Istari

Worldwide Boy Gladiators

Chapters 37-40

"You'll get your chance. Now behave yourself." Roger smacked the back of Gabe's head to keep him in line. The former United star understood the boy's excitement, he got the same feeling every time he stepped onto a field, but the first match was still a month away. Besides, the boy would probably not be so happy when he learned about the special rules of Gladiator football.

With the mules engaged in other menial activities around the island, it was left to the gladiators themselves to prepare the field for the night's event. Under the supervision of the trainers, the boys used hoses to wet the center of the field, quickly turning it into a muddy quagmire. Being high-spirited boys, they soon turned the hoses on each other, laughing and giggling, spraying each other in the face and chest and generally having the kind of unruly fun that only boys seem to appreciate. Poor Ian was still receiving regular shocks to his penis from the battery-powered unit taped to his leg, but it didn't stop him from joining in the youthful mayhem. Fourteen-year-old Philippe, with his tongue still stretched out of his mouth and stuck between the two steel rods was quite delighted to take as much water in the face as he could, more than enough to finally wash away the pepper oil they'd put there earlier. All of the other boys were more than happy to oblige.

Several of the trainers moved in with their shock sticks to break things up and restore order to the pack of naked boys, but Jason stopped them.

"Let them be boys for a while," he said, enjoying the sight of their lithe young bodies, quickly being covered in mud. "It'll do them good. Besides, they're just making the field muddier and slipperier . . . and wearing themselves out."

All the trainers agreed that a group of tired boys on wet and slippery ground would make the upcoming event a lot more dramatic.

When Jason blew his whistle ten minutes later, the boys were all covered from their necks down to their bare toes in muck. They quickly lined up with their hands behind their heads, no longer needing special instruction to assume this position. Jason was privately pleased that the boys had become so disciplined and submissive to authority so quickly. He and many of the other trainers had feared they would have a bunch of rebellious little hellions on their hands from day one, but the island's strict regime and the ever-present threat of punishment and humiliation worked wonders on the psyches of these young boys. Ten obedient young slaves now awaited their next challenge.

"I hope you all enjoyed your little mud fight. The boss wants you sparkling clean when this event starts."

With that, the trainers hosed the boys down front and back, washing away the muck and grime. The boys' feet remained quite muddy though since the center of the field was now satisfactorily swamp-like.

"Alright, trainers," Jason continued, coordinating the final preparations. The first spectators were just beginning to fill the stands. "Get their chastity devices off them and let's divide them up."

The boys were split into two teams of five. Illya, Chris, Danny, Josh and Miles made up the first team. David, Philippe, Gabriel, Alexei and Ian comprised the second. While these two line-ups would vary slightly as different events dictated, for the most part, whenever there was a five-on-five competition, this is how the boys would be distributed until the older boys' indentures began to expire. For this event, Illya would anchor the first team, who had quickly dubbed themselves the Tigercats at Danny's suggestion. David anchored the second team who were still arguing over what to call themselves when Jason's whistle blew yet again.

The stands were now full and the two teams were quickly lined up on opposite sites of the mud-pit. All of their dicks were soft at the moment, hanging lazily or flopping adorably between their legs as they anxiously shifted from foot to foot. Naturally they bent down to pick up the rope at their feet but were quickly ordered to stand at attention. The rope being used was not the thick heavy hemp variety customary for this event, rather a very thin nylon-composite, strong, flexible and virtually unbreakable under tension.

"You won't be using your hands for this event," Jason explained. All of the boys immediately began to get a bad feeling as to where the rope was going to be attached. "Stradle the rope, boys, and wait your turn. Hands behind your backs." The boys obeyed, setting their bare muddy feet on either side of the rope and clasping their hands behind them.

Josh craned his neck back and looked past Danny to his big brother. "That rope's goin' around our balls, isn't it?" he asked.

Chris nodded slowly and felt his penis stiffen slightly at the thought.

Working from David's end, Hannah and Elaina began securing each boy's hands behind him with handcuffs and silencing each of them with a ball-gag. They skipped Philippe, whose tongue was still held between the two metal rods. To his considerable relief, the pepper oil had finally lost its potency.

Working from Illya's end, Anthony and Natasha had the more complicated task of securing the rope to each boy. Illya winced as a short length of nylon rope was tied first around the base of his genitals, then wrapped tightly around his balls, stretching them downward and forcibly separating them. Anthony continued wrapping the rope around and between the thirteen-year-old's plump ripe balls until all the excess was taken up. The last loose ends were then tied to a small loop on the end of the main rope, which was now left hanging from Illya's balls. The tugging rope had nine more of these loops, positioned not coincidently between each boy's spread legs. Over the next few minutes all of the other boys had their balls tied off and attached to the main rope in identical fashion. Ian still had the sound in his dick, the mesh cap holding it place, the control unit still taped to his thigh. He would be competing in this event while receiving shocks to his already itching and aching penis.

