a young boy to deal with. As the machine forced
a third miserable cum out of him, he began to cry, softly and
weakly. Alexei had already broken down in hysterical tears a few
minutes earlier. A chorus of their high sobbing voices filled the
examination room.
	Doctor Trench smiled and increased the level of stimulation to
the boys’ prostates. They wailed and whined and their torturous
misery continued.

Chapter 11:

	David and Josh continued to run, gasping and panting and not
daring to stop as their trainers drove them on across the
tropical island. It was still early morning, but the air was
already hot and sticky. Sweat was running down Josh’s face, his
hair was damp, in fact his entire eleven-year-old body was
currently glistening with a thin sheen of boy-sweat. He had to
run twice as hard as David to keep stride with the
fourteen-year-old’s long slim legs.
	For his part, David would try to shorten his steps so Josh could
keep pace, but invariably he would forget and pull ahead until
the chain between the boys’ collars was stretched as far as it
would go. Josh would immediately stumble, sometimes falling and
being dragged along for a few steps, sometimes taking David down
with him leaving the two boys in a sore and sweaty heap of
slender tangled limbs.
	Riding behind them, their trainers would stop and wait for the
boys to regain their feet, before forcing them on again. Josh had
already earned ten more demerits for falling down five times.
David had received four, which he thought was very unfair since
it was the younger boy’s stumbles that had tripped him up both
times. The course was winding and uneven and led them through
thickly forested areas of the island. The boys welcomed the shade
whenever they passed beneath the trees, but it did little to cool
things off.
	“I’m getting tired,” Josh said as he ran as fast as the chains
between his ankles would allow. “How much longer are we gonna
have to keep running?”
	“I don’t know,” David answered, taking the young boy’s arm and
helping pull him along the dirt track. “Just keep your legs
moving. I’m not going to drag you all over the island. And we’re
not getting any more demerits today, got it, mate?”
	“Got it,” Josh shouted. He’d already earned ten demerits for his
erection this morning, now he’d accumulated ten more during the
run. He did the math in his head as they came back out into the
blazing tropical sunlight. “Fuck! I got like twenty demerits
already!”
	“Right, mate, and I’ve got six. I’m not going to be last at the
end of the week.”
	“Me neither!”	
	Gladiator Island would have been considered small were it a
sovereign Caribbean nation, as a privately owned estate however,
it was exceptionally large. The specially designed boy-sized
marathon course used every square mile of it. Just over twenty
miles, it wound through the tropical trees that shaded the center
of the island and along the white sands of the beach, passing in
sight of William Durand’s private mansion at its northern most
point, then winding back to the main competition area. At the
halfway point, the boys circled the arena and ran inside, their
trainers riding behind them on the four-wheeler. David and Josh
made two circuits of the arena floor, looking up at the empty
stands. In less than two weeks, those seats would be filled with
rabid spectators who had paid top dollar to see ten naked boys
enduring all manner of trials and torments and tests of
endurance.
	The boys ran outside again, starting the second half of their
run, which would take them over the western side of the island,
where hills and a rocky shoreline awaited them. Considering their
youth, and their inexperience at long-distance running, David and
Josh were making excellent time. Both boys were terrific
athletes, but as the course became more challenging, the strain
on their young bodies began to show. Josh especially began to
struggle as their run ended its second hour.
	“Come on, Josh, just keep running,” David said, trying to sound
encouraging. His own legs were burning.
	Behind them, their trainers drove up close on their heels.
	“Pick up your feet, boys,” Hannah shouted at them. “I want those
little butts moving. Speed up!” She accelerated a bit until she
was almost on top of them. Afraid of being run over, the fourteen
and eleven-year-old managed to find some extra energy.
	After they’d covered about two more hard miles, Hannah blew a
whistle and ordered them to stop. Michella clicked the stopwatch
in her right hand and called them over to the four-wheeler.
Sucking in air as fast as they could, the boys hurried back to
their trainers. They stood there bent at their waists, hands on
their knees, the chain between their collars swinging between
them.
	“Stand up straight,” Michella said. “Hands behind your heads.”
	Each with a tired sigh, the boys obeyed. With critical eyes, the
two women looked at the boys for a moment. Their young smooth
bodies glistened with sweat from head to toe. Josh’s blond hair
was so damp now it had turned a dark brown. David looked as if
he’d just stepped out of the swimming pool.
	“Not bad, boys,” Hannah said. She pulled two bottles of water
out of a cooler behind her and tossed them to David and Josh.
“Drink it slow,” she warned them.
	The boys twisted the caps and brought the bottles to their lips.
It was so cold and they were so thirsty. It was hard to follow
orders and not gulp it down, but both boys were experienced young
athletes and knew the proper way to take in fluids.
	“God that’s cold,” Josh said to his partner.
	“Yeah, mate. I needed that.”
	“Thanks, ma’am,” they both said to their trainers at once.
	The two women smiled at their polite little boys.
	“How are we doing, ma’am?” David asked softly.
	Michella checked her stopwatch. “Just over two hours. Seeing as
neither of you are runners, that’s very good.”
	“How far have we run?” Josh asked between sips. The cold water
felt so good in his mouth.
	“You’re at eleven miles right now.”
	“Wow!” Josh said with wide eyes. “I never thought I could run
that far.”
	Hannah smiled, somewhat wickedly. “Well good for you. But don’t
get cocky, little man. You’ve still got nine miles to go.”
	“That’s enough water for now,” Michella told them. The boys
obediently handed back their bottles. “You’ll get more later. Now
stand still. You’re both starting to get red. We don’t want you
sunburned on camera.”
	Hannah nodded her agreement. “We’re going to put some tanning
oil on you.”
	The trainers stepped off the four-wheeler and stood in front of
their boys with bottles of oil in their hands. Hannah and
Michella were about the same height. A good foot taller than
David, and more than eighteen inches over young Joshua. They
removed the chain that connected the boys’ collars and let it
fall to the ground.
	Josh looked up at Hannah with a mixture of fear and
determination. He wanted to win. He always won. He hated losing,
especially to his brother. He was afraid of his trainer, and with
good reason after spending a few hours with her in the training
room the night before, but he also knew she was there to help him
do his very best.
	“I am going to push you, Zero-Two,” she’d told him last night,
just before Josh received his first whipping. “And you are going
to take everything I give you. Most of the other boys are older
and bigger and stronger than you are, but that is no excuse. I
won’t tolerate failure.”
	“Me neither,” Josh had said, gritting his teeth as the first
blow landed across his back. After letting out a loud scream he
craned his neck back at her. “I hate losing.”
	“That’s one thing we have in common then,” Hannah had said.
	Now she was gently applying the cool oil to his naked body. Her
hands were a lot softer than he thought they’d be and she wasn’t
rough with him at all. “Put your arms at your sides.” She covered
his back and rubbed the oil over his shoulders. She gently
massaged it into his chest. “You’ve got nice little muscles,
Zero-Two.”
	He smiled up at her. As much as he was afraid of her, he also
wanted her to like him. She worked slowly down over his stomach.
Josh began to get a tingly feeling inside his chastity belt. He
could feel his penis starting to swell up against the metal plate
that kept his young genitals tightly constrained and permanently
out of reach. As Hannah began working the oil into his thighs he
could not help but let a soft moan of pleasure escape his lips.
	Hannah laughed. “Is that horse-dick of yours trying to get hard
in there?” she asked, tapping a finger against the metal
covering.
	“Yes, ma’am.”
	“You are a naughty boy, Zero-Two.”
	“Yes, ma’am,” Josh said. He rather enjoyed the feelings he was
having. His penis wanted to get hard, but it couldn’t do it. It
felt strange and intoxicating, knowing he couldn’t touch himself.
He was almost giddy. He wanted Hannah to keep touching his legs
like that, but by now she was done. He sighed in disappointment.
	“Don’t worry, my little colt,” Hannah told him, “you’ll get a
chance to exercise your cock when you get to medical this
evening. Now, go over and sit down under that tree. You have ten
minutes before you start running again.”
	Josh walked over to the tree, looking down at his body, which
now had a fine sheen of oil on it. It seemed to really define his
young muscles a lot more clearly. He liked the way it looked, and
it had a nice scent too. He smiled at himself, and ran his right
hand over the metal cover of his chastity belt. His penis had
softened somewhat, but it was still all tingly. He sat down in
the grass under the shade of the tree and crossed his legs. He
looked up at the cloudless blue sky. It was really hot out here,
but it was pretty. He wished he could go into the ocean. That
would have been neat. He could hear the waves far off in the
distance.
	David came over a few minutes later. Josh could see that the
older boy’s penis was straining inside its cage, and the
fourteen-year-old had the same dreamy look on his face that Josh
had worn just a few moments earlier.
	“You too, ay mate?” David asked as he folded his long legs under
him and sat down.
	“Yeah.”
	“It totally sucks not being allowed to have a boner,” the young
Aussie observed.
	“Sure does, dude.”
	“I think those two are totally hot!” the fourteen-year-old said
with a nervous giggle.
	Josh shook his head. “I think they’re scary.”
	“Yeah, yeah they’re kinda scary too.”
	“I’m glad they let us stop,” Josh admitted quietly. “I was
getting really tired.”
	“I could tell.”
	“Oh, like you weren’t.”
	David looked at him with friendly eyes. “Didn’t mean anything by
it, mate.” He reached over and patted Josh on the leg.  “I’m like
three years older than you, right. Got longer legs, you know.
This is easier for me. I think it’s cool the way you just keep
running. You got balls, mate.”
	“Yeah, I guess I kinda do, don’t I?”
	 Hannah blew her whistle when their break was up. The two boys
quickly got to their feet and once again stood at attention in
front of the two young women.
	“No more talking,” Michella said as Hannah reattached the chain
between the boys’ collars. “You’ve got nine more miles to cover
and we expect you to do it fast. We’re going to be right on your
little butts the whole way. If you slow down, you’ll get the
prod,” she pulled the long stick from between the seats. “No
breaks. If you have to piss, just go while you’re running.”
	Again they heard Hannah’s whistle, and the two boys started
running just like before, with their trainers following close at
their heels on the four-wheeler. They were the first pair on the
course, and their trainers expected them to set a high standard.
The four other pairs would follow before the day was over.

	 Meanwhile, back at the main production facility, William Durand
was having breakfast with Jason Sanborne, and several members of
the film crew, including the director, Michael Brussard, who had
worked on most of XB1’s earlier hits, including the still popular
‘Enslaved.’ Lara Tomlinsin, who was not due to arrive on the
island for several days, was participating via video conference
from the network’s headquarters in New York.
	“So, Bill,” Lara said, now on a first name basis with her boss,
“what do you think of our little project so far?”
	“Simply brilliant, my dear,” the experienced media mogul said,
raising his glass to her. “The facilities here on the island are
exceptional and the staff and crew could not be of higher
quality.”
	“And the boys?”
	“Marvelous. They’re all adorable, and they’re all muscular
little gods. See that your team in recruitment receives an extra
bonus for finding them. Any problems with the indentures?”
	“None, sir. Every boy, or at least his parent’s, signed up
willingly. None of the families demanded more than the five
million we offered them.”
	“So we are on budget.”
	“A little under, sir,” Lara reported proudly.
	“Very good. Now I believe you had a few other items on the
agenda.”
	“I do, sir. Minor little details we should clarify before things
go too much further.”
	“Such as?”
	“Well, first and foremost we need to make sure that we all
understand the safety limits we’ve put in place for the boys.
They are company property and constitute a major investment in
time and money.” She looked primarily at Jason Sanborne as she
spoke. As head trainer, overseeing the boys and ensuring that all
the trainers and staff obeyed the rules was his responsibility.
	“You don’t have any reason for concern, Lara,” Jason said,
staring at her image on the screen.
	“I’m sure I don’t, but more than a few of our trainers may be a
little too enthusiastic, if you know what I mean. I want to make
sure we’re all on the same page here. Aside from the obvious
economic loss, we have to remember these boys are indentured. The
ICSC in Geneva does have established guidelines regarding their
general treatment and we are required under the law to follow
them. Indentured boys don’t have rights in the sense that free
boys do, but there are certain protections that must be
guaranteed. No mutilations. No blows to the head. No beatings
outside of established punishment and discipline procedures.
Humiliation in any and all forms is perfectly acceptable and
encouraged, but the boys are not to suffer any lasting injury.”
	“I’m fully aware of the statutes, Lara,” Jason said, “and so are
my trainers. We’ve already had this discussion. No one wants to
see these boys get hurt, at least not in that way.” He shifted
his gaze to William Durand. “We’ll keep them safe, we’ll keep
them in top shape, and we’ll keep them ready to compete every
day. You have my word on that.”
	“Good enough for me. What else do you have for us, Lara?”
	“Well, sir, I know we did not discuss this during our initial
planning sessions, but we need to ensure some education for the
boys. Their indentured status requires us to provide a maximum
eight hours of schooling per week for the boys thirteen and
older. Sixteen hours per week is required for those twelve and
under. I’ve taken the liberty of hiring a tutor. He’ll be
arriving early next week, after the first weekend of competition
is over. His qualifications are impeccable. We can easily adapt
some space in the training facility for use as a classroom.”
	Durand nodded that this plan seemed prudent. The company had
very wide latitude in dealing with their ten young slave boys,
but there were internationally accepted rules that had to be
respected. It was simply good business to do so.
	“What do you think, Mike?” the XB1 chief asked, turning to the
show’s director after Lara had concluded her report.
	“Gladiators is going to be a huge hit. I’ve already looked at
some of the rough film we shot yesterday. The boys are incredibly
cute, and they all photograph well. Some of them seem to be a
little too aware of the camera. We’ll have to train them to
ignore us. We don’t want the audience at home to get the mistaken
impression that anything has been scripted, or that the boys are
acting.”
	“Once we get into the competition, that should take care of
itself,” Jason said. “The boys will be much too busy to even
notice the cameras are there. Are we going to allow them to be
interviewed?”
	“I’m not sure, Jason,” Mike said. “I don’t think we want people
developing too close an attachment to these boys. We’re going to
be doing some rather awful things to them after all. The show
could lose ratings if one or two of them develop into stars.”
	“I disagree, Mike,” Durand said. “I think the viewers need to
invest in these boys. The more they feel they know them, the more
intense the show will become, especially once things really start
to get difficult for our little gladiators. And if a few of them
do become stars, so much the better. When we’re not in
competition, we can put the boys on public appearances all around
the world.”
	“That’s all good,” the director said, “I’m just concerned that
people will start to feel too much sympathy for them if they know
them too well.”
	“I don’t think we have much to worry about there, Mike,” Lara
said thoughtfully. “These boys were all champion athletes in
their own sports. They’re not used to losing. And you know how
competitive boys this age can be. They all seem friendly with
each other now, but once the stakes get higher, and the cost of
losing becomes more and more painful, we’ll start to see these
boys turn into little animals. Trust me, they won’t show any
sympathy to each other, and I don’t think the audience will show
much for any of them.”
	“Alright. We’ll include the interviews then. If nothing else it
will give the audience a chance to see the boys’ bodies close up.
That should be worth a cheap thrill and a few extra points in the
ratings.”
	“I’ll be meeting with our marketing people tomorrow to begin
getting teasers on the air,” Durand explained. “Mike, can you
pull together some footage for me?”
	“No problem, boss.”
	“Excellent. I think we’re going to have a big hit on our hands.”

	Back in the medical suite, Chris and Alexei were still attached
to the milking machine. It had been almost forty-five minutes and
the two boys were both sobbing quietly as the machine continued
to stimulate their young prostates and coax more and more sperm
from their testicles. Neither boy had achieved anything close to
an orgasm and both of them remained hopelessly and helplessly
aroused and frustrated and very embarrassed at being hooked to
the machine, watching their milky white sperm flow through the
clear plastic tubes.
	Up until now, neither of the two young teens had even known it
was possible to make a boy shoot his sperm without letting him
ejaculate, but now they were experiencing it first hand.
Christopher’s balls were starting to ache, like someone had
kicked him between his legs. His cock was still half-hard and it
was hurting too, the way it did whenever he’d jerked off too much
back home, even though he hadn’t jerked off at all.
	The plugs in their butts continued to vibrate at varying speeds,
but the current that had run through the sheaths around their
penises had been off for the last ten minutes. The boys’
prostates were so overstimulated now that no stimulation of their
penises was necessary to produce a continual flow of boyish
fluid.
	Chris felt his arms going weak and rested his head on the metal
table. There he was with his butt up in the air, his big
thirteen-year-old balls dangling loose and low between his
hairless legs, his cock trapped inside the metal sheath. It was
then that he noticed the cameraman for the first time.
	‘How long has he been in here?’ he wondered to himself. He
didn’t like the idea of people seeing him like this, with that
plug in his butt and his balls hanging down and everything else,
but he knew he didn’t have a choice anymore. Mostly he just
wanted to get off that horrible table and as far away from that
machine as possible.
	After another five minutes, the fluid that was coming out of him
started to turn clear. The machine made a loud noise and the
suction increased dramatically, as did the electrical current
being sent to the butt-plug.
	“Oh, jeezus . . . “ Chris groaned. He felt as if the machine was
trying to suck him inside out. “Turn it off! Aaaaghh! Turn it
off, please . . . !”
	“You’re almost done, Zero-Seven,” the doctor said. “We just need
to make sure you’re dry. Just a few more minutes.”
	A few more minutes turned out to be more like twenty as the
machine continued to pull the clear fluid from the poor kid’s
body. Finally, Chris achieved what amounted to a dry orgasm, just
like the ones he barely remembered having when he was nine or
ten. He gasped and felt all the muscles in his abdomen tense up.
It hit him hard, but of course it was not the cum he wanted, just
that intense agonizing tingling feeling that shook his entire
body and was almost as painful as it was pleasurable. He let out
an anguished sob and collapsed flat on his stomach.
	“Stay on your hands and knees until you’re told,” Terri
reprimanded him with a sharp swat to his behind.
	With a tired groan Chris returned to the humiliating position,
only to discover the camera was now pointed directly at his face,
recording the tears that fell from his eyes. He wanted to reach
out and slap it away, but he was afraid of what might happen to
him if he did that. Instead he just put his head down on the
table again and closed his eyes.
	Next to him, Alexei, younger and less well endowed was
nonetheless still producing an active flow of sperm. He was
crying and begging them to stop the machine. Anna stroked the
Russian boy’s hair gently and spoke soft words of encouragement
to him. It took another five minutes before he too experienced a
shuddering dry orgasm.
	The machine went silent. Doctor Trench cut the power. “Now lie
still boys. We’re going to get the sheaths off you and take your
plugs out. I don’t want to hear a word from either of you.”
	Chris felt Terri working between his legs, loosening the leather
straps that held the cock-sheath in place. She pulled it off
slowly, revealing the thirteen-year-old boy’s now flaccid
four-inch long penis.
	“That’s a good boy,” she said, tenderly rubbing the backs of his
thighs. “Keep it soft now.”
	“Yes, miss.”
	“I’m going to take the plug out of your butt now. Spread your
legs a little wider.”
	Chris did as he was told.
	“Take a few deep breaths for me, ok, and try to relax.”
	“Yes, miss,” Chris said, his voice embarrassingly high and
child-like at that moment. He took his breaths and felt Terri
begin pulling on the end of the plug.
	“Try to push it out. Not too hard . . . that’s right . . . here
it comes . . . “
	“Aaaahhhh!” Chris cried as the plug came out of his butt with a
loud slurp. One last glob of semen drooled out of his dick at the
same moment and fell onto the metal table.
	“Well, looks like we didn’t get all of it after all,” Terri said
in an amused voice. “I won’t tell the doctor if you won’t.”
	“No, miss.”
	Terri disappeared for a moment and returned with a warm damp
washcloth. She gently cleaned the young teenager’s genitals.
Chris sighed happily when the warm cloth touched his penis. He
thought back to the last time that his mother had given him a
bath when he was seven. How good it felt when she washed his
little one-inch wienie. How he laughed and giggled and got a
weird tingly feeling between his little legs. Of course he
sprouted a little boner. His mother had smiled at him, ignoring
the hard little stick between her son’s legs. Since then, no one
had washed his dick for him.
	“That feels nice, miss,” he whispered, resting his head on the
table again.
	“You’re keeping it soft,” Terri praised him. “Looks like you're
starting to learn some self-control.”
	“Alright, boys,” the doctor said, interrupting the pleasant
ministrations, “we’re going to take your temperatures now. Keep
still.”
	Terri pulled a thermometer from the pocket of her lab coat and
pushed it into Christopher’s butt. Anna did the same for Alexei.
It was icy cold. Chris shivered and let out a little yelp of
protest. It was so embarrassing. He hadn’t had his temperature
taken this way since he was four years old.
	“Rectal thermometers always give more accurate readings,” Trench
explained to the humiliated boys. “You’d better get used to it.”
	The thermometers were left in for about two minutes. Terri
pulled it out quickly and read off the number. “Ninety-eight
point nine degrees, doctor. He’s a little warm.”
	“That’s to be expected after a milking.”
	Alexei’s temperature was ninety-nine degrees exactly.
	“He’s younger and smaller, so he’s bound to be a little bit
warmer,” Trench explained to her young assistants. “Now, let’s
put their chastity devices back on.”
	The doctor helped Terri get the ring around Christopher’s
dangling genitals. “Measure his penis for me, dear, before we put
the cage around it.”
	“Yes, doctor.” Terri quickly grabbed a flexible ruler and began
calling out numbers while the doctor recorded the data on her
chart. “He’s four inches long, just over one inch wide, girth is
. . . nearly three inches.”
	“Good. We need to make sure he gets the proper dosage in his
pills. We want his penis to be seven inches long before he turns
fourteen. Can you get the cage on him without my help, dear?”
	“I think so, doctor,” Terri said with confidence.
	“Excellent.”
	Terri did not have any problems with Chris at all. The boy
remained perfectly still as the metal chastity device was once
again placed around his penis. He could feel the ends of the
spikes just pressing into the flesh of his boyhood. The device
felt tighter than it did before, and he thought maybe they’d
gotten mixed up and put Alexei’s smaller cage on his much bigger
dick. Terri seemed to notice the boy’s concern and soothed him.
	“Your penis is still a little swollen from the machine. It’ll go
back to normal in a few hours.”
	“Yes, miss.”
	The padlock was again fed through the hole in the post that held
the device together. Chris heard it click with finality and he
knew that once again his penis was locked up and off limits.
	“Ladies,” Doctor Trench announced, “we still need to select
permanent anal-plugs for them, give them their pills and record
the last of their measurements. We’ve got eight more boys to do
today, so let’s finish up.”
	They left the boys on the tables, still on their hands and
knees, and followed the doctor over to a wall cabinet. Trench
unlocked it and her young assistants surveyed the contents.
	“Keeping a boy plugged, especially when his penis is locked in a
chastity device, is a very effective method of control, ladies,”
she instructed them. “His prostate will be constantly stimulated,
resulting in constant sexual arousal, which of course, the boy
cannot possibly achieve. He will be much more obedient and much
more focused on his required tasks. Terri, please select one for
Zero-Seven. Anna, Karin, you will choose one for Zero-Four.”
	All of the plugs were metal, but the sizes varied greatly. Terri
chose a very large and heavy one for Christopher.
	“Are your sure, dear?” Trench asked. “That one is rather big for
a boy his size.”
	“He’ll get used to it, won’t he?”
	“Yes, but I am afraid we would damage him trying to get it in.
Go down one size and you’ve got it.”
	Terri selected a slightly smaller plug, which met with the
doctor’s immediate approval. Anna and Karin chose one
considerably smaller than that for Alexei. “He’ll need a bigger
one before too much longer,” the doctor advised, “but that one is
acceptable for a starter. Apply some lubricant and insert them
into the boys’ rectums. I’ll make notes in their files that
Zero-Seven has been given a size five plug, and Zero-Four has a
size three.”
	The boys were not at all happy when they learned they would have
butt-plugs inside them at all times. Alexei, whose butt was still
very sore from the machine, started to cry and begged them not to
do it. He received two demerits for his misbehavior. Chris stayed
quiet while Terri began to force the large plug into his small
thirteen-year-old boyhole. He gritted his teeth and grunted and
finally had to let out a loud scream. The plug was only half-way
in and it was tearing him painfully.
	“Relax, boy,” Terri warned him. “It has to go in and it’s going
in rather you like it or not.”
	Chris spread his legs even wider than before and tried to relax
his muscles back there. Terri continued pushing and finally the
plug slid inside him all the way until the base was snug against
his butt. Chris’ penis immediately swelled inside the chastity
device, driving the spikes into his thickening tube of boyflesh.
	“Get them up and get them on the scales,” Doctor Trench ordered.

	Chris and Alexei quickly discovered that walking with a metal
plug up your butt was a rather uncomfortable prospect. Both boys
pranced around for a moment, trying to get used to the sensation.
The plug in thirteen-year-old Christopher’s rectum was applying
constant pressure to that special spot inside him. Every step he
took resulted in a little massage on his teenaged prostate.
	“How does the plug feel?” Terri asked him. She was truly
curious, as she really had no experience in how young boy slaves
were normally treated.
	“It’s ok, I guess,” Chris answered honestly. The feelings he was
having were becoming very confusing. It didn’t hurt. In fact it
felt kind of nice. “I feel all full up there. It’s pushing on
something inside me, that same spot the machine kept touching.”
	“That’s your prostate.”
	Chris had heard Doctor Trench say that word, but he’d never
heard it before and didn’t really know what she’d been talking
about.
	“My what?”
	“Your prostate. All males have them. It’s a part of your
reproductive system. It’s a little gland up inside your butt.”
       “It feels weird.”
       Terri smiled as she put the boy on the scale and recorded
his weight and height. “You’re just starting puberty. A boy’s
prostate is especially sensitive at that age. When something
touches it, it sends signals to your balls and your penis and
gives you an erection. Your penis is trying to get hard right
now, isn't it?”
       “Just a little,” Chris admitted. He could feel his dick
swelling just bit inside the cage, not enough to feel the full
bite of the spikes though.
“You’ll probably stay like that for a few hours, but after a
while you’ll start to get used to
having the plug inside you. It’ll still feel weird, like you
really need to cum, but it won’t make your dick want to get hard
all the time.”
“Like the machine.”
“Smart boy!” she said praising him as he stepped off the scale.
“That’s exactly how we
made you cum without letting you ejaculate. I think the
scientific term for it is prostatic orgasm. I’ll have to ask the
doctor about that though.”
	“That wasn’t really fun,” Chris said.
	“It’s not supposed to be. Your genitals aren’t there for your
pleasure. Now that you’re a slave they’re really pretty much
useless. We just need to drain your balls every so often so you
don’t have health problems. There’s no reason for a boy like you
to ever have an orgasm.”
	“Ever?”
	“When does your indenture expire?”
	“Not ‘til I’m sixteen,” Chris said with a glum expression.
	“Well then I guess you won’t be having any until then,” Terri
said matter-of-factly. She then handed an index card with Chris’
measurements to the doctor.
	Allison Trench fed the information into the computer. “Well,
Zero-Seven, you are about average height for a boy your age, and
you are slightly underweight, but that is normal for a swimmer,
am I right?”	
	“Yes, ma’am. I don’t want to get above one-hundred-five pounds.
If I do it could really slow me down.”
	“You won’t be gaining much weight while you’re here, I can
almost guarantee that,” she told him. “But we do want to help you
add some muscle.”
	“I’d like that, ma’am.”
	She walked over to the medicinal cabinet, looked over its
contents for a moment, and returned with two bottles. She neatly
wrote Chris’ full name and number on them. “You’ll be taking one
dose of each every morning. Your trainer will administer them
before you leave the barracks.”
	“What do they do, ma’am?” Chris asked, unable to pronounce the
names of the two medications.
	“The first is an endorphin/adrenaline booster. It will help your
body use calories more efficiently. You’ll build muscle faster,
you’ll have a lot more energy, and you won’t tire out as much.”
	Chris wrinkled his nose and looked at her darkly. He was only
thirteen but he was a serious athlete. “Isn’t that like cheating?
I mean . . . isn’t stuff like that illegal?”
	“Not for slaves. We can administer any drugs to you any time we
want as long we don’t allow you to become addicted. And it isn’t
cheating since all the other boys will be getting precise doses
based on their age and physical development. Satisfied?”
	“Yes, ma’am.”
	“This other one,” she said, smiling rather amusedly, “is
intended to force your pituitary gland to send more growth
hormone to your penis. Your body will still grow at its normal
rate, but your penis will grow a lot faster and a lot longer than
it normally would.”
	“How . . . how big am I going to get?” the thirteen-year-old
asked, looking down at his ample cock locked away in its metal
cage.
	“I’d say at least seven inches, soft,” Trench replied with a
smile. “We’ll stop the dosages after that.
	“Wow,” Chris said. So, he’d be carrying around a huge seven-inch
dick and not even be allowed to use it. That was definitely going
to suck.
	Alexei received his meds as well and the boys were ordered to
take their first dose under the doctor’s watchful eye. Chris was
happy he didn’t have any problems getting the pills down this
time, unlike last night in the training room with Jason.
	“You’ll feel a little light-headed at first,” the doctor
explained, “and then you’ll feel the adrenals kick in.”
	Christopher’s head was just starting to spin when Jason and
Natasha came for him and his twelve-year-old partner.
	“Did they behave themselves?” Jason asked.
	“For the most part,” Doctor Trench replied. “Zero-Four gets two
demerits for whining a little too much. Other than that they were
obedient young men.”
	Natasha clapped Alexei on the back of the head. “You straighten
up, boy. I won’t have you finishing last the first week. The
competition hasn’t even started yet and you’re already behind.”
	“Sorry, ma’am.”
	“Start acting your age or you will be.”
	Chris was happy he hadn’t gotten any bad marks. He looked up at
Jason and received a little private smile from him.
	“Alright then, boys, lets go. We’re going to the hippodrome to
train you on the chariots.”
	The boys stood at attention, arms at their sides while their
trainers locked the shackles around their wrists and ankles. The
heavy chain was attached between the boys’ collars once again and
they were marched out of the medical suite. “When do you need to
milk them again, doctor?” Natasha asked.
	“We can go every two weeks with both of them to start.”
	“We’ll work it into their training schedules.”
	“Good-bye, boys,” the doctor said, her assistants smiling beside
her. Neither Chris nor Alexei were looking forward to seeing them
again.


Chapter 12:

	Jason and Natasha led their boys outside. It was still morning
but it was already hot and humid on Gladiator Island. The sky was
cloudless and a beautiful shade of blue. Chris and Alexei marched
silently in front of their trainers, chained together by their
collars, naked, shackled and chained at their wrists and ankles,
their genitals locked in the chastity devices, metal plugs
stuffed in their butts. They were miserable and tired and yet, as
they trudged forward in their chains, the pills they’d been given
began to make them feel a bit more energetic.
	“I didn’t like that machine,” Chris whispered to his new friend.
	“Me neither,” the twelve-year-old said. He still felt like he
needed to cum, and the butt-plug was making it worse. He was a
little bit jealous of Chris’ much larger penis, but he did
remember that he was the one who produced the most fluid, even
though his balls were smaller too. He was kind of proud of that.
“I beat you, you know . . .”
	“Huh?”
	“I made more stuff than you did.”
	Chris had noticed that, but didn’t really think it meant all
that much. “It probably wasn’t sucking yours as hard as it was
mine,” the thirteen-year-old said, “I mean, mine’s a lot bigger.”
	“Ok, boys, that’s enough talking,” Jason warned them.
	Chris and Alexei quieted down right away. They walked past the
arena, and along the outside of the grandstand that surrounded
the swimming pool. They could see Illya and Ian standing at the
edge of the pool with their trainers behind them giving them
orders. The boys had been freed of their collars and shackles.
Illya’s chastity cage had been removed, allowing the hairless
thirteen-year-old’s exceptionally large penis to swing freely
between his legs. Eleven-year-old Ian remained locked in his
leather chastity belt, the metal cover tightly encasing his
genitals, forcing his testicles up inside him and keeping his
little dick permanently pointed straight down.
	Turning his head to watch as they marched by, Chris saw Illya’s
trainer, Sergei, strap several lead weights around the boy’s
forearms and calves. Sergei was a tall, blond-haired
seventeen-year-old Russian gymnast who looked remarkably like an
older version of Illya. In fact, Sergei was Illya’s older
brother, something only Sergei, Illya, and Jason Sanborne
happened to know. Ian’s trainer, brown-skinned Anthony was
applying similar weights to the little Australian boy’s arms and
legs and another set went around his waist.
	“What are they doing, sir?” Chris asked, pointing in the
direction of the pool.
	“Water endurance, Zero-Seven. You’ll get a chance to show me
just how good a swimmer you really are later this afternoon.”
	With a loud splash Illya and Ian went into the water. Their
challenge was to swim ten laps of the pool with nearly half their
own weight attached to their bodies.
	As Chris and Alexei approached the hippodrome, the saw Miles and
Philippe leaving the building with their trainers.
Fourteen-year-old Philippe was covered in dust and dirt and fresh
bruises and looked like he was totally exhausted. His knee had
been taped up in a rudimentary way and he was limping noticeably.
Ten-year-old Miles was a lot cleaner and still full of energy.
Chris wondered why they looked so different from each other.
	They entered the hippodrome from a tunnel beneath the
grandstand. The hard-packed dirt track was hot against the boys’
bare feet. Their trainers led them across the track to the
pavilion in the center. There were seven different chariots
there, some larger some smaller, all of them with the XB1 logo
painted on their sides.
	Jason let the boys walk around and get familiar with the
two-wheeled carts. Natasha went to make sure all the necessary
equipment for the training session was in order. “Every chariot
is a little different, boys,” Jason explained. “You can see they
come in different sizes, but they also have different weights.
The big ones aren’t always the heaviest.”
	The boys were standing in front of the largest one and together
they pushed on it. It rolled rather easily and turned out to be
quite light. They smiled at each other and moved on to the one
right next to it. It was smaller, but much harder to get rolling.

	“Today we’re going to practice one driver, one pony.”
	Chris remembered the tour from yesterday. That Durand man had
told them there wouldn’t be any horses, that the boys would be
pulling the chariots themselves. The reason for Philippe’s dirty
bruised appearance was now rather clear, as was little Mile’s
virtually spotless body.
	“I’m the pony, right, sir?” Chris asked, staring at the line of
chariots.
	“Correct, Zero-Seven,” Jason said as he removed the chain
between their collars. Their shackles were taken off as well. 
“When you two compete as a team, you’ll be pulling. Zero-Four
will be driving. You’re bigger than he his, and older, so it’s
your job.”
	“I will be driving?” Alexei asked, excited at the idea and also
glad he wasn’t the one who  had to be the pony. That didn’t sound
like it would be a whole lot of fun.
	“You’re the driver. It’s your job to control your pony and make
him run as fast as he can. I’ll teach you what you need to do.
Now listen closely, Zero-Seven,” Jason turned his gaze to Chris,
“all you have to worry about is running fast and not falling
down. You don’t think. You don’t talk. You don’t do anything
unless Zero-Four tells you. That starts right now. Hand me the
bit, please, Natasha.”
	Natasha eagerly handed over a thick wooden bit wrapped in
leather. Jason made Chris open his mouth and strapped it tightly
in place behind the boy’s head. “We’ll get you harnessed and
reined in a few minutes. Go out to the track and give me three
laps. You need to get used to running on hot ground. I have a few
instructions to give Zero-Four.”
	Chris looked at his twelve-year-old partner for just a moment
then walked out of the pavilion and onto the track. It was hot on
his feet, especially if he stayed in one place too long. He
started running, and instantly felt the butt-plug inside him
touching his special spot. His dick swelled up in the chastity
device. It was really uncomfortable, every step sent a tingle
though his body and the plug kept on pressing his insides. Chris
decided he had to focus on just running around the track and not
think about what was going on in his butt and between his legs.
That proved easier said than done for a thirteen-year-old boy.

	“Come over here, Zero-Four,” Natasha said in Russian. Her
twelve-year-old charge obeyed instantly. She freed his wrists
from their shackles. The ones around his ankles remained. He was
given a pair of thick leather gloves and told to put them on.
	“Those will keep the reins from burning your hands,” Jason
explained.
	Alexei put the gloves on and held out his hands while Natasha
tightened the straps for him. The gloves had holes cut out for
his fingers to stick through so he could still get a good solid
grip. Natasha put kneepads on him, and then a set of elbow pads.
“In case you fall off,” she said. The boy watched as Jason rolled
one of the chariots forward. It was black with red and white
trim, the XB1 logo on the left side panel, the Roman numeral IV
on the right side. The front and side panels all had handgrips on
them wrapped in leather. The two wheels were made of some solid
composite material, painted silver to look like metal. The
chariot seemed to be just the right size for him.
	“Climb up there, boy,” Natasha ordered as Jason held it steady.
	Alexei had to take a big step up to get onto the driver’s
platform. He found himself standing about eighteen inches off the
ground. A few inches under five-feet tall, the twelve-year-old
was suddenly eye-to-eye with his trainers. That was a rather good
feeling. With Jason still holding the chariot steady, Alexei
moved around a bit to test his balance.
	“Pay attention, Zero-Four,” Jason said. The boy stood straight
and still. “Whenever you two race as a team, you’re going to be
the driver. Zero-Seven is your pony. That means you’re in charge
of him from the time you both enter the hippodrome until the
competition is over. If he runs fast and obeys all your commands,
you’ll do well. If he runs slow and doesn’t follow your lead,
you’ll lose. You need to make sure he always obeys, understand?”
       Alexei nodded. “Da. I understand, sir.”
       “If he finishes last, you finish last,” Natasha spoke to
him in their native tongue, “and you both receive the same
punishment. He has to do all the running and all the pulling, but
you have to do all the thinking. You need to learn every inch of
this track.”
       The twelve-year-old nodded. There was a look of serious
concentration on his face. Natasha put a helmet on his head,
styled like those worn by the charioteers of ancient times.
Alexei was quite pleased with it and imagined he must indeed look
like a boy gladiator. “I’m ready,” he announced strongly.
       Jason called Chris back to the pavilion after the boy
finished his third lap. The young teen couldn’t help but smile
when he saw Alexei standing in the chariot with that funny helmet
on his head. He wanted to tell his friend how silly he looked,
but the bit in his mouth kept him from talking.
       “Front and center, Zero-Seven,” Jason ordered sharply.
       Chris stood in front of the chariot, still looking up at
Alexei.
       “Time to put you in your harness,” his trainer said. “Keep
still.”
	Jason selected one of the specially-made harnesses and held it
in front of the thirteen-year-old with a critical eye. “This one
should fit you nice and snug,” he said. The harness was made of
leather and Chris thought it was rather heavy when it was first
placed over his shoulders. Jason adjusted the wide shoulder
straps, which came down to a central ring in the center of the
boy’s chest. The ring had another set of straps that went around
his torso from front to back. Jason pulled these tight so the
harness would not move around on Chris’ body, but not so tight
that the boy would have a hard time breathing once he started
running.
 	Next a thick leather belt went around the boy’s waist and was
pulled taut from behind. It rested just above the boy’s slender
hips.
	“We’re going to chain you to the chariot now, Zero-Seven. Face
forward. Don’t move unless you are told.”
	Chris turned around. His back was now to Alexei and he was
standing about four feet from the chariot. He was between the two
long wooden poles that extended from the front of the two-wheeled
cart. He heard and felt but did not see a series of chains being
fed through the various rings on his harness and belt and
attached to the front of the chariot. The harness had four
attachment points, two at the boy’s shoulders and two in the
center of his back. The belt around his waist had three more
attachment points. After a few minutes of tugging and rather
rough handling by his trainer, Chris found himself tightly
secured to the cart.
	“Pick up the hand-rails,” Jason told him.
	 The thirteen-year-old saw that the two wooden poles had soft
leather strips wrapped around them about six inches from their
ends. He bent down and put his hands around the grips. The
chariot rocked back slightly and as Chris stood up straight
again, he felt just a hint of its weight for the very first time.
This was not going to be easy.
	“Now for the reins,” Jason said. He attached two long leather
straps to the ends of the bit in Christopher’s mouth and handed
them to Alexei. The twelve-year-old took them in his hands and
looked down at his thirteen-year-old partner’s back. Chris was
bound so tightly to the chariot that it was impossible for him to
turn around without getting his chains tangled. The reins were
quite long. Alexei twisted each one around his hands to pull them
taut. Chris could feel the gentle but insistent pressure forcing
his head back.
	“That’s good, Zero-Four,” Natasha said. “Pull his head back a
bit more, keep his eyes forward.”
	Alexei tugged a little harder. Chris stood up as straight as he
could and arched his back. Jason meanwhile connected a series of
wires between the pony boy’s belt and the chariot.
	“Do you see that little button in front of you?” he asked
Alexei.
	The young Russian looked down and saw a tiny box mounted to the
front of the chariot. It had a small black button on it. “Da. I
see it.”
	“Push it.”
	Alexei had seen the wires being attached to Chris’ belt. He had
a good idea what would happen when he pushed that button. “I
don’t want to,” he said softly.
	“Of course you don’t, malchik,” Natasha told him, “but once the
competition starts, you will.”
	Chris tightened his grip on the poles. ‘Just do it, Alexei,’ the
thirteen-year-old thought, already chomping down on the bit in
his mouth. ‘You’re gonna have to anyway.’
	As if reading the older boy’s thoughts, Alexei hovered his
finger over the little button for a few seconds, then pushed it
and held it down.
	Chris jerked against the chains and shouted into his bit. The
electrical current was muted by the leather against his skin, but
it was still sharp and it hurt and it was getting stronger as
Alexei held the button down. Desperate to make it stop, Chris
pulled forward and moved the chariot several feet, groaning and
shouting with every step. Jason and Natasha had to scramble out
of the way to avoid being run over.
	“Let it go!” Jason ordered. Alexei released the button right
away. Chris stopped, dropped the poles and stood there whimpering
and gasping and staring at his trainers in surprise. Jason
ignored the older boy’s distress and continued to focus his
instruction on Alexei. “If he makes a mistake or moves too slow,
use the button to motivate him. The longer you hold it down, the
stronger the shock. He’s not going to want to feel that too
often, so he’s going to try real hard, aren’t you, Zero-Seven?”
	Chris nodded rapidly and wiped his runny nose with the back of
his hand.
	“Get back in position,” Jason ordered him. Thirteen-year-old
Chris gripped the poles in his hands again and stood straight and
still.
	Jason continued the lesson. “When he’s chained to the chariot,
he should always be at attention awaiting your commands. Never
let him drop the poles. If he does, you know what to do.”
       “Da,” Alexei said. “I push the button.”
       “That’s right. If we find you going easy on him, we can
always chain you to the chariot instead.”
       Alexei shook his head and frowned. Up front, Chris smiled
through his bit. He liked that idea a lot. It seemed very unfair
that he should have to be the pony-boy every time, just because
he was a year older and a little bit bigger. But he also knew
this was a competition, and when it came to this particular event
he and Alexei would win or lose together. He was stronger, and he
knew he’d do a better job pulling the chariot than Alexei would.
He tightened his grip on the poles and pulled the two-wheeled
cart and its twelve-year-old pilot forward just a bit.
       “Looks like the little horse is ready to run,” Natasha
observed.
       “When you want him to start moving,” Jason explained,
“flick his reins. When you want him to stop, pull back hard. Pull
left for a left turn, right for right.”
       Alexei was listening very carefully. He wanted to make
sure he got this right.
       “When you go into a turn, you can help him by shifting
your weight the opposite direction. That will keep you from
toppling over and make it easier for him to keep his speed up.”
       “How fast will we go, sir?” Alexei asked.
       “A human being, on level ground, can usually make ten
miles per hour, at a fast pace. Boys your age can go a little
faster than that, for short periods anyway. Of course you and the
chariot together weigh about a hundred-fifty pounds, plus his
harness, belt and chains add another fifteen. Its not going to be
the Kentucky Derby, that’s for sure, but you boys are a lot more
interesting than horses.”
       “The race may not be about who is fastest, malchik,”
Natasha told him in Russian. “Which driver controls his boy best
. . . that is the winning team.”
       “Let’s get them onto the track,” Jason said, “and put
Zero-Seven through his paces.”
	Alexei flicked the reins. Naked and harnessed, Chris grunted and
pulled the chariot forward. Getting the thing moving seemed to be
the hardest part.
	“Take him out to the track, Zero-Four,” Natasha told her young
gladiator.
	Alexei tugged the reins and Chris slowly turned the chariot to
the right, leaving the shade of the pavilion and pulling it onto
the hard-packed dirt track. The starting line was a long strip of
white concrete in the dirt. He stopped with his toes just behind
it. The surface of the track as he stood there chained to the
chariot was blisteringly hot under his feet. More incentive to
move his strong teenaged legs as fast as he could.
	“It’s three-quarters of a mile from the line. Four laps,” Jason
ordered. “Start off slowly until you get your balance.”
	Once again Alexei flicked the reins, harder this time, with a
cry of “Let’s go, Chris!” on his lips. Chris shuffled his feet
for a moment to dig them in, then biting down hard on his bit and
with a loud groan, he pulled the two-wheeled racing cart forward,
picking up speed with each step. In spite of its weight, the boy
discovered that the chariot rolled quite easily. He quickly
figured out that if he leaned forward a bit it didn’t take as
much effort to keep his legs moving.
	Balance was the hardest part for Alexei. Even on the long
straight-aways, the chariot rocked forward and back with each of
Christopher’s steps. When they came to the first turn, the
twelve-year-old pulled on the reins, but forgot to shift his
weight. Chris stumbled and the cart nearly toppled over. Alexei
uttered a curse in his native Russian and pulled back on the
leather reins to slow Chris down.
       As the boys were working out the kinks on their first lap,
the camera crew arrived along with the director. They set up
quickly in an open area along the south straightaway, eager to
get their first footage of the cute naked thirteen-year-old
harnessed and chained to the chariot, trudging along as fast as
he could, while his equally nude twelve-year-old partner drove
him forward.
       Michael Brussard, a veteran of XB1’s programming was quite
pleased with what he saw. The older boy was struggling and
straining, his young muscles were fantastic, and his perfectly
smooth and hairless body glistened in the mid-morning sun. The
look of determination on his face was one that would win
audiences immediately. The smaller boy on the chariot was
starting to get into his role as the older boy’s master, pulling
the reins hard when he needed to and shouting commands at the
young teen in the harness as if he were merely an animal, which
of course, legally speaking, he was.
       “We’ll put this in the teaser spot that airs tomorrow
night,” Brussard told his team. “Make sure you get their faces.
Those expressions are priceless.”
       His two cameramen readily agreed. Brussard looked through
his monitor at the filming in progress. “Looks great. The older
boy is number Zero-Seven. Give me a close up . . . start at his
feet and pan up, slowly . . . that’s good . . . stop at his
middle, let’s see his cock locked up in the chastity cage . . .
good . . . now pan up again, give me a few seconds on his abdomen
. . . kid’s got a six-pack I’d kill for . . . ok, now the face,
closer . . . good . . . good . . . perfect.”
       Neither Chris nor Alexei were aware of the cameras as they
went by. They were both so focused on their roles. After the
first two laps, Alexei got a little braver, and Chris soon
learned that his new friend was not going to hesitate to push the
button whenever he did something wrong or slowed up to catch his
breath.
       Chris shouted into his bit when the electrical current
shocked him. It was just a short burst, but it got his attention.
       “Move closer to the inside,” Alexei ordered, pulling on
the reins for the second time. “We go faster there, right?”
       Chris groaned in agreement.
       “And pay attention next time!” Alexei shouted at him.
       Chris moved down the track and hugged the inside edge.
They did finish their third and fourth laps in almost half the
time of the first two.
       “Good, boys, very good,” Jason said as Alexei yanked hard
on the reins and brought Chris to a stop. “You’ve got the hang of
it already.”
        Natasha tossed Alexei a bottle of water. Jason loosened
the strap that held Chris’ bit in place and let it fall to the
boy’s chest. He held a bottle to the boy’s lips.
        “Just pour it over my head, sir,” Chris said with a tired
smile. It was still embarrassing, being naked and collared and
all that, but this chariot thing was sort of fun in a weird kind
of way. He felt proud knowing he could do it. He was really going
fast on the straight parts of the track.
        “Drink a bit first,” Jason said returning the boy’s grin.
       Chris took five man-sized gulps. Jason obligingly followed
the boy’s request and poured the rest over the young teenager’s
head. Then he forced the bit back into Chris’ mouth and tightened
the straps from behind. He checked the harness and the belt to
make sure they were still snug. “Okay, boys,” he said, swatting
Chris on the behind, “a full race will be fifteen laps. We want
to see how you do on the full distance. Zero-Four, take him out.
I want him running full speed the whole way, understood?”
       Alexei smiled and nodded and rested his right hand over
the button, just in case he needed to give Chris a reminder who
was in charge. He flicked the reins and they took off again down
the track.
       Brussard and his crew filmed for a few more minutes, then
they departed. The first boys would be coming in from the
marathon course shortly and he wanted to be there to capture the
exhaustion on their faces and film every inch of their bruised
and sweaty and vulnerably naked bodies.

Chapter 13:

	The film crew arrived just as David and Josh came in sight of
the arena. The boys were still running as hard and as fast as
they could. They made an appealing sight. David at fourteen, tall
and slim, a classic swimmer’s build, his hairless body tanned a
golden-brown. Eleven-year-old Josh only four-and-a-half feet tall
but all boyish muscle, his body perfectly toned by his years of
wrestling since he was five. David’s strides were long and
graceful, Josh’s quick and seemingly effortless. Only the
grimaces of pain and exhaustion on their young faces indicated
just what an ordeal their morning run had been.
	Just as they reached the arena, Hannah blew her whistle. The
boys stopped abruptly, almost tripping over their shackled feet.
With his legs unable to hold him up, Joshua dropped to all fours,
gasping and panting. David was bent at the waist, his hands
gripping his knees. The heavy chain that bound the two boys
together was swinging between them.
	“Nice running, boys,” Michella said, clicking her stopwatch for
the final time. “We’ll make sure you get more practice out there
tomorrow.”
	Josh and David looked at each other in disbelief.
	“I . . . can’t . . . do it . . . again,” Josh said to the older
boy between gaping breaths.
	“Don’t think I can either,” David admitted.
	“Oh, you’ll do it,” Michella told him, “and you’ll be three
minutes faster, even if you have to carry Zero-Two on your back.”
	“He won’t . . . won’t have to carry me, ma’am,” Josh said. He
was still on his hands and knees and still trying to catch his
breath.
       Hannah knelt in front of him and grabbed a fistful of the
boy’s hair, forcing his head up to face her.  “Look at me, kid.
Do I have your attention?”
       “Yes, ma’am.”
       “Not bad. You’re a strong little animal. That’s good. But
we need to work on your breathing. You were getting real sloppy
those last few miles. That would have cost you if this had been a
real race.”
       “I . . . I kept up with David . . . “Josh protested.
       “Only because he kept slowing down for you. If he does
that again, he’ll be punished. And if I see you flailing around
like that again tomorrow, you’ll be punished, got it.”
       “Yes, ma’am. I am trying real hard, ma’am.”
       “I know. That’s why I’m giving you a break. I’ll teach you
what you need to do. It’s your job to learn it.”
       Josh smiled at her. Hannah couldn’t help but smile back.
The little kid was certainly charming and very cute, she had to
give him that much.
       “Get up. The director wants to talk to you.”
       Still chained by their collars, the boys stood up and saw
the director coming toward them with a cameraman walking close
behind.
       “Look at me, boys, not the camera,” Brussard said, giving
David and Josh their first lesson in reality television. “Never
look into the camera unless someone tells you to. Got it?”
       “Yes, sir,” David said in his crackling adolescent voice.
       “Yes, sir,” Josh repeated in his high boyish soprano.
       “Good. I’ll be interviewing you boys once the competition
starts next week. And we’ll be doing special interviews with you
once or twice a month. The rules are simple and I want you to
learn them right now. Only answer the questions I ask you. No
saying ‘hi’ to your friends back home, or your moms. You’ll be
polite and respectful and you won’t use any bad language when
you’re in front of the camera. You’re all supposed to be good
clean-cut boys, and I expect you to act like it. Little boys
cursing like sailors would be bad for ratings. You can smile if
you want, that’s up to you. Understand so far?”
       The boys nodded sharply.
       “Now lets start with the little guy first. Give me your
first name and your number.”
       Remembering not to look into the camera, Josh grinned and
pointed at his bare chest. “I’m Josh. Boy Zero-Two.”
       “What does your number mean, Zero-Two?” the director
asked.
       “I’m the second youngest boy here, sir,” Josh answered
with easy confidence. “I’m eleven.”
       “And how old is your partner?”
       “I’m fourteen, sir,” David said. “I’m David. Boy
One-Zero.” The fourteen-year-old smirked a bit with pride. “That
means I’m oldest.”
       “Where are you boys from?”
       David naturally took charge of his younger partner and
went first. “Brisbane, Australia,” he answered, his youthful
smile lighting his face as he thought of home.
       “Me I’m from Bowie, Maryland. That’s in the USA,” Josh
chimed in.
       Michael Brussard grinned in satisfaction. These two boys
were naturals in front of the camera. Great smiles and winning
personalities. Hopefully the other eight would be just as
charming. And these two were an adorable pair, their young bodies
perfectly shaped and proportioned for their chosen sports. David
long and lean, Josh small and muscular. Brussard knew without
even checking the files that One-Zero had to be a swimmer, and
his younger counterpart a wrestler. He stood back to admire their
cute earnest faces and attractive athletic youthful builds.
       “You must be Zero-Seven’s brother,” Brussard observed as
his cameraman zoomed in for a close up on young Josh.
       “Yes, sir,” the eleven-year-old said with enthusiasm. “We
both got letters! Chris wasn’t so sure about it, you know, but I
wanted to come here and be a gladiator and stuff,” the boy said,
conveniently forgetting that it was, in fact, his older brother
who had talked him into doing it.
       “So you’re the brave one?”
       Josh blushed, not wanting to be caught in a lie. “Uh . . .
yeah, I guess so. I ain’t scared, that’s for sure. Hey, have you
seen Chris today?”
   	Brussard nodded. “Sure have. He was pulling a chariot when I
left him.”
       Joshua’s eyes got big. “A chariot? Like with a horse and
stuff.”
	“Chris was the horse,” Brussard said with a wicked laugh.
       “Wow!”
       “You two will get your turn on the track before the day’s
out,” the director explained, “I’ll make sure I’m there to film
it.” He was already imagining how One-Zero would look harnessed
and chained to the chariot while his energetic little partner
stood on the cart in his helmet and gloves, reins in hand. David
was the oldest boy gladiator, as evidenced by his rather thick
bush of brown pubic hair, but he was by no means the biggest or
strongest. His best events would be those involving pure speed
and agility. He was definitely going to struggle pulling the
chariot.
       “Good luck, boys,” Brussard said with a friendly wave as
he and his cameraman returned to their four-wheeler and drove off
toward the arena where hand-to-hand combat was on the agenda.
       “Which boys are in the arena, boss?” his cameraman asked,
gazing back at the two naked young gladiators he’d just had the
joy of filming.
       “Schedule says its Zero-Five and Zero-Six. They’re both
twelve so it should be an even match.” He quickly checked his
stat-sheet, updated just that morning. “Zero-five’s a wrestler,
so he’ll have a slight advantage.”
       “He’s the red-head, right?”
       Brussard smiled. “Yep, that’s him. Danny O’Hanlon. He
stands out with that hair, doesn’t he?”
       “Sure does.”
       “You like red-heads, Jack?”
       “Can’t say I’m too particular. But I know a handsome boy
when I see one.”
       “He’s Canadian, you know,” Brussard observed nonchalantly.
“From Hamilton, as a matter of fact. I’m the one who picked him
for this little production.”
       “I guess I know who you’ll be rooting for then.”
       The director gave his partner a look of mock surprise.
“I’m not permitted to display any bias one way or the other.
Can’t play favorites now, can we?”

	On the floor of the arena, Daniel O’Hanlon was busy pinning his
partner for the fourth time. Gabriel Shelton strained to break
free, but aside from the unsportsman-like option of forcing his
knee into Danny’s balls, he knew he was stuck again. The lights
blared down upon two muscular young boys as they writhed about,
and they seemed dwarfed by the cavernous empty stands that
surrounded them. The twelve-year-olds had been freed of their
chains and shackles. Only their iron slave collars remained
around their slender necks. Their chastity devices had been
removed as well, allowing their genitals to bounce around freely
as they grappled and struggled against one another.
	Both boys were circumcised, but young Gabriel’s penis was
considerably larger than Daniel’s, longer and substantially
thicker and decorated with a sparse light dusting of pubic hair.
Red-headed Daniel was still completely bare, and his penis could
only be described as tiny for a boy his age. The two
twelve-year-olds both sported nice plump balls hanging low in
soft pink hairless sacks thanks to the heat and their intense
physical exertion.
Gabriel was also, at the moment, fully erect, although Daniel
didn’t seem to notice.
	“Got you again, Gabe,” he said cheerfully as he sat on the
struggling English lad’s chest. “You really suck at this, don’t
you?”
	“I ain’t never wrestled before,” young Shelton said in his
defense. He was smiling, but there was a fierce look in his eyes.
He hated losing. “Wait’ll I get you on the pitch, then we’ll see
who sucks.”
       “Hah! I don’t think soccer’s on the list, ay, but I’d beat
you at that too!”
       “Balls you would! Now let me up.”
       Danny jumped up and stood over his slightly older partner,
straddling the boy’s middle. It was only then that he noticed
Gabriel’s turgid erection. He laughed and pointed down at it.
       “Hey, your dick’s hard. Didn’t know you loved me so much!”
       “Why are you staring at it?” Gabriel smirked, sitting up
on his elbows. “You wanna suck it or something?”
       “No way!” Daniel shouted, even as he was secretly
wondering what that would be like. He felt his own little dick
twitching just from thinking about it.
       The boys’ attention was quickly diverted from their
misbehaving dicks when their trainers blew their whistles.
Gabriel had been assigned to Roger Bramley, a former star for
Manchester and probably young Gabe’s biggest idol. The
twelve-year-old was at once thrilled and terrified to have the
big powerful forward as his trainer. Daniel was the charge of
Calvin Mayfair, an Olympic decathlete who had already started
Daniel on a strict and exhaustive regimen of physical training
designed to further tone the twelve-year-old’s already trim tight
little body. Calvin required Daniel to run everywhere they went.
This meant that Gabe and Danny were the only pair of boys who
were not routinely chained together.
	Having already learned the hard way to respond instantly to
their trainers’ whistles, the boys stood next to each other at
attention, eyes forward, feet apart, hands behind their heads.
Roger clapped Gabriel on his behind.
       “I guess we know you’re not a wrestler, don’t we?” he
asked with a stern expression.
       “Yes, sir,” the boy answered, somewhat embarrassed at
losing to his partner.
       “Let’s see if you do any better with the pummel.”
       Calvin handed each boy a four-foot long rod with a round
rubber ball at each end. Danny and Gabe held them out in front of
their bodies. The rods were made of a flexible composite and were
very lightweight. The twelve-year-olds would have no problem
handling them.
       “You two are almost the same size, so you’ve got the same
size rods,” Bramley explained.
       “I think my rod is bigger, sir,” Gabriel said with a sly
grin. Daniel jabbed his pummel into Gabe’s side.
       “Very funny, Zero-Six,” Bramley replied. “I wouldn’t be
too proud of that little thing if I were you. And it’s still
halfway hard. Get it down and behave yourself.”
       “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
       Beside a very contrite and still semi-erect Gabriel, young
Daniel was giggling happily. Served Gabe right for making fun of
him.
       “What are we supposed to do with these things, sir?” Gabe
asked.
       “Use your imaginations,” Roger said. “First boy who hits
the ground is the loser. There’s only one place on your bodies
that’s off limits.”
       The boys didn’t need any further explanation on that one.
Daniel wasted no time, taking a broad swing at Gabriel’s chest.
Gabe blocked the blow and quickly landed one of his own on
Daniel’s thigh.
       “Ouch!”
       Danny quickly discovered that the hard rubber balls at the
ends of the rod carried quite a painful sting.
       Gabriel, a little taller and a little stronger than his
younger partner smiled at him. “I think I’m going to like this .
. . a lot!” Two more quick harsh blows were delivered with all of
Gabriel’s twelve-year-old strength, one on Danny’s shoulder, the
other catching him in the side.
       “Dammit!” the young redhead cursed, trying to retaliate
but always being blocked.

       The boys had been going at it for about fifteen minutes
when Brussard arrived with his cameraman. Danny was certainly
getting the worst of it, already covered in bruises, dropping his
pummel twice and having to scramble away as Gabriel chased him
around the arena, shouting wildly and swinging his own rod like
an ancient Saxon warrior.
	“Now that’s what I call boy gladiators,” Brussard said.

	Chris groaned with every step as he pulled the chariot behind
him. Alexei had already driven him through the first fifteen laps
when their trainers demanded ten more. It was hot and sticky.
Sweat dripped from his hair into his eyes. The bit in his mouth
made it hard to swallow correctly and so a steady stream of drool
and spittle was trailing down onto his chest. The
thirteen-year-old had tried to control it at first, but
discovered it was impossible. The bit kept him from closing his
mouth, so he just dug his teeth into it and let nature take its
course. His naked body was filthy. He didn’t think he would have
kicked up so much dust and dirt with just his bare feet and two
wheels behind him, but from the waist down he was covered in a
fine coating of yellow grit and dirt. The track ahead was hazy
with airborne dust, and as he breathed more of it in, his nose
started running. He was miserable. He was a mess. He was also
surprisingly fast and a lot stronger than he ever thought he was.

	He’d done well on the first fifteen laps, keeping his legs
moving at a fast pace. The plug in his butt made it very
humiliating and very uncomfortable, but he was starting to get
used to it. He was still having a hard time getting used to the
plug’s effect on his penis though. It was leaking more now than
it had before he was milked. Even as he pulled the chariot with
Alexei yanking on the reins, Chris had been thinking about his
dick and the chastity cage presently locked around it.
	Alexei used the button just once during the first fifteen laps,
shouting at Chris to speed up and run harder. Now, on the second
set of laps, Chris was really starting to get tired and Alexei
was getting more and more demanding.
	“Come on, Chris,” he yelled from the chariot, snapping the reins
urgently, “we have five more to go. Run or I’ll zap you!”
	‘What’s this ‘we’ shit?’ the thirteen-year-old thought to
himself. Just a little pissed, he jerked forward sharply, trying
to knock Alexei off his platform.
	“Hey!” the twelve-year-old shouted at him, tugging at
Christopher’s reins. “You did that on purpose.” Alexei wasted no
time pressing the button and holding it down.
	Chris shrieked as the electric current shot through the belt and
into his body. He peed himself and took off at a frantic pace, as
if he could somehow outrun the electricity. Pleased with the
results and rather enjoying his control over the older, larger
boy, Alexei administered one shock after another until Chris was
tearing around the track shouting and screaming and crying
hysterically. Alexei held on with all his twelve-year-old might,
shifting his weight to keep the chariot from rolling over.
	“Yessss! Keep running, Chris!” Alexei shouted, having a great
time as the dare-devil pilot of this boy-powered vehicle.
	“Fuck you, Alexei!” Chris growled back, but of course his
intended words were nothing more than unintelligible grunts
thanks to the bit strapped firmly in place around his head.
	The end result of all this was that the boys’ second set of laps
was actually faster than their first. Chris actually couldn’t
stop running when Jason finally called them back to the pavilion.
Alexei had to pull hard on the reins and knock Chris off his feet
for a moment.
	“I think you can stop now,” the young Russian said.
	Chris moaned, dragged himself up off the dirt track and slowly
pulled the chariot under the pavilion roof. The shade felt so
good. He stood there bewildered and exhausted as Alexei hopped
off the two-wheeled cart and received congratulations from their
trainers. They left Chris chained to the chariot, the bit still
strapped in place, while they went over everything that Alexei
did right and the many things he did wrong.
	“But we were fast, right?” the boy asked hopefully.
	“Very,” Natasha said. “Thanks mostly to your pony,” she pointed
at the harnessed boy. “He is very strong. If you can learn to
drive him better, you’ll be even faster. But you did a good job.
No demerits for you.”
	Alexei beamed. He’d already lost points for his erection that
morning, and he’d earned still more demerits for his behavior in
the infirmary, so it was a small victory to know he hadn’t fallen
any further behind.
	“It’s your job to get him unharnessed,” Jason told him. “Start
with the belt, then the chains. You can figure out the rest.
You’re still in charge of him until we leave the track. When the
competition starts next week those stands will be full. They
won’t stop watching you just because your race is over. You’ll
keep him in his bit and harness between races. You can tether him
to one of those posts.” Jason pointed to six wooden posts just
outside the pavilion where the pony-boys would be kept until
their next race. “For now just take everything off him.”
	Alexei followed Jason’s instructions, removing the leather belt
around Chris’ waist and releasing the chains from his harness.
Chris knew he should have been really mad at Alexei for using
that button on him so much, but he was so tired he really didn’t
care. He also felt strangely proud of how fast he’d run.
Everything seemed so confused. He was an indentured slave. He’d
signed the paper himself. Why did he ever do such a crazy stupid
thing? And his parents had gone along with it. He was thousands
of miles away from home. In fact he didn’t even really know where
Gladiator Island was. No one had told him. No one would. He was
wearing an iron collar around his neck and that horrible cage
around his dick. In another week, people all over the world would
be seeing him naked, doing all sorts of dangerous and painful
things. If he messed up, he’d be punished, and he already had a
taste of how rough that would be. It was all terrible, a boy’s
worst nightmare, but somehow Chris was really excited about
everything. It was going to be a big adventure. A chance to test
himself and prove himself against all these other boys and
against everything and anything Gladiator Island was going to put
him through.
  	“We are still friends, right?” Alexei asked quietly, starting
to feel a little ashamed about how he’d behaved.
	“Da,” Chris said, the only Russian word he’d managed to pick up
so far. It felt good to be out of the harness and no longer
chained to the chariot. He was amazed how heavy all that stuff
had been and how quickly he’d learned to manage wearing it all.
The thirteen-year-old stretched his arms over his head and arched
his back. He was already sore and tired and it was still morning.
His stomach was growling.
	‘Must be getting close to lunch time,’ he thought, before
remembering that he was only fed two times a day. His next meal
was yet hours and hours away. He rubbed his belly with a forlorn
look in his eyes.
	“You better get used to feeling hungry, boy,” Jason told him as
he and Alexei were chained together once again. “Don’t worry, you
won’t starve. It’ll just feel like it most of the time.”
	“Thanks for telling me,” Chris replied smartly.
	Jason gave the young teen a sharp smack on his cute little naked
butt. “Smart-ass. Let’s go. You two are up next in the pool.”
	Chris might have been happy about that, but he’d already seen
Illya and Ian with those weights around their waists, wrists and
ankles. This was going to be a swim like none the boy had ever
tried before. Somehow he didn’t think he was going to be enjoying
it all that much.

Chapter 14:

	Daniel O’Hanlon was crawling on his hands and knees across the
floor of the arena trying to get away from Gabriel. He’d long
since abandoned any attempt at actually defending himself and
decided that making Gabe chase him would at least give him a
chance to catch his breath and maybe think up some new strategy.
His nose and mouth were bloody, his right eye was blackened, and
his smooth hairless body was covered with angry red marks that
were already turning to dark deep bruises.
	Gabriel had more than made up for his poor skills at wrestling.
He was only three inches taller than Daniel, but he was a lot
stronger and completely tireless. He was used to running full
speed across a football pitch for ninety minutes at a time. The
twelve-year-old wasn’t even winded, and aside from a dark bruise
on his thigh where Danny had landed his first and only hit, there
was not a mark on the boy’s lean athletic frame.
	“Just quit, Danny,” Gabe said as he landed his pummel across the
backs of the young red-head’s thighs. “They won’t let me stop
hitting you until you give up.”
	Daniel crawled away again. He knew Gabe was right, but he wasn’t
ready to admit it. He couldn’t understand how he’d ended up in
this mess. When the two of them wrestled, Gabe hadn’t shown any
quickness or agility at all, he was slow and clumsy and all arms
and legs. Daniel couldn’t possibly imagine it might have just
been from the fact that his partner had never actually wrestled
before. He’d never heard of such a thing. After all, wrestling
was his life. Didn’t every one know how to do it? Based on that
innocent boyish thinking, it came as a great shock to him when
Gabriel proved so handy with the pummel stick. In the few seconds
it took him to learn that important lesson, he was already on his
heels.
	On the other end of the stick, Gabriel was quite pleased with
himself. He’d done so badly at the wrestling bit, he really
needed to show his trainer and everyone else that he was every
bit the boy gladiator his partner was. He was the only football
player here. There were three wrestlers, three swimmers, a diver,
a gymnast, and little Miles, his fellow Englishman, was a
terrific young runner. Gabriel was the only boy who played an
exclusively team sport, and the only one who didn't have boxes
full of trophies with his name engraved on them. He’d been
feeling a little self-conscious about it. At least this was one
thing he’d be good at: beating the crap out of the other boys.
	He hit Daniel again, this time in the ribs. The blow knocked the
twelve-year-old wrestler on his side. Daniel didn’t try to get
away. He was done and he knew it.
	“Okay, okay! I give,” he said.
	Gabriel used his foot and rolled Daniel over onto his back. He
rested one of the round ends of the pummel on the Canadian boy’s
chest and stood there triumphantly.
       “You win, Gabe,” Daniel said, wiping blood from his nose.
       Their trainers were quickly beside them. Up until now they
had simply watched and let the boys fight, offering shouts of
encouragement and little else.
       “Fine job, Zero-Six,” Roger said. “Five bonus points for a
good fight.”
       “And as for you,” Calvin frowned, staring down at his
vanquished and bloodied boy, “get on your knees.” Daniel
instantly complied and knelt there in front of the two trainers
and the victorious boy. He bowed his head ashamed, expecting to
be given demerits for getting his ass kicked so badly.
       “You lost, but you didn’t exactly quit,” Calvin
proclaimed. “No demerits for you, but here in the arena, boys who
lose do get punished.”
       “Yes, sir,” Daniel muttered softly.
       Calvin turned his eyes to Gabriel who was still holding
the rod. “Give his balls a good shot, Zero-Six.”
       “What, sir?”
       “You heard me. He has to pay the price for losing.”
       “But he lost when we wrestled,” Daniel said, glaring at
Gabriel, his voice suddenly very high. He was looking up at them
with fear in his eyes. This was totally unfair.
       “Zero-Six is not my responsibility,” Calvin said, smacking
Danny on the back of the head. “You are. And you get punished
every time you lose.”
       Gabriel wasn’t sure what to do. Danny was right. He’d lost
and lost bad when the two of them wrestled, but nothing happened
to him. He looked at his own trainer, not sure if he should
defend his partner or not.
       “I’ve got something else in mind for you, Zero-Six,” Roger
Bramley said sternly. “Now do as you’re told . . . or I’ll give
your balls a good whack.”
       Young Gabriel looked down at his fellow twelve-year-old.
Daniel did have a very small cock, but his balls were fairly
average for a boy his age, two grape-sized orbs dangling
vulnerably in a soft hairless bag. They would certainly be an
easy target. “I’m real sorry, Danny,” Gabriel said.
       “I think I’m the one who’s gonna be sorry,” Daniel
replied.
       “How . . . how hard should I hit him, sir?” Gabriel asked
his trainer.
       “Just give the pummel a good swing, kid.”
       “OK.”
       Gabriel moved so he was standing to one side. In this
position it would be a lot like swinging a cricket bat, a game he
was quite familiar with but not very good at. Danny’s eyes were
locked on him the whole time.
       “Here we go . . .”
       He swung easily and lightly. The end of the pummel did
make contact with Danny’s dangling sack, but it was barely a tap,
just enough to set the twelve-year-old’s balls swinging between
his legs. Danny still screamed his little red head off, simply
out of fear.
       “That wasn’t good enough, Zero-Six,” Calvin said with
almost cold detachment, “and you can stop screaming, boy, he
barely touched you. Do it again.”
       “Yes, sir,” Gabe said softly. There was no way either of
them were getting out of this, so he might as well just do it.
Danny looked at him and his expression told him his partner was
thinking the same thing.
       “Just hit ‘em, Gabe. I can take it. I’m a gladiator,
right?”
       Gabriel held the end of the pummel against Danny’s balls.
Danny’s chest was rising and falling in rapid nervous breaths,
the muscles in his tight lean torso all clenching. He bit his lip
and closed his eyes. Gabriel bit his lip too and drew the pummel
back. He hesitated for a few seconds. As a football player from
Liverpool he’d certainly been in his share of scraps, and he’d
kicked and been kicked by more boys than he could count, but this
was different. He’d already beaten Danny, beaten him good. Having
to do this while the other boy just stayed there on his knees
didn’t seem right.
       But he also wasn’t about to get demerits for disobeying
his trainer. He wasn’t here to be nice. He was here to win.
       He swung the pummel hard this time and smashed it into his
fellow twelve-year-old’s defenseless dangling balls.
       Danny’s brown eyes shot open. His mouth dropped, but at
first he made no sound. A split second later he found his voice
and shrieked in agony. The boy’s high-pitched scream echoed
around the empty arena. Daniel grabbed his balls and curled
himself up on the arena floor, clutching his hands desperately
between his legs. He fought the urge to cry. It was the last
thing he wanted to do, especially in front of his trainer. Calvin
knelt down beside him and whispered something into his ear,
running his hand softly through the boy’s red hair. Daniel slowly
got back to his knees and then stood up, still holding his hands
between his legs. His eyes were wet, but he hadn’t cried.
       “What’s next?” he asked, trying to pretend he didn’t care
how much it hurt.
       “The chariot,” his trainer answered. “You’ll get a chance
to get even once you two are on the track.”
	 Roger blew his whistle and the two twelve-year-olds quickly
stood at attention, hands behind their heads, legs spread wide
apart. Their trainers put the boys back into their chastity
devices and locked them in place. Daniel protested quietly.
	“But my balls still hurt, sir,” he said as Calvin snapped the
padlock closed.
	“Let me see them,” his trainer replied, kneeling down and
resting Daniel’s testicles in the palm of his hand. The boy’s
scrotum was an angry shade of red, but that seemed to be the
extent of the damage. Calvin gently rolled the twelve-year-old’s
balls between his fingers. Daniel gasped and hissed and stood up
on his toes, but it really wasn’t all that bad. “They’re going to
be hurting a lot from now on, Zero-Five, so you might as well get
used to it. It won’t kill you. Just keep taking deep breaths like
I told you. They’ll feel better soon.”
 	They were already feeling better actually. Daniel had simply
hoped he might get out of wearing the chastity device for a
little bit longer. No such luck. The redheaded boy was ordered to
run to the hippodrome and wait for them.
	“You can run with him this time, Zero-Six,” Roger Bramley said.
“You two are on your honor. Go straight there and don’t mess
around.”
	The two boys stood side by side and smiled at each other. A few
brief moments of freedom without anyone shouting at them or
telling them what to do.
	“Race ya?” Gabriel challenged.
	Daniel nodded slowly. “On three.”
	Gabriel dug his feet in, ready for a fast start. “Set.”
	“One . . . two . . . “ Danny abruptly took off in a flash.
“Three!” he shouted behind him as he ran out of the arena on his
shapely well-toned legs.
	“You are so dead, cheater!” Gabriel hissed as he stumbled to
catch up.
	Roger and Calvin smiled at their two spirited young gladiators.
Neither of them were the biggest, or the fastest, or the
strongest, but they were both smart, and both fierce and fearless
competitors. With discipline and training, they would both hold
their own quite well.
	As the two men walked leisurely toward the hippodrome they
shared notes on the boys’ performances. “Did you notice that
Daniel did not have a single erection while the chastity cage was
off?” Roger observed.
	“I did,” Calvin responded, somewhat curious about that himself.
“He wasn’t hard this morning either. In fact he was the only
one.”
	“Gabriel was stiff the whole time they were wrestling. Did you
see the way that boy’s cock was leaking? Little hornball.”
	“Young Danny doesn’t seem to get horny at all. He told me last
night that he doesn’t masturbate.”
       “And you believed him?” Roger laughed incredulously.
       “Actually I did. I think he’s just a very late bloomer. He
is still completely pre-pubescent as far as I know. And his penis
is rather small.”
	“Maybe you should put him in a chastity belt like the younger
boys wear. The cock cage does seem a bit big for him.”
	“That would be very humiliating for him . . . being grouped with
the little ones.”
	“And how is that a bad thing? These boys are meant to be
humiliated as much as possible. I love the idea.”
	Calvin smiled wickedly. “So do I. I’ll make the switch tonight
in the barracks so everyone can see it."

	In the medical suite, Philippe Dulac was on his hands and knees,
sobbing miserably as the machine coaxed yet another thick glob of
sperm from his aching frustrated fourteen-year-old penis. The
French boy did not have as much between his legs as the other
young teens in the group, a soft three inches that blossomed to a
nice gently curved five-inch erection. It was a delicate and
beautifully shaped appendage whose growth had simply not caught
up with the rest of him. His balls were another matter entirely.
Large, plump and heavy, the biggest among all the boys and
currently the source of young Philippe’s anguished groans as they
dangled low between his legs, being methodically and cruelly
drained by the relentless machine.
	The teenaged boy’s cock was strapped into the milking sheath,
and the largest of the vibrating plugs was stuffed firmly up his
butt. At first he’d rather enjoyed it. The machine had induced a
powerful erection in the boy, and just like Chris before him,
he’d assumed he would soon be having an amazing mind-blowing
orgasm. The realization that he could not and would not cum, that
the machine would not let him, dawned on him very slowly.
Naturally none of the boys had ever experienced a milking, or
even understood what it was until they were forced to endure it.
Philippe was learning this lesson now, much to his extreme
distress and misery.
	“Ah, god,” he said in fractured English, “why can’t I . . .
aaggh . . . oh no, not again . . . “
	Yet another batch of the teenaged boy’s pure white seed had just
spilled from his now only semi-erect penis and was being
relentlessly sucked down the clear plastic tube. The vibrating
plug in his anus slowed just enough to allow the boy’s fluid to
flow out of his dick without inducing a spontaneous ejaculation.
Just a few seconds later it was pulsing again, rapidly and
strongly, stimulating the boy’s already overactive adolescent
prostate.
	“Please, miss,” he moaned to Karin who was standing beside him,
“please make it stop. I can’t have another one . . . I can’t . .
. “
	His French-accented English was so endearing. Karin was actually
quite taken with the handsome youngster. He had a winning smile,
dark soulful eyes that made him seem almost exotic, and of course
a lean and coltish young body. He was now completely smooth, his
once soft wispy bush of pubic hair washed away forever. It was
the only hair he’d ever had on his slender five-foot-four-inch
frame.
	“We have to keep going, Zero-Nine,” Karin said tenderly. “We
have to get all that nasty sperm out of you. Won’t that feel
better,” she continued, gently caressing the boy’s balls, “when
these things are nice and empty the way they should be.”
	“Yes, miss,” Philippe agreed rather half-heartedly.
	On the table next to Philippe, ten-year-old Miles Harris was
also on his hands and knees, attached to the boy-milking machine
in the same manner. His experience however was proving to be
quite different and, if possible, far more agonizing.
	The machine had a special setting for pre-pubescent boys who
could not yet ejaculate. Unlike Philippe who was not being
permitted to have even a single orgasm, young Miles was being
forced to have one shattering dry orgasm after another, often in
such rapid succession that it was impossible to distinguish when
the last one ended and the next one began. The tiny metal sheath
that encased the naked ten-year-old’s penis was barely two inches
long. The vibrating plug in his cute little butt was the smallest
one available but more than large enough to stimulate the boy’s
immature prostate.
	Miles had never actually considered the fact that something
could be put in his butt. In his sexually innocent ten-year-old
mind things only came out of that particular hole. He naturally
had no knowledge of that tiny gland inside his body and how
easily it could be used to make him have these powerful dizzying
things called orgasms. The first one he’d had while on that table
was the first one he’d ever had in his whole life. He was amazed
and terrified the first time it happened, he screamed and shouted
and started to cry, certain something had gone terribly wrong
deep inside his little body. But then, after the fear passed, and
a quick reassuring lesson in boy’s anatomy from Doctor Trench, he
began to enjoy them, at least at first. It is generally known
that the dry orgasm experienced by pre-pubescent boys is uniquely
agonizing in spite of its immense pleasure. When the pre-pubertal
boy is forced to have several of them in a short period of time,
it can easily become torturous for him.
	That was what young Miles was experiencing at the moment.
Pleasure so intense, so blinding, so mind-numbing, so without
release and without relief that it was actually terrible. Miles
Harris was being methodically tortured by his own orgasms. His
young body was trying desperately to climax, but his testicles
were still dormant, his little penis would pulse and throb and
strain, he would gasp and pant and every muscle in his body would
clench uncontrollably, and then it would start all over again.
And so he cried and wailed and sobbed, unable to understand how
something could feel so amazingly good and so horribly bad at the
same time.
	“How many orgasms has Zero-One had in the last hour, Anna?”
Doctor Trench asked as the boy let out another series of frantic
hysterical squeals and squeaks.
	“It’s hard to tell for sure, doctor,” the young aide replied.
“I’d say at least twelve. Is that high?”
	“If we were stimulating him by hand, yes. But for a ten-year-old
on this particular machine, not at all. Actually the exact number
is probably closer to twenty at the moment. Several of them have
occurred too rapidly to distinguish them.”
	Anna stared at the little naked ten-year-old in amazement.
Twenty orgasms. How was this kid even still conscious?
	“Check his pulse-rate, please,” the doctor instructed. “We don’t
want his little heart to give out. It is actually possible to
kill a pre-pubescent boy on this machine.”
	“Really?”
	“There are two documented cases that I know of. Both of the boys
were slaves of course, both under the age of eleven. We may be
entering dangerous territory with him.”
	Anna made a quick check of Miles’ pulse, placing her finger over
the inside of the boy’s wrist. Miles stared at her with glazed
eyes. “It’s racing, doctor. And his breathing is starting to get
erratic.”
	“Lower the settings on the machine, dear,” Trench instructed.
“Bring him down slowly.”
	The ten-year-old couldn’t see the adjustments being made, but he
felt their results almost immediately. The pulsating of the metal
sheath around his penis finally stopped. His cute little two-inch
boner, which he’d had for the last hour, at last began to
deflate. The vibrating thing in his butt was also going slower.
Miles took a deep breath and then let out a sigh of relief. Anna
reached under him and released the straps that held the sheath in
place. Venturing a curious look at the boy-parts between his
legs, Miles saw that his little pickle was once again soft and
slender. Only now it was very red and very sore. And his balls,
which normally were drawn up close to his body, were currently
dangling in his soft little sack, two tiny almonds in a thin
fleshy bag.
	“Take a deep breath, cutie,” Anna told him as she began to pull
the vibrating plug from the ten-year-old boy’s butt.
	Miles gasped sharply and let out a little squeak of protest. It
hurt almost as much coming out as it had going in.
	Keeping the boy on his hands and knees, Anna put the chastity
belt back on him, making sure his little penis was properly
constrained inside the metal plate so he could not have any
erections. She pulled the belt snug around his slim waist, pulled
the strap up under his legs and over his adorable little
butt-crack and then attached the two padlocks. The ten-year-old’s
genitals were once again locked away, neither to be seen nor
touched by their unfortunate little owner.
	At the other table, Karin and the doctor where finishing up with
Philippe, removing the vibrating prostate probe and locking him
into his chastity cage. The fourteen-year-old was busy rubbing
the tears from his eyes. He was humiliated and ashamed of himself
for crying, but he was certainly not the first teenaged boy to
break down in tears on the milking machine, and he was not going
to be the last.
	“Alright,” the doctor said to her enthusiastic young aides,
“that’s four boys down, six to go. Let’s get these two plugged
and drugged and on their way.”

	By the time the boys were returned to the barracks for their
evening meal, all of them had experienced their first visit to
the infirmary and their first hour on the milking machine. Each
of the teams had completed the marathon course, taken their laps
at the hippodrome, survived a grueling challenge at the pool
(except for young Miles who had yet to have his first swimming
lesson), and beaten their partners senseless in the main arena.
They were tired, bruised, sore, dirty and generally miserable,
yet the barracks was a lively place as they sat at the long table
and ate their dinner.
	 Every one of the boys had a butt plug inside him, causing each
of them to squirm uncomfortably on their seats. None of them were
too happy about having those things stuffed in their rear ends.
For Miles and Josh, who could not yet ejaculate, and Daniel and
Ian, who were as yet producing only tiny amounts of clear semen,
the plugs were mostly just a humiliating nuisance, a painful
reminder of their new status as slaves. They perhaps felt a mild
arousal from the constant stimulation of their still immature
prostates, but mostly they just felt full and embarrassed.
	It was quite different for the older boys. The plugs in their
butts, combined with the chastity devices locked around their now
perfectly hairless genitals, resulted in six very leaky boy-cocks
and six very frustrated young teens. Milking the boys had done
very little to relieve their intense adolescent sexual needs.
	When they’d all first returned to the barracks, the less
developed boys took a certain amount of delight in teasing and
taunting the older ones about the loss of their pubic hair.
David, Philippe, Chris, Alexei, Gabe, and even little
eleven-year-old Ian, had all woken up that morning with hair
around their dicks. Now it was gone, leaving their young bodies
completely hairless. Its absence was particularly striking on the
two fourteen-year-olds who’d arrived on the island each with a
fairly thick patch between their slender shapely legs. Josh took
particular interest in pointing out Christopher’s smooth bare
pubis. He’d been at first exceedingly curious and then
exceedingly jealous when Chris sprouted his first sparse hairs
down there, back when he was twelve. Chris for his part had made
a rather big deal of it, teasing his brother for still being a
little kid while, he, clearly, was already a man. ‘Men have
hair,’ he’d told Josh at the time, ‘and boys don’t. So what does
that make me?’
	‘I dunno. An asshole with hair?’
	Naturally Josh had spent the next half-hour running through the
house with his brother chasing after him. Now, the two brothers
were once again equal, at least in that particular department.
	“Now you look just like me, Chris!” Josh had chirped happily
when Chris, chained by his collar to twelve-year-old Alexei, was
marched into the barracks.
	“Shut up, squirt,” Chris said. After the initial humiliation of
having it removed, the boy was actually starting to enjoy how it
felt to be smooth and hairless again. It seemed to make his cock
and balls look bigger, and that was certainly a plus in the
thirteen-year-old’s estimation. But he wasn’t about to let his
little brother give him a hard time.
	Of all the boys, only Illya Casparev was left out of the
teasing. The thirteen-year-old had a huge dick, a long fat
six-inch tube of boyflesh that swung comically between his legs
when it wasn’t locked away in the chastity cage, but he had yet
to develop any pubic hair. So he was neither teased for having
lost it, nor a teaser of those who did since he didn’t have any
to begin with. He sat quietly at the table, eating rapidly and
darting his hazel eyes around the table.
	Talk amongst the boys turned to the milking machine. Most of
them gave an involuntary shiver at the mere thought of it.
	“That totally sucked, mates,” David said to the others. “I mean
I wanted to cum so bad. I wished I could’a . . . “ the handsome
fourteen-year-old got nods of sympathy and whole-hearted
agreement, from all that is but Miles and Josh. Their experiences
on the machine had been quite the opposite.
	“And I wished I could’a stopped cumming!” Josh exclaimed.
	“Yeah,” Miles added, not wanting the conversation to pass him
by. Being the youngest and smallest in every way was not an easy
thing to be, and he didn’t want them forgetting he was there.
“Doc said I must’a had like twenty-two organisms before she
turned it off.”
	“Orgasms,” Gabriel said, rolling his eyes and jabbing the
ten-year-old in the ribs.
	“That’s what I said.”
	Josh gave Miles a look of camaraderie. He’d finished up with
eighteen mind-bending dry orgasms by the time the machine shut
down. He never even knew his body could be forced to do that, or
that anything that felt so good could end up being so terrible.
The eleven-year-old had decided that even if they took the belt
off him right now, he would not dare touch his dick.
	“I thought that thing was gonna suck my balls out through my
cock,” Chris said, getting a round of loud boyish laughter from
everyone.
	Some debate was held as to which event, so far, was the most
difficult. Daniel, Josh, and Ian voted for swimming. Aside from
Miles, who hadn’t participated, they were the three smallest and
lightest boys, so having to do all those laps with lead weights
strapped around their arms, thighs and waists proved very
unpleasant and just a little frightening. Naturally the five boys
who had ended up pulling the chariots unanimously chose the
hippodrome track as the worst. Alexei didn’t like the marathon
course very much, mostly because it was the last thing he and
Chris had done and he was already exhausted before they even
started. Miles voted for the marathon as well, since he was
pretty much dragged from one side of the island to the other by
Philippe.
	“You promised you would keep up,” the French boy said, feeling
rather guilty about what a beating the little kid had taken
during their afternoon run.
	“I tried,” the spirited ten-year-old replied in his own defense.
Of course he’d taken his opportunity for revenge as he piloted
the chariot and forced the older boy around the track. He rather
enjoyed pushing the button and watching Philippe shriek and
scramble forward, helplessly harnessed and chained to the cart.
	 The trainers returned just as the boys were wiping down the
table and sweeping the floor. Keeping the barracks clean was
their responsibility.
	“Alright, boys,” Jason Sanborne called, “line up. Toes on the
black stripe.” He pointed to a long black line painted on the
floor.
	The ten boy gladiators scurried about for a few seconds but
quickly formed a straight line facing the large tally board at
the front of the room, their cute little boyfeet precisely
positioned on the black stripe. The naked boys took up their
already well-practiced stance, clasping their hands behind their
heads and spreading their feet wide apart. They stood silently
waiting, their eyes forward.
	The tally board had been there since the boys first entered the
barracks the day before, but it had been blank. It was
electronic, and now it was active, each boy’s number and name in
glowing letters. Some boys’ names were in blue, some in were
yellow, most were in red. Some boys had positive numbers after
their names, some had negative numbers and some had a single
letter ‘E’.
	“Look at the board, boys,” Sanborne ordered. “These are your
scores so far. Worldwide Boy Gladiators does not officially begin
until next week, but we started keeping score the moment you were
taken off the plane. Boys in blue have positive points.”
	Gabriel Shelton and Illya Casparev were the only two who fit
that category at the moment. They both smiled.
	“Boys in yellow are even as of right now.”
	That was Chris, Gabriel, and David, who all seemed relieved not
to be on the bottom of the pack.
	“Boys in red have negative points.”
	Josh, Miles, Alexei, Daniel and Philippe all saw their names in
red. Josh, with a negative 15 points, was dead last, much to his
dismay.
	“Man, I’m last already and it ain’t even a whole day yet.” It
was mostly because of the ten points he lost because of his
erection that morning.
	The other boys chuckled, but the scores were close. The boys in
first place could find themselves in last without even trying.
	“I’m going to give you boys some advice,” Jason continued. “The
only time you should worry about this scoreboard as at the end of
the week. If you try to get bonus points, or try not to get
penalties, you’ll just mess up even more. Try your best.
Somebody’s going to be the loser each week. That’s just a fact.
Sooner or later it’s going to be you. Now, pair up.”
	“Yes, sir!” the boys shouted in unison. They found their
partners quickly and remained at attention while they were
chained together. Their trainers marched them out of the
barracks. Evening on the island was not unpleasant. The sun was
still shining, but it had lost its sweltering midday strength.
There was a breeze blowing in off the ocean. The boys all
breathed in deeply. They were taken to the arena and down into
the holding area. There the chains were removed and each boy was
given a set of knee and elbow pads and a soft rubber mouth guard.
The boys strapped the pads in place quickly, and then ran up the
stairs through the boys’ entrance and found themselves on the
arena floor.
	The lights were low. The trainers were nowhere to be seen, but
scattered on the floor were pummels, nets, heavy rubber balls and
maces, leather whips, ropes and chains. The boys all stood there
in silence, not sure what was expected of them.
	Suddenly the lights came up, bright and blazing, illuminating
the arena floor. A voice boomed out from above. “Melee! Last boy
standing gets twenty points! Show no mercy!”

 Chapter 15:
	
	For the first few seconds, the boys all stood around staring at
each other with puzzled expressions on their faces. In the less
than forty-eight hours since they’d been taken from their homes,
the ten young gladiators had already become accustomed to having
every moment of their lives regimented, disciplined and
controlled. Now suddenly they were being set loose . . . upon
each other. None of them quite had any idea what they should do.
	Finally it was Josh who decided he’d better do something. He
didn’t want to get more demerits from his trainer for standing
around. He scurried away from the other boys and picked up one of
the maces. It was simply a shorter version of the pummels they’d
already used on each other, with a leather-wrapped hand-grip at
one end and mean looking rubber sphere at the other. The sphere
had a bunch of rounded metal spikes all around it. It wouldn’t
cut into a boy’s skin, but it would bruise him real bad. Josh
liked the weight of it and its length. It was much easier for him
to handle than the long pummel sticks. He swung it back and forth
and then stopped, one hand on his hip, his head cocked in an
adorable fashion.
	“Why’s everybody standing around?” he asked. “Let’s do this!”
	Not wanting to be outdone by his little brother, Chris grabbed
one of the pummels, which he’d been quite good at against Alexei.
The other boys quickly followed, each picking a weapon for
themselves. Eleven-year-old Ian showed some unfortunate
indecision and ended up with one of the two nets, as all the
other items were gone by the time he found his courage.
	“What the hell am I supposed to do with this?” he shouted to the
others.
	The first thing he had to do was duck and run away as Josh tried
to clobber him with his mace. The second thing he did was realize
that his net had little lead weights attached to it. He swung it
at Josh and wrapped it around his fellow eleven-year-old’s knees.
The third thing he did was pull as hard as he could.
	Josh hit the ground hard, his legs still tangled in the net.
	“Cool!” Ian declared, suddenly finding his choice of weaponry
not so bad. Josh wiggled and rolled and managed to get himself
free an instant later, but Ian and his tricky net would prove a
continuing menace to all the boys.
	 Even though they’d been together on the island for less than
forty-eight hours, an unspoken hierarchy was already developing
amongst the boys. They were all terrific athletes, all with
gorgeous trim young bodies, and all of above average
intelligence, but they seemed to have an instinctive
understanding of who among them were going to turn out to be the
strongest and who were, at least potentially, the weakest. Among
the five oldest boys, Chris and David were seen to be the
toughest competition, certainly the two swimmers were already
viewing each other that way. With the younger boys, Josh (in
spite of all his demerits) and Gabriel were viewed by their
age-mates as the biggest threats. As a diver, all be it one of
almost-Olympic caliber, young Philippe was largely dismissed by
the others, as was Illya, who in spite of his man-sized cock was,
after all, a gymnast, which most of the boys considered a girly
sport. None of the boys took ten-year-old Miles very seriously at
all.
	It came as no surprise then that David, Chris, Josh and Gabriel
were targeted early and often by the other six boys, and mostly
in that particular order. There was no real coordination at
first, just a silent understanding that those four boys needed to
be taken out fast if the other six hoped to stand a chance of
being the last one on his feet. As the melee continued though, it
was clear that Josh had made some sort of private boyish pact
with Ian and Miles, giving him two much needed allies against the
older boys. The three pre-teens quietly agreed not to attack each
other but instead spend their energies together going after their
larger, stronger opponents, all the while defending each other.
	Thirteen-year-old Illya was the first boy they dispatched. Ian
tripping him with his net, Josh and Miles pounding him senseless
with their pummels, until he was pleading with them to stop. But
all the boys knew by now that nothing stopped on Gladiator Island
until it suited those in charge. Illya was nicely covered in
angry bruises when a loud voice boomed out once again from above.
	“Boy Zero-Eight. You are eliminated! Leave the arena and go
below.”
	Sore and exhausted, and rather scared about what punishment
might befall him for the being the first one eliminated, Illya
dragged himself to his feet and marched as bravely as he could to
the holding room beneath the arena floor. There he was stripped
of his knee and elbow pads. His chains were again attached to the
shackles around his wrists and ankles. A ball-gag was shoved into
his mouth and strapped tightly around his head. Boys did not
speak in this particular room. He was then marched to the
whipping post, his arms fastened above his head and given ten
hard lashes across his back for failure. With silent tears
streaming down his cheeks, the boy was then unceremoniously put
into one of the holding cages. His trainer, who also happened to
be his older brother, chained the thirteen-year-old’s collar to
the bars and locked the door.
	On the arena floor, the chaos continued. Gabe and Philippe were
trading blows with pummels, each determined to bring the other
boy down. There was only a one-inch difference in their height
despite almost two years between them. The fourteen-year-old
Philippe however outweighed twelve-year-old Gabe by more than ten
pounds. Diving had made the French teen lithe and agile, with
superior balance and coordination. It was only young Gabe’s
fierce brawling spirit that allowed him to stand toe to toe with
the older boy. They were so focused on each other that neither
boy took notice when the young trio of Ian, Josh and Miles closed
in around them. Miles picked up two of the rubber balls that had
so far been ignored by everyone else. With a wicked grin he flung
the first one at Philippe’s chest, the second at Gabriel’s legs.
	“Ouch! Dammit!” Gabriel shouted as the ball smacked against his
thigh. He dropped his pummel in surprise and scurried away from
the ambush.
	Left momentarily breathless by the sneak attack, young Philippe
stood there defenseless, mouth agape, trying to figure out what
just happened. Ian’s net was around his slim waist a split second
later. Next thing the teenaged boy knew he was on his back with
three pre-teens on top of him, beating him with clenched fists.
	Gabriel knew he needed allies and he needed them fast. He ran
round to where Chris and David where battling with the rubber
maces. David’s nose was bloody. Chris’ lip had been split. The
naked boys stood face to face, their feet spread wide apart,
maces in hand, slowly circling each other, each waiting for the
other to show a moment of weakness. Twelve-year-old Gabriel ran
directly between them, raising his hands for a momentary truce.
	“The little ones,” he said between gaping breaths, “they’re
working together . . . “
	The official voice boomed out again. “Boy Zero-Nine. You are
eliminated! Leave the arena and go below.”
	The pack of pre-adolescents allowed a beaten and crying Philippe
to get to his hands and knees. They forced him to crawl all the
way to the stairs, taunting and kicking him. The fact that
Philippe was his partner did nothing to spur even a moment of
mercy from little Miles. He figured they would all be brutal to
him whenever he was down, so he might as well get in as many
licks as he could now.
	“Take that, you cheese-eating surrender monkey!” Miles shouted
as he mercilessly kicked the one boy on the island who might
actually be interested in looking out for him. That sort of
thinking however was a little beyond the capacity of a naked
ten-year-old thrust into a wild and winner-take-all battle of
strength and courage.
	Chris and David meanwhile had taken notice of Gabriel’s warning.
The relentless little pack had turned its attention to Alexei,
who was currently running away as fast he could.
	“Those little shits!” Chris said.
	David nodded his agreement. The thought of losing to Chris, or
Illya or even Philippe was unpleasant enough, the thought of
losing to one of the little ones was absolutely intolerable.
“They are totally dead. Right now.”
	“Do we team up, guys?” Gabriel asked, seeing a lot of advantages
in making friends with these two older boys.
	Chris and David nodded, both privately thinking they would knock
Gabriel into next week as soon as they’d taken care of the little
squirts.
	“Josh is mine!” Chris shouted as the three remaining eldest boys
rushed over to where young Alexei was being dragged feet-first by
Josh and Ian to the open stairway.
	David set his sights on Ian, his fellow Aussie. Gabriel
retrieved his pummel along the way and figured he would have no
troubling giving Miles a good thrashing with it.

	Mike Brussard looked out from behind the camera. “Here they
come,” he said to his crew through his headset. “This is going to
be good. Make sure you get close-ups. I want to see their faces.”
	The film crew had set up their cameras during the afternoon.
There were two on the arena floor itself, and four more at
various locations around the stands, plus a large boom-mounted
unit hovering over the center of the action, allowing for tight
close-ups of any action the director demanded. “Get me sound in
there,” Brussard ordered as the two groups of boys collided.
“Now! I want to hear their voices.”
	 ‘Sure hope the boss is watching this,’ he thought privately.
	
	William Durand was indeed watching, from the comfort of his
study on his private estate at the north end of the island. The
XB1 chief was very happy with what he was seeing. He would be
even happier next week, when those currently empty stands were
filled to capacity with enthusiastic, wealthy and influential
spectators. Every seat had already been sold for the first live
broadcast, and the VIP list was impressive indeed. Three heads of
state, various industrial and media barons, and more than a few
mainstream celebrities would all be in the audience. There was a
time, just barely a decade ago, when such highly placed
individuals would never dare to be seen at such a spectacle,
their interest in the subject matter a secretive and furtive one.
All that had changed with the passage of the Child Slavery Act.
That simple little global treaty had truly been the catalyst of a
dramatic social and cultural revolution, and it had made all of
XB1’s most successful programs possible. Boy Gladiators was no
exception, and as he watched the melee unfold, Durand was now
more certain than ever that he had an enormous hit on his hands.
	He sat back in his lounge chair, enjoying the sight of these
handsome young boys on the screen. The head of the planet’s
largest media empire laced his fingers as he always did in his
thoughtful, introspective moments. He gazed over at the clock on
the wall. It was just past seven-thirty. He smiled privately when
he heard the soft patter of bare feet on the hardwood floor.
	“You are two minutes late, Trevor,” he said, turning in his
chair.
	A boy of fourteen waited in the doorway, his head bowed, a tray
of coffee resting in his slender arms. William Durand’s personal
houseboy was naked except for a black leather slave collar around
his neck and a black thong tied around his waist. This was his
regular uniform for working around the house. He stood about five
feet two inches tall, close in height to the oldest of the
gladiators, but he had a thin, delicate build with slim narrow
hips. His skin was pearl-white and utterly flawless. His hair was
a dark auburn, worn shoulder length. His body otherwise was
completely hairless. Curiously, there was no burgeoning teenaged
bulge beneath the skimpy black thong.
	 “I’m sorry, sir,” he said in a high unbroken voice that could
have belonged to an eleven-year-old.
	“You will be if you do not get over here this instant.”
	Durand’s voice was stern, but the threat was largely empty and
the boy seemed to know it. Still he hurried over as fast as he
could with the tray in his arms. He was a graceful young
creature. Not a drop of the steaming coffee was spilled. He
placed the tray on the table beside his master’s chair and
dutifully poured the first cup.
	“Thank you, Trevor,” Durand said, gently patting the boy on his
bare thigh.
	“Is this the new show, sir?” Trevor asked, risking a brief
glance at the screen. He was, generally, not allowed to watch
television, but he already knew quite a bit about Worldwide Boy
Gladiators, being a smart and attentive slave and never being far
from his master’s side.
	“Not exactly,” Durand replied, “but it will look a lot like
this.”
	The young teenager again glanced at the screen. The boys all
wore collars just like he did, so that meant they were all
slaves. All of them were also very cute. Trevor got that funny
tingly feeling between his legs. It was not like other boys had,
he knew that. But it was pleasant, if not just a little
maddening. He took a deep breath and cast his eyes at his feet.
	“You’re not still upset that I wouldn’t let you compete, are
you?” Durand asked.
	The boy blushed, embarrassed that his feelings were always so
transparent to his master. “I guess. Kinda. I mean, I’m strong .
. . and real fast. I could beat most of those boys. I know I
could.”
	“I never said you couldn’t, dear one,” William said, fondly
tussling the boy’s hair. “But if you were damaged, I simply could
not bear it.”
	The fourteen-year-old watched the boy gladiators thoughtfully,
feeling just a twinge of jealousy. He observed that all of them
had their boy-parts locked away in chastity devices. The belts
around the waists of the youngest boys were immediately familiar
to him. “Some of them are wearing belts just like the one I used
to wear,” he said.
	“Yes they are,” Durand replied. “Do you remember when I put you
in the chastity belt? It was your first night with me.”
	The boy nodded. “Yes, master.”
	“Your little penis was so hard, I almost couldn’t get it on
you.” He ran his hand gently over the front of the boy’s thong,
feeling the tiny virtually non-existent genitals between the
fourteen-year-old’s legs. Trevor let out a soft gasp and stepped
closer, enjoying the feeling whenever his master touched him
there. “Aren’t you glad we made your penis and your balls nice
and small, so you don’t have to worry about that anymore?”
	“Yes, master,” Trevor replied, not entirely sure just how
grateful he should be. His master had owned him since he was ten
years old. He had started the injections when Trevor was eleven.
By the time of his thirteenth birthday, those things between his
legs, his little boy-parts, had shrunken away to almost nothing.
His tightly circumcised penis was barely an inch long. His
testicles were not much bigger than marbles and were held close
to his body by his tight smooth scrotum. He never had erections.
In fact, Trevor’s penis had not been hard in more than three
years. He still received the shots each week, ensuring that his
genitals remained small and dormant. The procedure itself didn’t
hurt. The most painful part was the shots themselves,
administered directly to his penis and testicles.
	Castration was, of course, commonly practiced on young boy
slaves. The breeding of slaves, rather intentionally or
accidentally was still illegal, and so it was a natural
precaution elected by many owners of unfortunate young male
slaves. The shrinking or nullification of a boy’s sex organs,
however, was something of a rarity. And although it was becoming
a trendy fashion in the highest social circles, it still
maintained a certain air of decadent novelty. William Durand was
among to first to have such a boy, proudly parading young Trevor
about at parties and gatherings.
	For the most part, Trevor really didn’t know what he’d lost. He
was still pre-pubescent when the process began. He did know he
wasn’t like other boys anymore, but he had only a vague notion of
what that really meant. He’d never met any other boys like him,
though his master assured him there were others all over the
world.
	“You’ll never need to wear a chastity belt again, Trevor,”
Durand said. “As long as you get your injections each week.” He
caressed the fourteen-year-old’s cute little behind and pressed
firmly on the plug in the boy’s butt. Trevor of course still had
his prostate, and at fourteen, it was overactive and highly
sensitive. He’d been plugged constantly ever since he was twelve.
He could still leak that mysterious clear fluid, in rather large
amounts in fact. A wet spot quickly developed on the boy’s thong
as his master continued to stimulate that special place deep
inside him. Trevor rolled his head back and licked his lips,
moaning softly.
	“This is all you need, isn’t it, boy?” Durand asked.
	“Yes, master,” Trevor replied softly.
	“Run along now. Finish your chores, then we’ll go for a swim.”
	Trevor’s eyes lit up. “Yes, sir!” and he hurried off to complete
his daily regimen of cleaning and scrubbing. The house here on
the island was huge. Much bigger than his master’s penthouse back
in the city. It took a full day just to do the vacuuming. But the
beautiful beach and blue waters made it all worthwhile.

	On the floor of the arena, boys were continuing to drop. Gabriel
had made quick work of little Miles, knocking him briefly
unconscious with an accidental blow to the back of his head. Two
of the film crew quickly dragged the little ten-year-old away so
the other boys wouldn’t trample him. Ian, much to David’s
amazement and surprise was putting up a good fight, having
discarded his net in favor of a mace. David’s nose was still
bleeding from his as yet unfinished battle with Chris. He had to
remember to breathe through his mouth, which was proving quite
distracting. Ian managed to land a sharp blow to the older boy’s
hip, then followed it with another one square against the
fourteen-year-old’s chest. David turned away trying to regain his
footing, only to be hit again, this time between the shoulders.
That last one knocked the wind out of him and he fell to the
ground, clutching his chest and trying to catch his breath.
	David probably could have recovered, given a few seconds, but
judgement in the arena was quick and final.
	“Boy One-Zero. You are eliminated! Leave the arena and go
below.”
	David was pissed, but there was nothing he could do about it.
Still barely able to breathe, he staggered to his feet and left
the floor. That left Ian and Gabriel, and Chris and Josh, who
were still fighting each other. Chris knew there was a good
chance the three younger boys would all gang up on him, so he
decided he’d better even the odds.
	“Let’s take those guys out together, Josh,” he said, even as he
blocked his brother’s latest blow.
	“Why should I help you?” the eleven-year-old asked suspiciously,
as the two boys stood toe to toe, “so you can just beat me
later.”
	“You might beat me,” Chris suggested.
	“I never beat you, at anything,” Josh snapped back. “No deal!
Come on guys!” Josh shouted to Ian and Gabe. “Let’s get him!”
	And they did. Pound for pound, Chris was probably the strongest
of the boys, but the athletic thirteen-year-old was no match for
the three pre-teens whose only goal at the moment was to knock
him off his feet. They circled around him, all three of them with
their pummels ready to strike.
	Chris managed to keep his legs under him for about five minutes,
but there was no way one boy could fend off three. The pack of
pre-teens was prodding him, taunting him, toying with him,
wearing him out. Finally they charged, hitting him front and
back, high and low with their pummel sticks. Chris knew he was
beat, but he wasn’t going down alone. He flung his pummel wildly
with his left hand and landed a sharp blow to the backs of
Gabriel’s knees. Chris hit the ground hard and Gabriel fell on
top of him. In that same instant, a very clever Josh turned on
Ian and landed a barrage of blows to the Australian boy’s chest
and stomach. Ian was knocked off balance and tripped backwards
over Chris and Gabe, leaving a pile of three boys on the ground,
their smooth lean limbs wiggling and struggling.
	“Boys Zero-Seven, Zero-Six and Zero-Three. You are eliminated!
Leave the arena and go below.”
	Bruised and tired, and rather shocked at how quickly their
strategies had unraveled, the three boys disentangled themselves
and slowly walked away. Josh was left standing there alone in the
center of the arena floor. It took him a few seconds to realize
what that meant.
	“I won! Oh, yeah. Who’s the bad ass? It’s me, it’s me, oh yeah.
I won!” Josh shouted, pumping his fist and doing a little dance.

	A high prepubescent voice echoed across the empty space. “No,
you didn’t.”
	Josh looked around in surprise. Daniel O’Hanlon stepped out of
the shadows of the trainer’s entrance, pummel in hand.
	“No fair!” the eleven-year-old yelled. “You cheated. You haven’t
fought anyone.”
	“They never said we had to fight everybody,” Daniel said,
walking forward and swinging his pummel lazily. “They said we had
to be the last boy standing. And I’m gonna be the last one . . .
‘cause you’re goin’ down!”
	“Don’t think so.”
	Josh was cocky, but he was also just about worn out. It was only
as they stood face to face staring each other down that Josh
realized how much smaller he was than his opponent. The only
advantage in size he had over Daniel was his unusually large
penis, which while quickly becoming somewhat legendary among the
boys would hardly help him win this contest. Any wrestler knows
how critical height and weight can be, and Josh knew he was in
trouble. He figured his only chance was to take Daniel by
surprise. He lunged forward, intending to drive the blunt end of
the pummel into the other boy’s stomach.
	Daniel however had learned a lot from the humiliating beating
Gabriel had given him earlier in the day. He blocked Josh’s blow
and kicked the eleven-year-old’s legs out from under him.
	“Shit!” Josh shouted as he fell back on his butt. He jumped up
right away, not wanting to be called out, but Daniel was ready
for him, charging forward and tackling him. With the pummels cast
aside, the two boys wrestled for the victory and those precious
bonus points. They were both in their element. Wrestling was as
natural for these two boys as breathing. Josh was quicker, but
Daniel was stronger and more experienced. After ten minutes of
grappling, accompanied by boyish grunts and groans, the
twelve-year-old’s advantages began to show. Josh had Daniel on
his back. He was thinking he would pin him any second.
Unfortunately for him, he’d underestimated the strength in
Daniel’s legs. The older boy was able to arch his body upward,
lock his arm around Josh’s neck and roll them both over,
reversing their positions.
	“Dammit!” Josh growled.
	Daniel pinned him a second later, and kept him down by pressing
his right knee into Josh’s chest.
	“Boy Zero-Two. You are eliminated. Boy Zero-Five. You are the
champion. Twenty bonus points.”
	Now it was Daniel who did a capering little dance, leaving Josh
lying there angry and confused about how he’d let this sure
victory get away.
	
Chapter 16:

	Beneath the arena, the eight boy gladiators who had been
eliminated were standing quietly in the cages, their iron collars
chained to the bars, their silence ensured by the fact that all
of them were wearing ball-gags. They had, by now, all received
the requisite ten lashes for their failure to achieve victory.
Their young bare backs bore the angry welts of their trainers’
whips. As several of the boys were eliminated simultaneously,
they had to stand at attention, hands behind their heads, while
one boy at a time was punished at the whipping post. The boys
already in the cages cringed as the whips cracked through the air
and kissed, not so gently, the soft youthful flesh.
	Chris was the last to be hung from the post. He had to watch as
first twelve-year-old Gabriel and then eleven-year-old Ian where
flogged by their trainers. Ian’s trainer, Anthony, was
particularly brutal, choosing a flogger with metal tips. After
only ten lashes, the young Australian boy’s back was bloodied.
Doctor Trench was summoned and swiftly treated Ian’s wounds, not
too gently. Chris feared he’d get the same or worse from Jason,
but as he hung from the post, his wrists chained above him, he
felt Jason move close and heard him whisper into his ear.
	“Scream like I’m really giving it to you, Zero-Seven,” Jason
said.
	The thirteen-year-old understood and turned his head enough to
flash his trainer a kick, private smile. The whipping was still
very real, and it still hurt a lot, but it wasn’t that big a deal
after all the other torment the boy had already endured today.
Nonetheless, he shouted his little head off, making it look good
for Jason, and making sure he worked up some tears for the
cameras. He was then taken down and marched over to one of the
cages, already filled with four other boys.
	The cages were small, forcing the boys to press their sweaty
naked hairless bodies together. Given such circumstances, it
should not be surprising that most of the boys were experiencing
at least some degree of sexual arousal. They squirmed about
uncomfortably as their sweet young penises tried to erect
themselves within the tight confines of their chastity devices.
This movement only served to further stimulate and frustrate
them. Soon the boys were all wincing from the spikes biting into
their youthful boyhood. Their distress was currently being
ignored however, as the trainers were all engaged in a heated
argument thanks to young Daniel, who had just been declared the
champion.
	“The little bastard cheated!” Hannah Dubose stated angrily. She
planned on handling Josh with harsh discipline and would demand
strict obedience from him, but she was also his trainer. His
successes were her successes, and his failures would reflect
badly on her. If he was truly cheated of a hard-earned victory,
she had the right and duty to protest on her young gladiator’s
behalf.
	“No, my dear, he most certainly did not,” Calvin Mayfair
replied. “The only instruction the boys were given was to be the
last one standing. No other rules were set.”
	“Oh, come on,” Michella, David’s trainer and Hannah’s girlfriend
joined the debate. “That’s bullshit, Cal, and you know it. This
isn’t the Olympics. These boys are here to fight.”
	“Zero-Five did fight,” Jason Sanborne interjected calmly. “And
he won.” As head trainer it would ultimately be his decision if
Daniel O’Hanlon’s victory would stand.
	“You’re not siding with him,” Hannah pointed derisively at
Calvin, “are you?”
	Jason smiled. “Each of these boys was recruited for three main
reasons. First, they are all incredibly cute and have terrific
little bodies. Second, they are all champion athletes. And
third,” he paused to make his point, “they are all highly
intelligent, far above average. Brains are going to prove just as
important as strength and skill as the competition goes on. I
agree it was a sneaky shitty little move on Zero-Five’s part. It
was also absolutely brilliant. Kid had a strategy and he made it
work. That’s the kind of stuff that’s pure gold in the ratings.
Zero-Five is the winner. End of discussion.”
	Hannah glared at him but said nothing. She grabbed the chain
that normally bound Josh and David together then turned toward
the tunnel marked ‘Trainers’. Angrily she marched up the ramp and
out onto the arena floor. Calvin, quite wisely, took off after
her.
	Daniel was still doing his victory dance. Josh was lying on his
back with his knees drawn up, staring blankly at the roof of the
arena high above, still trying to catch his breath. He was so mad
at Daniel. He was sure the older boy had cheated. But at the
moment he was even madder at himself for getting pinned. That
almost never happened when he wrestled. He’d lost maybe three
matches his whole life, and none over the last two years. Daniel
was good, very good, but Josh didn’t think the Canadian boy was
necessarily better, just a little bit bigger, and there were ways
to get around that. He definitely wanted a rematch.
	“I’ll get you next time, Danny,” he shouted.
	“Not likely,” the twelve-year-old with the auburn hair replied,
still feeling rather full of himself.
	Danny was the first to see the two trainers coming up the ramp.
He quickly stopped his theatrics and stood at attention, clasping
his hands behind his head. He whispered a quick warning to Josh.
The eleven-year-old scrambled to his feet and assumed the same
position. The two boys stood there together, their handsome nude
bodies sweaty and dirty, Daniel’s boyhood locked into the tightly
constraining cock cage, Josh’s hidden behind the thick triangular
metal plate of his chastity belt. For the first time since the
melee had begun, Josh was once again aware of the plug in his
butt and the tightness of the metal plate that completely covered
and confined his genitals. During the action, he’d gotten so
caught up in the fight that it was easy to forget he was wearing
a chastity belt designed to keep prepubescent boys like him from
touching themselves or having even the slightest hint of an
erection. He wiggled his hips for a moment in a vain attempt to
make it more comfortable. Daniel was apparently experiencing the
same problem, staring down at the metal cage that encased his
small penis and flicking the little padlock with his fingers.
There was no way it was coming off.
	“Where do your hands belong, Zero-Five?” Calvin asked him as he
came to a stop in front of the five-foot tall boy.
	“Behind my head, sir. Sorry, sir,” the boy replied, quickly
returning his hands to their proper position.
	“You are never to touch that,” his trainer admonished him,
harshly jiggling the metal cage and its small hairless contents.
Daniel suddenly was not feeling quite so big as he had just a few
minutes ago. In fact he was once again feeling quite small. When
he’d first gotten to the island and stood there naked with all
the other boys, it was easy for him to see that except for little
ten-year-old Miles, he was the boy with the smallest dick. So far
at least none of the boys had made fun of him. Gabriel, his
partner, had teased him about it, but in a friendly and
sympathetic kind of way. He was actually sort of glad all of them
had to wear the chastity devices, because his penis didn’t look
that much smaller inside the cage.
	“You did a good job though,” Calvin said, giving him a
congratulatory slap on the back. “Clever boy. Now get your ass
below.”
	Under standing orders to run everywhere he was told to go,
Daniel took off toward the boy’s entrance and scurried down the
ramp. Calvin jogged leisurely behind him.
	Hannah attached the chain to Josh’s collar. “No rewards for
finishing second, boy,” she told him sternly. “Now move.” And she
dragged the eleven-year-old boy behind her by his chain.
	The other boys were already being taken out of the cages and
chained to their partners when Hannah got Josh to the bottom of
the ramp. Josh was haplessly trying to explain how he’d ended up
losing the very first contest on Gladiator Island. Michella
marched David over and the heavy two-foot chain was again
connected between their collars. Josh noticed that David had a
black ball-gag in his mouth. He also noticed the ten livid red
stripes across the fourteen-year-old’s back. Josh took a quick
frightened glance at the whipping post and shivered.
	“No, you’re not going there,” Hannah told him, smacking his bare
butt. “You did finish second.”
	The eleven-year-old breathed a big sigh of relief.
	“Not a word, boys,” Jason Sanborne ordered as those who were
presently wearing gags had them removed by their trainers. All
the boys stood silently as the shorter chains were locked to the
iron shackles that were now a permanent fixture around their
wrists and ankles. All of the boys hated being chained, but it
was starting to become routine for them. They were slaves, the
property of XB1, and all of them were beginning to understand
just exactly what that meant.
	With the ten boy gladiators once again secured in their chains,
the trainers lined them up in pairs and marched them out of the
arena. It was eight-thirty in the evening, unbeknownst to the
boys of course, and the tropical late summer sun was still
brightening the sky. A band of dark clouds could be seen off
against the horizon, promising more rain at night. There was a
strong breeze coming in from the ocean. It felt good to the
sweaty naked boys after exerting themselves in the stifling
arena. None of the boys knew what might be happening next. A
general standing rule on the island was that the boy gladiators
be kept in the dark as much as possible as to which events would
be held each day. Most of them were eager to return to the
barracks, but their next and final stop on this their first full
day on Gladiator Island was the swimming pool. Their chains were
quickly removed. Jason Sanborne called the boys together in a
group. The trainers stood behind them.
	“A good first day, boys,” Sanborne praised them. “It’s only
going to get harder from here. But for tonight, we all agree
you’ve earned some fun. Free swim. One hour. Hit the water!”
	Tired as they were, the boys all cheered, patting each other on
the back, budding rivalries momentarily forgotten. Freed of their
chains, but still collared and in shackles, they eagerly made
their way into the pool, Chris, David and Philippe diving
confidently into their favorite element, the other boys slipping
in fearlessly. Only ten-year-old Miles was left behind, standing
with his cute little toes at the edge of the water, looking on
sadly as the other boys splashed and played. Chris, remembering
his instructions from Mr. Durand swam over after a few minutes
and smiled up at him from the cool blue water.
	“Sucks you can’t swim,” the thirteen-year-old said in a friendly
way. “Guess I’m supposed to teach you.”
	“Yeah,” Miles answered, not at all certain he really wanted to
learn.
	“Well, first thing we gotta do is get you in the water.”
	“It’s too deep, Chris.”
	“It isn’t way over at that end,” Chris replied, bringing a lean
sun-bronzed arm out of the water and pointing to the far end of
the pool. “Run down there and I’ll meet you, k?”
	“Okay. You ain’t gonna let me drownd, right?”
	“You won’t drown. Even my numb-nuts brother can float.” Chris
shouted that last statement to make sure Josh heard him.
	“Hey!” Josh shouted back, highly insulted.
	Miles laughed. He liked Chris. And he knew if he didn’t learn to
swim, things would go really badly for him on the island. He
hurried down to the shallow end of the pool and waited for his
first lesson.

	Jason Sanborne and Sergei Casparev stood at poolside, watching
the ten naked boys splashing and horsing around in the water. The
two trainers had remained at the pool to keep an eye on the young
gladiators and make sure they behaved themselves. Jason looked
over briefly at his counterpart and smiled privately. At just
seventeen, Sergei was by far the youngest of the trainers. If
he’d been only a few years younger he probably would have been
one of the boy gladiators himself. Like his thirteen-year-old
brother Illya, Sergei was an accomplished gymnast, having won his
first junior medals by the age of twelve, and a silver at
fourteen in the Olympics. The young man had given up his chances
to compete in the next summer games, committing himself instead
to being his little brother’s trainer here on Gladiator Island
for the duration of Illya’s three-year indenture.
	He was currently shirtless, affording Jason a good look at his
lean muscular teenaged physique. The fact that he was Illya’s
brother was still something known only to Jason and William
Durand, although all of the trainers had by now commented on how
close a resemblance there was between the boy slave and his
youthful trainer. Jason found both Illya and Sergei to be highly
attractive, and he wondered if Sergei’s cock rivaled his younger
brother’s in its impressive size and thickness. He also wondered
privately if he might be able to find out for himself.
	“Was coming here his idea, or yours?” Jason asked nonchalantly.
	“Our father’s, actually,” Sergei answered in well-practiced
English. “Illya did not want to do this at all.”
	“But your brother signed his indenture. All the boys did.”
	Sergei smiled and nodded. “He had to sign. Our father would have
sold him permanently if he didn’t.”
	Jason was a bit surprised at that. All of the boys’ parents had
willingly countersigned their sons’ indentures, some more
enthusiastically than others, but he hadn’t expected that any of
the boys’ guardians had employed the threat of permanent
enslavement to coerce a reluctant boy’s signature. Unbeknownst to
Jason, Illya was not the only boy who had signed the indenture
under such unpleasant circumstances. The promise of money was
simply too great, and the potential value at auction of handsome
pre-teen and teenaged boys too high for many debt-ridden parents
to ignore.
	“So how did you end up involved in all this?” Jason probed
further.
	“I want Illya to win. I asked to be his trainer. Mr. Durand
agreed.”
	“Is it difficult? Being your brother’s trainer?” Jason had
already noticed that Sergei had been particularly harsh with the
whip, lashing his thirteen-year-old brother’s back with no sign
of remorse or mercy.
	“Illya is a slave,” the Russian teenager said thoughtfully. “He
is no longer a person, so I do not think of him as my brother. It
is my job to make sure he obeys and does his best. When he fails,
he is punished, just like the others.”
	“I am going to have to tell the trainers that you boys are
related,” Jason explained. “Most of them already suspect.”
	“Is this a problem?”
	“I don’t see why it should be. You’re certainly not going easy
on him. But if there’s a big argument over it, I may have to
switch you with someone else. I don’t care if the boys find out.
They have no rights one way or another. It may be a good angle
for the public though. We’ll play it up if it seems to be drawing
attention.”
	Sergei smiled. “Then I will make sure we draw attention.”
	“That shouldn’t be too hard for either of you.”
	Jason spent the next hour dividing his attention between the ten
naked boys and the half-naked Sergei, who seemed fully aware that
he had caught the older man’s eye. He himself was quite pleased
with this turn of events. A special relationship with Jason
Sanborne could only improve his standing amongst the more
experienced trainers who all considered him little more than a
boy himself. He made sure he showed himself off whenever the
opportunity presented itself. With so much visual stimulus, Jason
ended up with a raging erection in his shorts. Sergei was soon
sporting one as well, as the unspoken sexual tension between the
two trainers grew stronger.

	The boys were returned to the barracks at precisely nine-thirty
that night. They stood silently as their wrist and ankle
shackles, and their iron collars were removed for the night. They
were then assembled in front of the scoreboard and watched as the
final bonuses and demerits for the day were figured in. Danny
O’Hanlon, with his twenty points for winning the melee, vaulted
easily into first place. Joshua Andrews, whose athletic skills
could not make up for his smart mouth and misbehaving penis, was
last.
	“I’ll catch up tomorrow, ma’am,” he promised Hannah, who had
just given his bare butt several hard smacks.
	“You’d better,” she told him sternly. “And you’d best learn to
keep that thing soft.” She pointed derisively at the triangular
metal plate that encased the eleven-year-old’s oversized
genitals.
	Josh blushed. Of course it was absolutely impossible for the boy
to have an erection while wearing the chastity belt, but he was
already worrying about the morning, when it would be removed for
his shower. He just knew he was going to spring another boner,
and when you are a seventy-pound eleven-year-old with a huge five
and ½ inch erection, its impossible not to draw attention to
yourself.
	For twelve-year-old Daniel, the excitement of his victory was
now replaced with humiliation as he was made to stand in front of
all the other boys and have his chastity cage removed and the
chastity belt of the younger boys put on in its place. He was
blushing and close to tears when his trainer explained this
unwelcome change to him, speaking loud enough that everyone in
the barracks could hear.
	“Since your penis is so small, I’ve decided that you’ll wear the
chastity belt from now on.”
Danny’s circumcised penis, just over two inches long, remained
soft as Calvin unlocked the metal cage and slid the ring off the
cute auburn-haired boy’s genitals. Danny lowered his eyes to the
floor and tried to pretend it didn’t bother him, but he could
hear the giggles and snickers from the others. He hadn’t exactly
made friends with his winning strategy in the melee. More than a
few of the boys were actually happy to see him being humiliated.
	The leather belt, with the thick metal triangular genital cover
was strapped around Daniel’s slim waist. The plate kept the
twelve-year-old’s penis curved downward between his legs, and
pushed his balls upwards until they were nearly inside him. If
anything it was more uncomfortable than the cock cage.
	“I’ve also decided you need a larger butt-plug. Bend over and
grab your ankles.”
	Daniel’s eyes watered, but he didn’t dare refuse. He bent over,
showing his butt to everyone. His trainer pulled out the plug and
roughly inserted his finger. The twelve-year-old moaned as the
unwelcome intruder swirled around inside him and found that magic
spot that made his whole body tingle. A few seconds later a
considerably larger butt-plug was shoved inside him. Daniel
screamed and begged Calvin to take it out.
	“You’ll get used to it,” his trainer said without sympathy as he
drew the leather strap over the boy’s butt-crack and locked it
and the belt in place with a pair of padlocks.
	A very miserable Daniel was returned to his place in line.
	“Two hours free time before lights out,” Jason told the boys.
“You will all go to the bathroom and you will all brush your
teeth before bed. Showers are optional. No more than five
minutes. Books and games are in the cabinet. You will keep your
voices down and behave yourselves. If the guards have to punish
you, you’ll be given demerits in the morning. Understood?”
	“Yes, sir,” the boys all answered in unison, a pleasant mix of
adolescent and pre-pubescent voices.
	The trainers departed, leaving the boys in the charge of four
uniformed guards for the remainder of the night. They were all so
tired that Jason’s admonition was hardly necessary. Each boy took
advantage of the shower room, going in a single group and
delighted to discover that the evening shower offered merely cool
water rather than the frigid ice-cold agony of their required
morning ritual. There was a little good-natured horseplay, but
for the most part the boys just stood under the showers, washing
the dirt and dust off their smooth glistening bodies, letting the
water run over their shoulders and down their flanks. Each of the
boys held out his hands to receive a squirt of disinfectant soap
from the male guard who was supervising them.
	“Make sure you wash your hair, boys,” he told them, enjoying the
sublime beauty of ten naked young teens and pre-teens. The
chastity cages worn by the older boys jiggled back and forth as
they eagerly worked the gooey blue gel over their skin. The guard
was treated to a particularly alluring show as the boys raised
their hands to their heads and scrubbed away the sweat and dirt.
	With his body clean for the first time since the morning, Chris
was surprised to see the scrapes and bruises he’d earned during
the day. He had them on his arm and legs, and a few on his
stomach and chest. The boy couldn’t see the bruises on his face,
but he could certainly feel them. He knew his back also now bore
ten deep red welts from the whipping he’d been given. Strangely
enough, Chris felt really proud of himself. Things were a lot
harder than he’d ever imagined they would be, but he was still on
his feet.
	‘Not bad,’ he thought to himself, looking down at his trim
hairless muscular young body.
	The water was turned off after five minutes, much to the boys’
collective disappointment. They weren’t allowed to have towels,
and so the boys were ordered to simply stand there on the tiles
for another ten minutes until most of the water had dripped off
their bodies. It wasn’t all that bad, the cooling droplets felt
good on their bare skin, it was mostly just humiliating, having
to stand there dripping wet with the guards looking on.
	Satisfied that they weren’t going to flood the bathroom, the
guards ordered the boys to urinate and then brush their teeth.
The youngest boys, locked in their chastity belts, had to squat
over the toilets. The six older boys, wearing the constricting
genital cages, were allowed to stand over the communal urinal and
relieve themselves. After the mess they’d made on their first
night, they were strictly supervised by two of the guards. They
were then given their toothbrushes and marched over to the sinks.
Afterward the ten boys each had to stand with their mouths wide
open while the guards inspected their teeth.
	Once they were finally allowed to return to the common room, the
boys broke up into small groups. Illya and Alexei quickly found
the chess board and started playing. Chris discovered a science
fiction book to his liking and sat down at the table to read it.
Josh wandered over a few minutes later and took the stool next to
him.
	“Sorry I didn’t team up with you, Chris,” the eleven-year-old
said after a few minutes of silence between them.
	“I’ll bet you are,” Chris replied, not looking up from his book.
	“You mad at me?”
	“Kinda. I told mom I’d look out for you, so that’s what I tried
to do.” Chris put his book down and looked at his little brother.
“You sold me out. That was real shitty of you.”
	Josh looked shocked. He’d never thought he might hurt his
brother’s feelings. “I just wanted to win, Chris. If it’d ended
up just you ‘n me, you’da kicked my ass for sure.”
	“And you would’ve finished second, which you did anyway, right?
At least I would have given you a fair chance.”
	“I just . . . I mean . . . I don’t want everyone thinkin’ I need
my big brother to help me win stuff, you know . . . “
	“I was never going to help you win, Josh,” Chris said. “If it
ever comes down to you and me, I’ll do my best to kick your butt,
got it.”
	“Got it,” Josh replied. “We’re still brothers, right?”
	“We’ll always be brothers, dickwad.”
	“You know what I mean . . . we’re still friends . . . “
	“Yeah,” Chris said, lightly punching Josh’s shoulder. “That
doesn’t mean you’re not still a big pain in the ass.”
	Josh smiled. “Talk about a pain in the ass. This thing in my
butt’s driving me crazy.” He wriggled around on the stool, only
to feel the metal plug jab him again in that sensitive spot deep
inside him. The boy’s penis swelled uselessly inside his chastity
belt, permanently forced downward by the tight impregnable
genital cover. Josh sighed miserably. In a few minutes, his penis
would soften completely again, but for the moment, everything
felt very tight and very uncomfortable down there.
	Chris could certainly sympathize. All the boys could. And yet,
for Chris, there was something compelling about having a plug in
his butt and a cage around his dick. Something he could not
explain or understand. Of course he wanted to jerk off,
frantically, desperately, like any other thirteen-year-old boy,
but the fact that he was not allowed to, the fact that he could
not even touch his own penis held a strange fascination for him.
He wondered if some of the other boys were having these same
confusing feelings. He was just working up the courage to ask
Josh when the guards blew their whistles.
	The boys cleaned up the common room in a noisily chaotic and
boyishly inefficient manner and were then put into their cells
for the night. Once the solid metal doors were slammed and
locked, the boys found themselves in almost total darkness. Chris
and Alexei bumped into each other several times as they unrolled
their mattresses and got ready for bed. There was a strong breeze
blowing in through the thickly screened and barred window. It was
warm, but pleasant, with the scent of the ocean. The boys lay
there on their backs, talking quietly for a while until they both
nodded off.
	
	Among the twenty rooms in William Durand’s mansion, there was a
small one in which Trevor slept. Durand’s master suite and
several of the guestrooms had closets larger than Trevor’s space,
but it was more than adequate for a boy slave. It had no windows.
It had no door, since the fourteen-year-old had no rights to
privacy. It was mostly unfurnished. In the center of the bare
hardwood floor was the cage where Trevor slept. It was just big
enough for the boy to crawl into on his hands and knees, turn
around if needed, and curl up to sleep. Next to the sturdily
built cage was the spanking bench where the boy received his
morning and evening discipline.
	Trevor was on his knees in front of his cage, his hands behind
his back, his head bowed. He had been waiting obediently for his
master for half an hour.
	Durand paused for a moment in front of the open doorway, gazing
at the lean, shapely form of the handsome boy inside waiting for
him. He felt great affection for Trevor and was not hesitant to
show it. However, he was also very strict, and firmly believed
that boy slaves required constant discipline and correction.
	“Get in position, Trevor,” he said in a mild tone of voice.
	The boy immediately put himself over the punishment bench,
presenting his rear end to his master. The bench had attachments
for restraining the boy’s wrists and ankles, and a broad belt to
strap the boy’s torso tightly in place. Durand was in no hurry.
He enjoyed this nightly ritual. Leather cuffs were buckled around
the boy’s wrists and ankles. These were then, one slender limb at
a time, locked to the support legs of the bench. Trevor arched
his back and stretched, testing his bonds. He then lay perfectly
still as his master drew the leather strap over his middle and
pulled it tight. A leather bit was then taken from its hanging
place on the wall and secured around the boy’s head.
	“You were late with tea this evening,” Durand announced. “And I
am not completely happy with the state of your bathroom.”
	Trevor let out an apologetic “mmmph”.
	“Yes, dear one, I know you’re sorry, but I must punish you. You
get double tonight, the last ten with the paddle.”
	Trevor shuddered involuntarily but quickly composed himself. The
boy knew if he made any sign of complaint or protest, it would
only be worse. His routine nightly spanking always meant twenty
hard swats with his master’s bare hand. He’d be getting ten more
on top of that, and then another ten with the paddle.
	Durand ran his hand gently over the fourteen-year-old’s little
round butt. It was pearlescent, like fine porcelain, just like
the rest of him. With a single finger he stroked the boy’s
perenium, just behind the spot where his tight scrotum held his
tiny little balls. It was smooth and soft like velvet to his
touch. Durand could feel a slight hardness there beneath the
hairless skin, the only sign that the teenager was aroused. The
fourteen-year-old could still become sexually excited, in his own
unusual way, even though he had no sex organs to speak of aside
from his overactive adolescent prostate. Trevor’s small one-inch
long penis remained completely and permanently flaccid between
his legs. Durand continued to apply gentle pressure to the smooth
erogenous flesh. Trevor moaned and purred in obvious pleasure.
	“Naughty boy,” Durand said in a low voice. He spanked Trevor
with solid blows from his open hand, going slowly to allow the
boy to feel each one. The sound of the man’s hand connecting
sharply with the boy’s vulnerable flesh echoed in the tiny room.
Trevor had learned to bear his master’s discipline silently, but
not without tears, which were falling in a constant stream by the
time the tenth blow reigned down upon his rear end. He was
sobbing quietly by the time the thirtieth landed on his now dark
crimson-shaded butt.
	Trevor watched with wide eyes as his master took the wooden
paddle from its place on the wall. It was heavy, with a series of
holes to maximize the force of impact. Trevor knew the paddle was
normally reserved for only the worst of his offenses, such as
breaking something or talking out of turn. He didn’t understand
why he’d been sentenced to ten strokes.
	“You’re wondering why you’re getting the paddle, aren’t you?”
Durand asked, showing just a hint of sympathy in his voice for
the boy’s obvious confusion and fear.
	The young teen nodded.
	“You are not a little boy anymore, dear one. You are old enough
to do your chores properly without being reminded, and you are
certainly old enough to be on time. I don’t think you will be
late again after tonight, will you?”
	Trevor vehemently shook his head ‘no’.
	Durand delivered the first blow. Trevor bucked against his
bonds, pulling against the restraints around his wrists and
ankles. The second blow caused him to scream into his bit, as did
every blow thereafter. By the end, the boy’s normally beautiful
teenaged butt was a dark shade of purple. Trevor would not be
sitting down for quite a while. Durand released him from the
punishment bench.
	“Into your cage,” he said softly, offering the crying boy a
brief comforting hug.
	Trevor dropped to his hands and knees and crawled into the cage.
He was actually rather happy when his master closed the door and
turned the key in the lock. At least he wouldn’t have to worry
about his burning backside again until the morning.

Chapter 17:
	
	Chris was sleeping soundly, curled into a little ball, his knees
drawn up to his chest. He didn’t hear the steel door of his cell
being opened, or the guard’s boots on the concrete floor. An
impatient gloved hand shook him roughly, locking his shoulder in
an iron grip.
	“Come on, boy, get up,” the guard said. “Time for your enema.”
	The groggy thirteen-year-old sat up and blinked the sleep out of
his eyes. Light was coming in from the common room, but it was
still totally dark outside. “What time is it?” he asked.
	The guard slapped him lightly across the cheek. “That’s none of
your business, boy. It’s my job to worry what time it is. It’s
your job to keep your mouth shut and do what you’re told. On your
feet. If you keep the nurse waiting, your trainer will hear about
it.”
	Chris quickly got off his bed and rolled up his mattress as
neatly as he could. He’d almost forgotten about Jason’s orders
that he be given an enema each morning, punishment for not being
able to go to the bathroom when he was told. Naked, with the
chastity cage locked securely around his genitals, Chris followed
the guard out of his cell. He stood at attention while he was
again placed in his iron collar and shackles. His ankles and
wrists were chained. Being locked into his slave gear was slowly
becoming a normal routine for the boy, he was more worried about
his upcoming enema than the heavy irons and chains, which now
adorned his small, lean, hairless thirteen-year-old body.
	Karin was waiting for him in the bathroom. “Good morning,
Zero-Seven.”
	“Hi, miss,” he said shyly. It was still difficult being naked in
front of females. Being a gay boy, Chris naturally didn’t feel
any particular attraction toward the young nurse’s aide, but it
was morning and he’d just woken up. That, and the strangely
arousing sense of shame and humiliation he was feeling as he
stood nude in front of her, all resulted in a thirteen-year-old
dick trying desperately to get hard inside its constraining metal
cage.
	“I’m flattered,” Karin said with a gentle laugh, gesturing to
the excited state of the boy’s penis. “I didn’t think you liked
girls.”
	“I don’t really, miss. It’s just . . . it’s morning, you know .
. . it always gets like that . . . “
	The young boy’s stumbling embarrassed attempt at an explanation
made Karin smile.
	“You are just so cute,” she said, tussling his blonde hair. “Go
over to the showers and get on your hands and knees. Face the
wall.”
	“Yes, miss.”
	Karin stood behind the boy, enjoying the sight of his smooth
naked thirteen-year-old ass. The silvery base of the youngster’s
metal butt-plug made an attractive adornment. Between his
hairless legs, Karin could see the boy’s tightly ringed balls and
the tip of the chastity cage. Chris craned his neck back to see
what was going to happen. Karin reached down and slowly pulled
the plug out of his butt.
	Chris grunted and yelped in protest. “Yow! That hurts!”
	“It’s meant to, young man,” Karin said without sympathy. “Now
keep your little legs spread for me. I can make this a lot harder
on you if you give me any trouble.”
	“I’ll be good, miss, I promise.”
	All the necessary equipment was on a small cart she’d brought
with her. The enema solution was already in the translucent bag,
which she hung from the showerhead. Still looking back over his
shoulder, Chris could see that the enema plug looked different
from the one they’d put inside him yesterday. It was a lot bigger
for one thing.
	“This one is designed to expand once it’s in your butt,” Karin
said.
	“Like a balloon, miss?” the thirteen-year-old asked, starting to
have serious doubts about this morning ritual.
	“Exactly. I’m going to be filling you very full this time, and
we don’t want little boys having accidents. Once this goes in, it
can’t come out until I deflate it.”
	The young woman applied a small amount of lubricant and worked
the nozzle into Christopher’s rectum. He let out a soft
high-pitched moan and felt his cock twitch inside his chastity
device. From the boy’s perspective it felt just like the
butt-plug that he’d been wearing since yesterday morning. That
was until it began to inflate inside him.
	“Oh shit!” the young teenager gasped as the thing grew larger
and larger and more and more uncomfortable.
	“Just a little bit more, Zero-Seven. You can take it.”
	“I can’t, miss,” Chris sobbed. “It’s too big!”
	“You’re going to have much bigger things than this shoved up
your cute little butt before too much longer, so you might as
well get used to it now. Turn your face to the wall.”
	Chris did as he was told and miserably tried to relax. After a
brief moment, he began to feel the fluid filling him up, slowly
but relentlessly. By the time the bag was empty, the boy’s
abdomen was swollen and distended.
	“Stand up. Put your hands behind your head.”
	Chris struggled to his feet and stood there with his suddenly
round belly sticking out. The change in position caused him to
cramp up badly, but he didn’t dare move. The plug definitely was
not coming out. It was pressing insistently on his youthful
prostate even as the liquid sloshed around inside him.
	“You’re going to keep all that inside you for fifteen minutes,”
Karin told him.
	Tears came to the boy’s eyes. He didn’t know how he was going to
make it that long, but he knew he didn’t have a choice. He’d only
be able to shit everything out when Karin took the inflatable
plug out of his butt. The cramps got worse and worse, and he
still had to stand there, naked, collared and chained. He was
sniffling and whining quietly when Karin finally told him to get
back on his hands and knees.
	“Hold it in, boy,” she warned him.
	Chris was terrified of what would happen to him if he had an
accident. He felt the plug slowly deflating and breathed out a
soft sigh. Karin pulled it out and with a firm swat on his butt
sent him over to the toilet. Chris just barely made it. His loud
groan of relief echoed against the sterile white tiles.
	Minutes later he was returned to the guard. “See you tomorrow
morning, Zero-Seven,” Karin told him as she rolled the cart
toward the door.
	“Yes, miss,” Chris replied, glum and red-faced with
embarrassment.
	When Karin was gone, the guard locked his fingers around the
boy’s arm. “Since you’re up and we’ve already got you in your
chains, you can help with the food cart. March.”
	
	The guard led Chris outside and through the secured perimeter
fence of the barracks. It was still dark. Chris looked up and saw
the moon. He could hear the sounds of the ocean and chirping of
the insects. The air was surprisingly cool, but very damp. It was
actually enough to make the naked boy shiver.
	“It’ll heat up soon enough, boy,” the guard said as Chris
trudged along beside him. “What’s your name?”
	“Zero-Seven, sir,” Chris answered without even thinking about
it.
“I know that,” the man replied. “What name were you born with?”
“Christopher, sir.”
“You’ve got a nice little body, Christopher.”
He felt the man’s hand touch his shoulder, just for a moment.
“Uh, thanks, sir. I like to exercise and stuff.”
“It shows.”
The guard didn’t say anything else to him, and Chris was
perfectly happy to keep his
mouth shut. The food cart was waiting for them outside the
service entrance to the cafeteria.
	“Get behind it and start pushing, boy,” the guard ordered.
	Chris was surprised how heavy it was. For a
one-hundred-and-two-pound boy, it was a bit of a challenge
getting it moving and keeping it under control. The fact that his
wrists and ankles were chained wasn’t helping.
	“If you topple it, all ten of you are going hungry this
morning,” the guard warned. The man was rather enjoying the sight
of the muscular five and half foot tall thirteen-year-old
straining and struggling with the big four-wheeled cart.
	Much to his relief, Chris managed to get the cart safely back to
the barracks. By then the other boys were awake and out of their
cells and headed to the showers. Chris quickly ran over to join
them. Once again most of the boys would start the day with
demerits for springing erections once the chastity cages and
belts were removed. Only Daniel, Illya and Josh, much to his
surprise, managed to keep their penises soft.
	After breakfast the boys were all put on the marathon course for
a morning run. Only fives miles instead of the full length, but
more than enough to get their young hearts pounding, their
hairless naked bodies sweating and their handsome bare chests
panting for breath. They were not told they were actually racing
one another, but none of them wanted to be last. This time they
were not chained to their partners, so each boy could set his own
pace.
	Ten-year-old Miles was quite pleased. Distance running and
cross-country were his specialties. While the older boys sprinted
away and left him behind, he set a good pace for himself. He
liked this particular distance and had won a lot medals at it
already.
	‘They all forget about me ‘cause I’m the smallest,’ he thought
to himself. But he knew how to run a race. He was dead last for
the first two miles, but one by one the older larger boys all
started to slow down, and Miles started to catch them. He passed
Ian and Gabriel first, then his partner Philippe. With half a
mile to go he could see David and Illya, the two tallest of the
ten boys, running practically side by side. He smiled and kicked
himself into high gear. He figured he had just enough left to
sprint the last quarter and pass the two big boys. He passed
right between them and kept on running. Little Miles finished
thirty seconds ahead of everyone else. They all had pats on the
back for him and good-natured cheers.
	After the morning run, the boys were given a drink of water then
paired up again. They were taken as a group to the training
facility and placed in separate rooms. Chris had already been
here his first night on the island. For Alexei it was his first
visit. Jason and Natasha spoke privately while the two boys stood
at attention in the center of the room.
	“I’ll call you when I’m finished,” Jason said to her. “Then you
can have them. I don’t need to remind you Chris is gay. I’m sure
Alexei is too.”
	“That does not matter,” Natasha said in her thick Russian
accent. “They are boys. I will enjoy their suffering. I expect
their cocks to be soft anyway.” She looked hungrily at the naked
twelve and thirteen-year-old and slowly walked out, closing the
door behind her. Jason locked it from inside. He was alone with
the two cute boys. He could not hide his pleasure.
	“Your sexual training begins today, boys,” he told them as he
sat down at the workstation and brought up their files. He
decided he’d work on Chris first. Alexei would learn by watching.
He removed the chain from the thirteen-year-old’s collar but left
it hanging from twelve-year-old Alexei’s.
	“Don’t move,” he ordered Chris as he dragged Alexei by the chain
over to the holding cage. It was similar to the ones beneath the
arena floor, but smaller, designed to fit just a single boy. “Get
in,” he told the frightened twelve-year-old. “Turn around and
face me.”
	As soon as Alexei complied, Jason closed the door. It locked
automatically. Alexei had no room to turn or sit. He would be
forced to stand straight and watch, the bars pressing against him
front and back. Jason chose a rather nasty penis gag and forced
it into the young Russian’s mouth, strapping it tightly behind
his head.
	“Suck on that for a while, boy,” he said, running his fingers
roughly through the boy’s dark hair. “I don’t want to hear a
sound out of you, got it?”
	“Mmmmph, mmph,” was Alexei’s affirmative response.
	Jason turned his attention to Chris. He’d been fantasizing about
this moment ever since he’d first laid eyes on the young
teenager. He opened the locks that held the boy’s shackles in
place and replaced the iron restraints with thick black leather
cuffs, one pair for the thirteen-year-old’s wrists, another for
his ankles. They were adorned with silver studs and had numerous
steel rings sewn into them. Jason pulled them tight with the
buckles and attached padlocks to each one, making sure the boy’s
new restraints would not come off until he wanted them too. The
boy remained in his iron collar.
	“Sir, what did you mean by sexual training?” a very nervous
Chris Andrews asked his trainer. “I don’t think I get it. I mean,
what’s that got to do with the games and stuff?”
	“Some of the games will be sexual in nature,” Jason explained,
standing in front of him now and staring down into the boy’s blue
eyes. “Contests to see which boy can keep his cock hard the
longest, or keep it from getting hard, or which of you can go the
longest time without cumming. Fun stuff like that.”
	“Oh,” the boy replied. ‘Fun for who?’ he thought to himself.
	“Beyond that, the people in the audience have paid a lot of
money to watch you boys compete. The wealthiest of them can pay a
little more for special passes that entitle them to spend the
evening, or several, with any boy they choose. You’ll be trained
to give them whatever pleasure they desire.”
	Chris was young, but he was not totally innocent. He had a
pretty good idea what sort of ‘pleasures’ Jason was talking
about.
	“So they can, like, buy me?”
	“More like rent you, but yes.”
	“To have sex with me, right?”
	“Some of them will. Most of them probably. Others will probably
just want to keep you in bondage, or give you a hard spanking, or
torture you all night.”
	A shocked and rather frightened look was all Chris could manage.

	“It’s all in your contract of indenture. You are our property
for the next three years, which means we can do anything we want
to you, including offering that cute little body of yours to our
most distinguished visitors.”
	Chris bit his lower lip. The young teen wasn’t sure what to
think. Much to his surprise and dismay, his penis was once again
trying to get hard its chastity cage. The boy knew the idea of
being tortured or beaten by total strangers should have scared
him to death, instead it seemed to be getting him aroused. He
felt the spikes dig into the flesh of his nice thirteen-year-old
cock, a painful reminder that erections were not allowed, and yet
his misbehaving boyhood continued to swell and throb inside the
constricting genital cage.
	“I see at least part of you seems to like the idea,” Jason
observed with a smug expression.
	“I don’t know why it keeps doing that, sir,” Chris said.
	Jason laid his hand on the boy’s face, caressing Chris’ soft
cheek. His touch was almost gentle. “I know you better than you
know yourself right now, Chris,” he said. “I’m going to teach
you. And you will learn.”
	“Are you going to hurt me again, like the other night?”
	“Probably.”
	Chris flinched and closed his eyes. Jason put both hands on his
face now and forced the thirteen-year-old’s eyes open. “Look at
me. It kept you hard and leaking last time, didn’t it?”
	Ashamed that it was true, Chris tried to look away. Jason
tightened his hold.
	“Look at me, Chris. Answer me when I ask you a question.”
	“Yes . . . yes, sir.”
	“Yes what?”
	“Yes, sir, it . . . it kept me hard and leaking. It made me want
to cum so bad.”
	“You’re ashamed of that.”
	“Yes, sir.”
	“Don’t be. I’d have been disappointed if it didn’t turn you on.
Like I said, I know you Christopher. I know you very well.” He
pulled his keys from his pocket and unlocked the boy’s chastity
cage. Before the thirteen-year-old’s penis could become fully
erect, he removed the cock and ball ring that anchored the device
in place. Christopher’s hairless genitals were now completely
unadorned. His balls fell low in his sac and his penis slowly
became rigid.
	“No touching,” Jason warned him sternly.
	Chris nodded.
	Jason slowly disrobed. Chris watched his trainer, rather
awestruck, curious and frightened all at once. He’d seen his
father naked a few times, but that was back when he was six or
seven and he was naked too and sharing the shower with him. This
was so totally different. He was a slave now, and this man was
his trainer. Chris knew he was about to have sex, real sex, for
the first time in his life.
	When Jason pulled off his shorts and stood naked before the boy,
Chris’ blue eyes got big. Jason was huge down there. His soft
cock almost as long as Chris’ six-inch erection. Jason had a
thick bush of dark pubic hair, but he kept the rest of his body
smooth. The boy stared at the man for a silent moment, his eyes
enviously drinking in Jason’s powerful muscles, and always
Christopher’s stare returned to the man’s large penis and heavy
low-hung testicles. Suddenly Chris felt very embarrassed and very
little and he lowered his eyes to his feet.
	“Is mine too small?” Chris asked.
	Jason raised the boy’s chin and answered with a smile. “It’s
just right for you.”
	Chris seemed to like that and he smiled back.
	“Get on your knees. Put my cock in your mouth.”
	“Oh wow,” Chris whispered as he lowered himself to his knees.
	The only cock that had ever been in Chris’ mouth was Joshua’s.
And as big as his little brother was, it was nothing compared to
the frightening monster that was in front of him now. Jason
wasn’t even fully erect yet, but already his trainer’s cock
seemed to Chris’ eyes to be twice as big as his own. Of course it
wasn’t, but when you are thirteen years old and facing your first
dick, things naturally lose all proportion. Chris was aware that
his own penis was rock hard and throbbing, begging for attention.
Rather liking that feeling, knowing he was not allowed to touch
it, made him very horny and suddenly quite fearless. He opened
his mouth and wrapped his soft lips around Jason’s swollen, rigid
sex.
	The warmth and softness that now surrounded Jason’s cock nearly
made his head spin. He quickly grabbed and handful of the boy’s
hair and forced yet more of his manhood down Chris’ eager young
throat. Chris had no experience and no skill, but he made up for
it with boyish enthusiasm. Jason felt the boy’s tongue moving
lightly over his throbbing hardness. Little high-pitched sounds
were issuing from the thirteen-year-old’s throat. Jason was
pleased. The boy was raw and clumsy in his efforts, but he could
be trained. He would learn to take all of a man’s cock. He would
learn to beg for it.
	“Slow down, boy,” he said, tugging at Chris’ hair. He thrust
gently, feeding more of his eight-inch erection to the young
teen. Chris started to gag and choke. Jason pulled back slightly,
but forced the boy to keep going. “Don’t fight it. That’s better.
If I feel your teeth again I’ll knock them out.”
	“Mmmph,” Chris moaned pathetically with his mouth stuffed full
of turgid dick. But the boy didn’t stop. He didn’t want to.
Between his slim hairless legs, his erect penis was leaking
steadily. His young balls ached. He wanted to cum so bad, and
sucking Jason’s cock only made his boyish need stronger.
	“This is what you were meant to be, isn’t it, boy?” Jason said,
pulling back harshly on Chris’ hair, forcing the boy to look up
at him even as his cock was plunged into the youngster’s mouth.
“A naked little cocksucker . . . on your knees, your little dick
hard and leaking . . . “
	Chris knew it had to be true because everything his trainer was
saying was making his dick even harder. He closed his eyes and
rolled his tongue over the massive organ in his mouth. Jason
raised his foot to the boy’s balls and jiggled them rather
roughly.
	“Mmmph! Mmmmmph!” Chris groaned, afraid Jason was about to kick
him.
	“I’m not going to hurt your precious little nuts,” Jason told
him. “Not yet, anyway.”
	At thirteen, young Chris really didn’t have the skill or ability
to bring Jason to orgasm on his own. Jason let him go on for a
while longer, just to get used to the idea of having a grown
man’s cock in his mouth, but finally he pushed the boy away. The
look on the boy’s face was priceless, an adorable mix of
confusion, relief and disappointment.
	“Stay on your knees, boy, and close your eyes,” Jason ordered as
he stroked himself to a powerful climax, ejaculating all over
young Christopher’s face. The thirteen-year-old was covered in
his trainer’s cum when Jason was finally finished. As a final
humiliation he wiped off his cock in the boy’s hair. Chris’ eyes
were red and moist when he finally opened them again.
	“Are you going to cry?” Jason asked. His voice was suddenly
gentle.
	“No, sir,” Chris said with cum dripping from his chin.
	“Good boy.”
	Jason didn’t bother wiping his spent seed from the boy’s face.
	“Stand up. Spread your legs.”
	Chris obeyed. He still had an erection. Jason selected a black
leather penis sheath and quickly pulled the boy’s balls through
the opening in the bottom, then he slowly laced the sheath around
the thirteen-year-old’s throbbing boyhood, tightening it as he
worked. Chris looked down and watched as his penis was encased in
the leather sheath. It felt very different from the chastity
device. He was able to have an erection, but with the laces
pulled taut, it would still be impossible for him to get any
pleasure from playing with himself. He could barely feel Jason’s
hands touching him through the thick leather.
	“There,” Jason said as he tied off the ends of the laces. “That
should keep you under control for a while. Try to jerk off. Do
it.”
	Chris tentatively rubbed his left hand over the sheath. His cock
stayed hard, but he felt nothing. He looked up at Jason shyly.
Even if he were allowed to keep going, it wouldn’t do him any
good. The sheath made masturbating impossible.
	“It’s meant to keep you hard and frustrated,” Jason told him. He
gave the boy’s dangling balls a firm squeeze. Another stream of
pre-cum oozed from Chris’ dick.
	“I think it’s working, sir,” Chris replied with a little smile.
	Jason gripped the slim boy under the arm and marched him over to
one of the stocks. Chris bent at the waist and had his neck and
wrists locked in place. Jason secured the boy’s ankles to iron
rings in the wooden base, this forced the boy to keep his legs
spread wide apart. From behind, Jason could see the
thirteen-year-old’s balls hanging in their soft pink sack. He
removed the young teen’s butt-plug and inserted a vibrating dildo
in its place.
	Chris gasped as the battery-powered prong began to massage his
adolescent prostate. He watched from the stocks as Jason dragged
a frightened and reluctant Alexei from his cage and began the
twelve-year-old’s training by securing him to the bondage frame
where Chris had spent a few agonizing hours during his first
night on the island. Alexei’s chastity cage was removed,
resulting in the boy experiencing an immediate and eager
five-inch erection. An erection that immediately received harsh
punishment from Jason who calmly and methodically applied a
leather penis whip to the boy’s misbehaving member. The young
Russian screamed every time the whip lashed his hard cock, but
the boy’s erection showed no signs of subsiding. Chris looked on,
feeling a confusing mix of sympathy and arousal. He was still
hard and leaking, the vibrating dildo buzzing away relentlessly
in his cute teenaged butt.

	William Durand’s study had two large glass doors that opened out
onto a fantastic view of the ocean. Doctor Trench sat back
leisurely and watched the waves.
	“More tea, ma’am,” Trevor asked politely. He was wearing a red
g-string and his slave collar and nothing else, holding the
teapot delicately in his hands.
	“No, thank you, Trevor.” The doctor gazed at him for a moment,
enjoying the sight of the teenaged boy’s smooth lean body, and
intrigued by the obvious absence of a teenaged bulge beneath the
thin fabric of the boy’s silken thong. She rather liked the way
he looked and mused that more boy slaves should be modified in
this sensible and aesthetically pleasing way. Perhaps some of the
boy gladiators would be undergoing this procedure before too much
longer.
	“Good morning, doctor,” Durand said as he came in from the open
porch, a small glass of wine in his hand. Trevor immediately came
around the desk and stood obediently beside his master’s chair.
Doctor Trench then noticed the boy’s crimson butt, clearly well
and recently disciplined, and the angry livid stripes that
crossed it. Durand ran his fingers playfully through Trevor’s
hair and swatted the boy’s rear end as he sat down. Trevor
winced.
	“You said you had the results of the boys’ blood tests,” Durand
began, getting down to business.
	“Yes, sir,” the doctor replied, opening a folder upon Durand’s
desk and sorting through the paper work. “Graznikov, Cloverdale,
Dulac, and the older Andrews boy all carry at least five of the
six genetic markers.”
	“So they are gay.”
	“Without question, sir,” the doctor replied emphatically.
“Casparev is developing into a healthy bi-sexual and shows all
the key genetic traits.”
	“That should increase his price substantially.”
	“That and his exceptionally large penis,” the doctor laughed.
“Several of the other boys also exhibit certain homosexual or
bi-sexual traits, but you must remember at their age boys are
easily aroused and quickly excitable. Genetically speaking the
others are all straight, with one exception.”
	Durand raised an eyebrow.
	“Daniel O’Hanlon appears to be asexual.”
	“That is rather unusual, isn’t it?” Durand asked, even more
intrigued than before and seeing enormous dollar signs flashing
before his eyes.
	“It’s exceedingly rare, sir, although it does happen in males
more frequently than females. We’ve already noticed that the boy
seldom has erections. By his own admission he has never
masturbated or even shown much interest in doing so. He did
produce a modest amount of prostatic fluid during his recent
milking, but far less than a boy at his overall stage of sexual
development is normally capable of.”
	“Does this make him any more or less valuable to us?” Durand
asked, already thinking about how he could best offer this
unusual boy to wealthy visitors to the island.
	Doctor Trench understood exactly what he meant. “That depends a
great deal upon the specific interests of the client. I believe
he would command a higher price from women than from men. And of
course he is still capable of arousal, given the proper
stimulation. I would strongly recommend we take him off the
hormonal regimen the other boys are receiving for accelerated
penile growth and instead begin regular dosages of testroxil.
There’s no reason a boy like this should be running around with a
huge penis between his legs. The testroxil will render him
totally incapable of erections in a matter of weeks and shrink
his genitals substantially.”
	“I’m familiar with the drug. Trevor began receiving doses of it
when he was eleven.”
	Trench nodded. “We’ll be using a newer version that works very
quickly. We’ll see the desired results within a period of weeks
rather than years. And just like with your boy here,” she
gestured to a blushing Trevor, “the results of the treatment are
reversible, so once his indenture expires, his parents can
restore him, if they choose.”
	“Thank you, doctor,” Durand said. “Make the switch for the
O’Hanlon boy. I’ll pass the rest of this information on to our
marketing people so that we can begin putting together a
catalogue for our most privileged guests.”
	“Any of these boys would make fine companions for an evening.”
	“Indeed.”
	
	Jason had finished with Alexei some time ago. Natasha was
currently teaching the boys a memorable lesson in just how
vicious and brutal a woman can be. The two boys were hanging by
their wrists from a single heavy chain that hung down from the
ceiling. They were face to face, chest to chest, their sweaty
naked bodies pressed together. Twelve-year-old Alexei’s cock was
now encased in a leather sheath the same as thirteen-year-old
Christopher’s and both had one pound weights dangling from the
scrotums, pulling their young balls downward between their legs.
The chain was just long enough for Chris’ toes to touch the
floor. Poor Alexei, several inches shorter, was hanging
helplessly.
	They were being whipped on their backsides, from their shoulders
all the way down to their thighs. Natasha would crack the lash
against Chris’ back, then walk slowly around, dragging the
leather tawse on the ground, and then unleash an equally savage
blow on young Alexei’s defenseless body. As she moved in a
deliberate circle around the two gasping and sobbing boys, she
could hear the vibrating dildos currently stuffed into their
butts.
	Chris and Alexei found some measure of comfort in one another,
but their hard dicks were laced up tight in the leather sheaths,
and even as they rubbed against each other, neither boy could
have an orgasm.
	In the end they were released from the chain and marched over to
the shower area, the dildos still pulsing away in their rectums,
the weights still hanging from their balls. Even in the leather
penis sheaths, Natasha could see that both boys were still erect.
She hosed them down with a powerful spray of cold water. Too
exhausted to take any more punishment, the boys wound up on the
tile floor, clutching each other tightly for warmth. Natasha
tormented them for a few more minutes, then she turned off the
water and left them there, huddled together, wet and naked and
miserable. The door to the training room closed and locked,
leaving Chris and Alexei alone until Jason came back for them.
	

Chapter 18:

	“Get up, slaves!” Jason shouted as he stood over the two naked,
wet, and shivering boys. The sight of their slim hairless bodies,
lying there helpless and exhausted was certainly arousing. He
gave Chris a quick poke with the electric prod. The boy yelped
and struggled to his feet, wincing and moaning as the lead
weights swung from his balls. Alexei decided not to wait for the
prod and slowly got his legs beneath him.
	“Stand at attention!”
	The thirteen and twelve-year-old boys immediately assumed the
required position, hands behind their heads, backs arched, legs
and feet spread wide apart. Both boys still had the leather
sheaths around their cocks. Jason could see the tips of the boys’
penises poking out of the ends. He wrapped his hands around the
two sheaths, feeling each boy’s meat encased in black leather.
Chris appeared to be half hard, while young Alexei sported a firm
rigid twelve-year-old erection.
	“Don’t move,” Jason told Chris, giving the boy a sharp smack on
the butt. He marched Alexei back over to the set of chains from
which both boys had been hanging earlier. Again young Alexei
found his wrists chained and pulled above his head. This time he
was allowed to keep his feet on the ground. Jason adjusted the
pulley, pulling the boy’s arms upward and stretching the
twelve-year-old’s lean torso until the boy’s ribs became clearly
visible beneath his skin. He removed the one-pound weights and
stretcher from Alexei’s balls.
	Alexei sighed in relief.
	“Do these hurt?” Jason asked, gently squeezing the pre-teen’s
swollen tortured balls.
	“Yes, sir,” Alexei answered.
	Jason let go of the twelve-year-old’s surprisingly big testicles
and let them dangle freely between the boy’s beautiful legs. He
carefully unlaced the cock sheath, taking his time to make sure
he didn’t send the boy into orgasm. With the sheath removed,
Alexei’s healthy five-inch erection stood up in all its boyish
glory.
	“Come over here, Zero-Seven,” Jason ordered.
	Chris immediately shuffled over, still taking care not to let
the weights hanging from his balls swing too much between his
legs. Jason positioned Chris in front of the chained
twelve-year-old.
	“Get on your knees and suck his cock.”
	The thirteen-year-old dropped to his knees and stared for a
moment at Alexei’s erect penis. It was certainly a lot smaller
than Jason’s was, but it was throbbing wildly. Alexei was five
inches long, but he was very thick. In fact, Chris realized that
Alexei’s dick was actually a little bit thicker than his own. For
the novice cocksucker-in-training it would prove to be a perfect
mouthful. Chris shut his eyes and closed his lips around the
young Russian’s penis.
	Alexei let out a sharp gasp. “Ooooh, yeaahh,” he sighed. It was
a good thing he was chained by his wrists because his legs
instantly went limp. The twelve-year-old had only discovered
masturbation six months earlier, and he’d never even imagined
what it would feel like to have another boy sucking on his dick.
The fact that it was the cute athletic American boy made it that
much better. Chris began bobbing his head up and down on Alexei’s
shaft. Jason looked on, now with a riding crop in his hand,
making sure Chris was doing his best.
	“Take all of him in your mouth, Zero-Seven,” he said, swatting
the teenaged boy’s behind with the crop.
	“mmmmph.”
	 “I want your nose right up against his skin.” Jason snapped the
crop again.
	“mmmmmmph.”
	Chris obeyed and took more of Alexei’s five-inch boner into his
mouth, finally feeling the soft silken hairless skin of the
twelve-year-old’s abdomen pressing against his nose. Somehow
being on his knees, sucking a younger boy’s dick was really
making Chris horny. Even though he’d been milked by the machine
the day before, his need to cum had only grown stronger. He was
desperate for an orgasm. He reached his left hand down between
his legs and tried to stroke his cock through the confining
leather sheath. It didn’t do him any good, and another stinging
blow from the crop was his reward.
	“Don’t you dare touch yourself, young man,” Jason said. “The
sheath is there for a reason. To remind you that you can’t ever
jerk off. Your job is to suck Zero-Four’s cock. That’s all you
should be thinking about right now.”
	Chris groaned in frustration, but pulled his hand away from his
penis. The thirteen-year-old now sported a raging erection. A
line of pre-cum was hanging from the tip of his dick, and there
was a small puddle of it on the floor between his legs. Chris put
his hands around Alexei’s waist and ran them slowly down the
twelve-year-old’s behind.
	“Aaaah,” Alexei shouted aloud, his eyes open wide. The touch of
Chris’ hands on his butt was electrifying. “Oh, yeah! Suck me!
Suck my big meat, Chris!” Alexei began to buck his hips, slowly
at first, but working faster and faster, trying to drive his cock
into the older boy’s mouth.
	“Make him cum, Zero-Seven,” Jason ordered.
	Chris didn’t even hear his trainer. He was too busy and too
focused. He wrapped his right hand around Alexei’s ball bag and
slowly squeezed the twelve-year-old’s testicles. Chris had
recently discovered how great it felt to play with his balls and
give them a good squeeze just before he had an orgasm. He figured
Alexei would enjoy it too.
	The twelve-year-old’s body tensed a few seconds later and he let
out a high-pitched shout of ecstasy as his orgasm shook his young
body. Chris felt the boy’s cock straining and pulsing in his
mouth and then the twelve-year-old’s hot thin seed began to fill
his throat. Alexei had never had such a powerful orgasm in his
life. Chris was taken by surprise, unable to swallow all of the
pre-teen boy’s ejaculate. It dribbled from his lower lip and down
his chin. Alexei hung limp by the chains, panting and moaning in
post-orgasmic bliss.
	Chris stayed on his knees. Jason held the crop beneath the boy’s
chin and forced the boy to look up at him. “Clean up your mess,
boy,” he said. Chris went down on all fours and began to lick his
own pre-cum and Alexei’s milky sperm from the floor. Jason stood
back for a moment to enjoy the sight of a naked thirteen-year-old
boy on his hands and knees cleaning the floor with his tongue.
Jason adjusted his own erection and released Alexei from the
chains. He locked the boy’s chastity device in place once more
and put the young Russian in the cage. He forced a ball-gag into
the boy’s mouth and pulled the leather straps tightly, then he
slammed the door of the cage and locked the twelve-year-old slave
inside.
	Finished with his humiliating task, Chris had returned to his
knees, his hands behind his head, waiting for his trainer’s next
orders.
	“Go over to the bed,” Jason told him. “I didn’t say you could
stand up. Crawl over there on your hands and knees.”
	Dragging the weights from his balls, Chris crawled to the bed.
It was really just a thin bare mattress, with leather straps and
metal clasps for securing a boy in a variety of positions. Each
of the special training rooms had a bed like this one. The boys
would come to know them as ‘the fucking beds’. Chris was going to
be the first boy to be placed on one.
	Jason put Chris on his back and secured the boy’s wrists to the
frame, hooking the rings on the thirteen-year-old’s shackles to
the clasp attachments at the corners of the bed. The boy’s arms
were now splayed out. It was impossible for him to move them.
Chris was expecting his ankles to be locked down as well, but
this did not happen. Jason removed the ball stretcher and unlaced
the leather sheath, finally freeing Christopher’s penis, which
immediately swelled to its full six-inch length. Jason ignored
the boy’s erection and grabbed the young teen’s ankles, bending
the boy’s knees up to his chest.
	“Don’t put your legs down.”
	Jason tugged on the end of the plug in the boy’s butt and pulled
it out.
	“Aggghh!” Chris shouted. His penis however got even harder, and
a large amount of pre-cum dribbled out of it onto the mattress.
	Jason meanwhile had removed his clothes, his hard eight-inch
cock pointing menacingly toward the naked thirteen-year-old boy.
Chris was a virgin, but he wasn’t naïve.
	“You’re . . . going to put that inside me . . . “
	“Clever boy. You’re going to have a million cocks up that cute
little ass of yours by the time your indenture expires, but mine
is going to be the only one you remember. Mine is going to be
your first.”
	“Is it . . . is it going to hurt?” Chris asked in a frightened
whisper.
	“Yes. At first. But once you get used to it, you’ll probably
start to enjoy it. For your sake you’d better enjoy it. You’re
going to be very popular with our guests.”
	Jason knelt on the mattress, pressing his hands against the
backs of Chris’ drawn-up legs. Chris could feel the man’s cock
brushing against his hole. He could feel Jason’s weight. Chris
weighed exactly one-hundred and two pounds, probably less after
these first few days on the island. He had no hope of resisting
his trainer.
	“It will go easier for you if you relax, Chris,” Jason said
softly.
	Chris nodded and bit his lip. He felt the tip of Jason’s cock
pressing against his little opening now. “Oh, no . . . no,
please, don’t do this to me . . . I’m not . . . I’m not ready for
this . . .”
	Hearing young Chris beg and plead so earnestly only made Jason
that much hungrier for the innocent boy’s flesh. He bore down,
slowly but relentlessly pushing his cock into the young teenager.
Chris screamed and thrashed his head on the mattress. Jason
pushed even harder, driving his eight-inch pole further into the
boy’s soft virginal rectum. Chris shrieked and cried, but it did
him no good. He was a slave. Slaves get used for all kinds of
things and in all kinds of ways.
	After a few more minutes, Jason had finished impaling the boy on
his dick and was now giving Chris a good slow fuck. The boy’s
shrieks and screams had quickly turned to moans and groans and
little high-pitched whimpers, sounds of pleasure mixing with
pain. Chris could no longer tell the difference. Between his legs
his cock was hard and throbbing. He pulled against the bonds that
held his wrists, desperate to stroke his aching rigid boyhood.
	Jason could read the boy’s eyes and he smiled cruelly.
	“Poor boy, can’t touch your hard little wiener, can you?”
	“No, sir . . . aahhhh, ooohhh . . . please . . . I wanna
cummmmm, sir . . . “
	“I know you do. If you can cum from getting your ass fucked,
good for you. If not, too bad.”
	Jason kept going at a slow, easy pace for a while, driving young
Chris crazy with need. The pleasure the boy was feeling deep
inside his body was indescribably wonderful, and yet unbearably
frustrating. Finally after nearly twenty minutes, Jason began to
speed up, sending powerful thrusts into the boy, driving his own
aching erection deep into the boy’s tight, warm opening. Each
spearing thrust was now hitting the thirteen-year-old’s already
overstimulated prostate. Soon young Chris was purring and
groaning and panting. Moments later a slow steady trickle of
white fluid issued from the boy’s penis.
	“Oh, man . . . ohhhh,” Chris whined. It was just like the
milking machine all over again. He was cumming, but he wasn’t. He
could see the stuff dribbling weakly out of his hard frustrated
dick, but he wasn’t having an orgasm. His own confused misery was
suddenly interrupted by a load growl from Jason. Chris could feel
his trainer’s cock expand and begin to spasm inside him. Jason
came, violently, filling the boy with his seed. He remained
inside the boy for a few minutes. Chris stared up at him. Neither
of them spoke. Jason stroked the backs of Christopher’s thighs,
then reached down and jiggled the boy’s balls.
	“Ah, yeah . . . feels nice,” Chris said.
	“I told you you’d enjoy it after a while.”
	Chris nodded and smiled and wiggled his hips, causing his
erection to bounce around.
	“Get your dick soft, Chris.”
	Jason left him there on the bed for a few minutes. The boy’s
penis was still half erect when Jason returned with the chastity
device. Jason used the riding crop on the young teen’s
misbehaving member several times. With his penis soft, Chris
looked on as the chastity device was put back on and locked in
place. He noticed that the spike attachment was different this
time, the spikes were longer and more numerous.
	“The first set we had on you were just trainers. You’ll be
wearing these spikes from now on. You might still try to have an
erection, but it won’t last for long.”
	Looking at the mean spikes and knowing how much pain they would
be causing him, Chris nodded in eager agreement. “I hope not.”
	“One more thing. Stand up and be still.”
	Chris looked on rather puzzled when Jason produced a short metal
rod about three inches long with a bulbous end. “This is a penis
plug. It goes into your piss slit. See how it tapers out toward
the top . . . that keeps it from sliding out.”
	Chris’ eyes were wide with terror.
	“It doesn’t hurt, but it is humiliating. This will keep your
penis from leaking all the time.”
	Jason worked the tiny plug into Chris’ dick. Then he bent the
boy over and put the butt-plug back in.
	“Now you’re plugged at both ends, boy.”
	Chris nodded silently and looked down at his caged cock. The
little round tip of the penis plug was clearly visible sticking
out of his dick.
	Natasha returned a few moments later. Chris and Alexei were
chained together once more and marched out to the hippodrome to
get more practice with the chariots, Chris once again harnessed,
Alexei once again driving him around the track.

	Inside training room number two, eleven-year-old Ian Cloverdale
was screaming loudly, his high-pitched shrieks bouncing off the
soundproof walls. The boy was currently being hung from the
ceiling by his genitals. Not entirely of course. He was
horizontal, hanging about two feet above one of the bondage
tables. His body was stretched taut with his wrists and ankles
suspended by sturdy chains which took some but not all of his
seventy-pound weight. A thick leather strap had been tightly
buckled and locked around the boy’s penis and testicles. The
strap had four small steel rings imbedded in it, equally spaced
around the circumference. From each ring a two foot length of
thin but strong chain ran up to a sturdy clasp which joined them
all together. This clasp was chained to an adjustable pulley
system. Ian’s trainer, Anthony, had slowly pulled the boy’s small
hairless body upward by his genitals, forcing the
eleven-year-old’s back to arch painfully as his wrists and ankles
were immobilized. Presently the pre-teen had four pounds of
counterweight attached to the other end of chain that was pulling
on his balls. His own body was pulling on them as well. At the
moment, the boy’s cock and balls had been stretched about two
inches away from his body. Anthony cruelly set the lead weight
swinging.
	Ian screamed again, terrified they were going to rip his
boy-parts off. Ian’s penis had been erect when Anthony had first
secured the leather strap, and the strap was put on so tightly
that the boy could not lose his erection. In spite of his pain
and terror, the boy’s three-and-one-half-inch boner was still on
display, now having turned a dark shade of purple.
	“Pleeeease, sir,” Ian begged and gasped, “my willie hurts sooo
bad!”
	Anthony smacked the boy on the thigh. “You’ll be getting worse
than this, matey,” Anthony told him. “We need to toughen you up a
bit more.” He selected a thin riding crop from the torture
devices on the wall. Ian screamed again when he saw it.
	Over on the bed, thirteen-year-old Illya was on his hands and
knees, his trainer and older brother Sergei mounting him roughly
from behind. Illya was still in his chastity device, his cock
dripping and trying painfully to harden as his brother fucked
him. Sergei had been having his way with his little brother for
almost three years now, but this time it was different. Illya was
a slave now, and Sergei no longer had to worry about not hurting
him. Illya closed his eyes and whimpered. He didn’t exactly hate
it when his brother did this to him, but with his cock locked
away and out of reach there was no way he could pleasure himself.
He bit into the mattress as Sergei got even rougher, spearing him
with relentless powerful thrusts. Ian’s shrill screams were the
only sounds he could hear.
	
	A cargo plane had just landed at the airstrip. William Durand
and the company’s security chief Mitchell Harwell stood on the
tarmac as the aircraft rolled to a stop. Young Trevor stood
behind his master, a silver chain running from his collar to a
small bracelet on Durand’s right hand. The chain was not the
thick heavy iron variety worn by the boy gladiators. It served a
mostly decorative purpose. Trevor’s only clothing this afternoon
was a very short and very tight pair of white running shorts.
They hugged his lean body in a most alluring way, showing off his
sweet round teenaged butt, and accentuating the almost perfectly
smooth area where his tiny and totally dormant genitals lay
hidden.
	“Special shipment today, Harwell?” the XB1 chief asked.
	Harwell nodded. He’d flown down late yesterday to begin making
arrangements for the arrival of spectators and special guests to
the island. The first day of competition was only three days
away. “I’ve got some equipment on board to help us keep tabs on
our visitors, and the first portfolios should be arriving
tomorrow.”
	“So we’ll know who our most prominent guests will be.”
	“Precisely. Most of the luxury suites are already booked for the
first week.”
	“Excellent.”
	Harwell returned his attention to the plane. “The plane also has
our mules on board. We’ll be off loading them last.”
	Durand nodded. ‘Mule’ was a pejorative, though ironically
accurate term for a boy slave used specifically and exclusively
for hard labor. Mules were becoming an increasingly common sight
in both public and private venues, and XB1 was importing six of
them to carry out a variety of unpleasant duties on the island.
Too much money and training was being invested in the boy
gladiators to use them for such purposes, they were far too
valuable to be used in that way. Harwell handed Durand a single
file that contained the names and ages of the six boys. The
youngest was thirteen, the oldest was sixteen. All of them had
been slaves for at least five years.
	“I assume they’ve been implanted with behavioral inhibitors?”
Durand asked.
	“Of course,” Mitchell Harwell replied. “The controller has
already been set up in the administration building. If any of
them act up or cause trouble, a simple push of a button will
render them quite harmless. I don’t imagine you’ll ever need to
use it. These boys have been well indoctrinated by now.”
	Two of Harwell’s security team, wearing military-style uniforms
with the XB1 logo on their sleeves came down the ramp of the
cargo plane. Behind them, pulling a large pallet containing
Harwell’s surveillance equipment, came the six mules. The
youngest and smallest boys first, the oldest and largest last.
The boys wore simple short sleeveless gray tunics that ended just
below their navels, leaving them each naked from the waist down.
They wore the same iron collars and shackles that the boy
gladiators had become so familiar with so quickly. The boys also
were kept in head harnesses, with larger rubber bits in their
mouths. The boys were hairless. Completely hairless, even their
heads were shaved. Presently the only hair on their young bodies
was their eyebrows and lashes. The tunics all bore the XB1 logo
with each boy’s seven-digit slave number beneath it. Each boy had
a barcode tattooed on the back of his neck registering this same
number. The boys’ genitals were currently not visible, since each
boy had his cock and balls locked into a small spherical metal
pod. The pods could be opened with the turn of a key, but there
was seldom any need to free the boys’ genitals from their
permanent state of chastity. Generally the only time a mule had
his genital pod removed was to exchange it for a slightly larger
one as he grew older.
	“I assume they are all housebroken?” Durand asked whimsically.
	“Naturally, William. They are animals, but they are fully
domesticated. They’re all wearing butt-plugs.”
	“You’ll take charge of their work details, I assume?”
	“Of course, sir.”
	They watched as the boys passed close by them, pulling the heavy
pallet. The young slaves emitted boyish grunts and groans. Their
small lean bodies showed clear signs of years of hard physical
labor. Trevor gazed at them from the safety of his master’s
shadow. He never liked being around other boy slaves. It reminded
him too much that he was one himself.

	“Andrews, C., Andrews J,” the island-wide speaker system
announced. It was the same menacing and commanding voice the boys
had heard in the arena. “You are to report for your weekly phone
call.”
	Five minutes later, Chris and Josh were being marched to the
administration building by their trainers. “This is the only time
you boys are allowed in here,” Jason reminded them. “This is a
privilege, so behave yourselves. No talking once we get inside.”
	“Yes, sir,” the brothers said in unison. They hadn’t seen each
other at all since breakfast.
	“How’s it hangin’, Chris?” Josh asked quietly as they walked
toward the big building.
	“About the same as yours,” Chris replied smartly.
	“I haven’t been hard all day,” the eleven-year-old observed. “My
dick tried to get stiff a couple times, but it just can’t go
anywhere. This thing is sooo tight, Chris. My balls are like up
inside me.”
	“Sucks, I guess,” Chris said. He couldn’t feel too much sympathy
for his little brother, not with the metal cage around his dick
and the evil sharp spikes just waiting to deal with any forbidden
erections.
	“Hey, what’s that thingy stickin’ out of your dick?” Josh asked,
noticing the silver ball protruding from the tip of his older
brother’s penis.
	“Jason told me it’s a penis plug. Keeps me from leaking.”
	“Looks kinda cool,” Josh said sarcastically. For the first time
he was quite happy that his genitals were completely encased and
covered by the metal plate on his chastity belt.
	The brothers were taken to a small room near the service
entrance. There was a large monitor on the wall. The XB1 logo was
on the screen. Two long chains were used to attach the boys’
collars to rings mounted in the floor. Chris and Josh could move
around the room quite freely, but the chain would not allow them
to reach the door, or the controls on the monitor. Jason quickly
explained the rules.
	“Your parents will appear on the screen. They can see you and
hear you. Normally each boy gets fifteen minutes a week. Since
the two of you come as a package, we’re giving you twenty-five.
You can say whatever you want to them. When your time’s up, the
screen will turn off automatically. You will then stand at
attention and wait for someone to come get you. It may or may not
be one of us.”
	Their trainers turned and left them, locking the young brothers
into the small room.
	“I can’t wait to talk to mom ‘n dad,” Josh said, his big brown
eyes dancing with excitement.
	“Yeah. Mom’s gonna totally freak when she sees us.”
	Josh suddenly realized the implications of two-way visual
communication. “Oh, shit! They’re gonna see me with this belt
on.”
	The Andrews brothers didn’t have time to worry about it, as the
monitor flickered for a moment and then the image of their living
room back home appeared on the screen. The boys’ parents were
staring back at them. Chris instinctively clasped his hands
between his legs, covering the chastity cage. Josh blushed
fiercely. It was one thing running around like this with your
brother and eight other boys and the trainers and guards on the
island. Having your mom and dad see you was considerably
humiliating.
	“Hi boys,” their mom said, moving closer to the screen.
	“Hi, mom, hi, dad,” Chris replied. He was happy to see them, but
it was also sort of weird. He was a slave now, and they really
weren’t his parents anymore. Strictly speaking, he didn’t have
parents anymore. He had trainers and owners and no status at all
as an individual.
	“Hi guys,” Matthew Andrews said to his sons. “How’s it going?”
	“Okay, I guess,” Chris answered.
	“Yeah,” Joshua chimed in. “They’re training us to be gladiators
right now. It’s real hard sometimes, but Chris ‘n me are doing
awesome!”
	Chris laughed and nudged his little brother in the ribs. “I’m
doing awesome. You were in last place last time I checked.”
	“Shut up, Chris.”
	“Why are you in last, Josh?” his dad asked.
	“’Cause I keep makin’ trouble, I guess. We get demerits every
time we do something wrong or break a rule.”
	“That’s our Josh,” their mom replied with an anxious laugh. It
was obvious she was still not entirely happy at the decision
they’d made to indenture the boys until their sixteenth
birthdays, but she was doing her best to keep a positive face.
	“Guys we went ahead and sold all your clothes and shoes and toys
and stuff,” their dad told them.
	The two boys looked shocked for a moment, but then they quickly
realized that none of their stuff would fit them when they were
finally freed from their indentures.
	“That’s okay,” Chris said. “We really don’t need them.”
	Josh nodded. “Yeah, we aren’t allowed to wear clothes anymore.
It’s kinda weird bein’ naked all the time.”
	“What’s that belt you have on, sweetie?” his mom asked.
	Josh turned beet red and stammered out an embarrassed answer.
“The trainers here call it a chastity belt or something. It keeps
my . . . you know my thing . . . it keeps it from, well, you know
. . . “ the eleven-year-old finally spit it out, unable to look
at his mother as he said it, “it keeps me from getting a boner. I
have to wear it all the time. Chris has one on too.”
	Chris shyly removed his hands from his middle and showed his
parents the metal chastity cage locked around his teenaged
genitals, the end of the newly inserted penis plug clearly
visible. His dad whistled in surprise and sympathy. His mother,
strangely, did not seem as horrified as he thought she would.
	“Well, boys really shouldn’t be running around with erections
anyway, should they?” she said.
	“No, mom,” the brothers replied in unison.
	“I always thought you boys played with yourselves way too much.
Especially you, Chris. Maybe those things will teach you some
self control.”
	The faces of the already blushing boys got even redder. How
could their own mother say stuff like that to them?
	“We saw the commercial for the show,” their dad told them.
	“You mean we’re already on TV!” Josh asked excitedly.
	“Sure are.”
	“Were we in it, dad?” Chris asked.
	“Yep. We saw you pulling some cart, Chris. And we saw Josh
wrestling another boy.”
	The two boys stared at each other rather dumbfounded. Up until
now, everything had happened so quickly, every second of their
lives since they’d arrived on the island had been strictly
controlled. Already neither of them could tell exactly what day
it was. Suddenly the reality that they were going to be seen all
around the world, doing all sorts of dangerous and painful and
probably humiliating things began to set in.
	“First episode is next Saturday night,” their mom told them.
“The guide says it’s going to be filmed live.”
	The boys continued talking with their parents until the screen
flashed. They then shouted quick good-byes and the monitor went
dark. Remembering their instructions, Chris and Josh stood with
their hands behind their heads and waited for someone to come get
them. Josh’s eyes were wet. Seeing his mom again was really hard.
He really wanted to go home, but he knew he couldn’t. He had to
be brave. He didn’t want his brother to see him crying, so he bit
his lower lip and stared straight ahead. If any of the other boys
ever found out he cried when he saw his mom, he’d never live it
down. Chris was lucky. He was thirteen. He’d be free in less than
three years. Josh was eleven. He had five more years of life on
the island.
	
	
	
	
	