The trainers had some difficulty coaxing Danny's now dormant testicles back down into his sack, but once this was accomplished the chemically castrated boy stood with his useless balls tied to the rope just like all the others. Miles, with his little ten-year-old marbles, also presented some problems, and he endured some rather rough handling until his balls were properly and tightly cinched by the slender rope. He ended up with a cute bouncing erection for all his pain and troubles. Any time little Miles sported a stiffy it always drew laughter and applause from the crowd, and this occasion proved no exception. He smiled for the cameras through his ball-gag and wiggled his hips in a lewd fashion, solidifying his reputation as the best little showman among the boy gladiators.

With the boys now tied to the tugging rope, the center line for the event was established with red flags on either side of the muddy pit. The rules for the event were very simple. At Jason's whistle, the two teams would start pulling in opposite directions. Each time a boy was pulled across the center line by his balls, he would be eliminated from the event, leaving his team one boy down. The first team with all their players eliminated would lose the contest.

The cameras were set. The crowd was more than ready. Jason raised his whistle to his lips and the latest cruel and humiliating competition for the boys began amid a flurry of flashbulbs and dramatic music. With their hands bound behind them and their bare feet on the slippery mud beneath them it was a struggle for the boys to dig in and get any leverage. Nevertheless, all ten of the young gladiators immediately felt the painful and relentless tug on their cinched-up ball sacks. Miles and Ian were the boys first in line on either side, closest to the flags and certain elimination. As the two teams pulled against each other, slipping and struggling for balance in the mud, the pressure on all their young balls grew worse and worse. It took only the first few seconds for all the slack in the rope to be taken up, resulting in blinding flashes of agony between all their young legs.

Illya and David, as the anchors, naturally got the worse of things, feeling every tug of the already taut rope. Gagged as they were, it was impossible for the boys to communicate with their teammates using anything other than grunts and groans. Just keeping their feet under them was a big enough challenge, but none of the boys wanted to lose. For five full minutes the two teams managed a stalemate, staring across the pit from each other, growling through their gags and using their muscular young legs to tug away with all their might even as tears came to their eyes.

Miles was the first boy to lose his footing and fall to the ground. He was quickly dragged shrieking by his balls through the mud and across the center line. The contest was temporarily halted while the ten-year-old was detached from the rope and his wrists untied behind him. His tiny genitals however remained snuggly and painfully cinched. He cradled them gently in his hands as he stumbled to the edge of the quagmire. He was immediately given ten demerits for touching himself, but he really didn't care since he'd won the marathon and was sitting on a whole mountain of bonus points. He figured he could afford to give up a few of them. Miles would watch the rest of the contest sitting in the mud, dejected to have been eliminated, but happy his tender little boy-parts weren't attached to that rope anymore.

With his recently sprained ankle, and the electric shocks still zapping his genitals every few minutes, it wasn't surprising that young Ian was the next to lose his footing and go down into the muck. Seeing him falter, the four remaining boys on the other side all tugged together, screaming into their ball-gags as their aching swollen balls were jerked violently by their efforts. Ian's team-mates tried their best to pull back, but looking down and seeing your balls being tugged away from your body has a rather disheartening effect a boy. All of them groaned in unison as they were pulled toward the center line. Ian was on his butt now, still bravely working his legs trying to find some footing that would let him get back up even as he was dragged closer and closer to the center of the pit.

Finally the whistle blew. The eleven-year-old Aussie was freed from the rope. He crawled over to Miles and sat down beside him, just as another jolt of electricity shot through his penis. He yelped pathetically and came very close to pulling the sound out of his dick. A quick glare from Anthony stopped him just in time.

"Don't even think about it, boy," he told his young charge. He bent down to the controller taped to the boy's thigh. "Just for that I'm changing the timer to one minute. If I see you trying that again, I'll increase the voltage too. Would you like that?"

With the big ball-gag still stuffed in his mouth, Ian vehemently shook his head no. Now he'd just made things worse for himself. He'd be having the inside of his penis shocked once a minute. He didn't even want to think about how it would feel if the power was turned up too. The shocks were having a strange effect on him. At first, they'd made his penis want to get hard, but now they seemed to be keeping him soft. His wiener, not exactly small for a boy his age though nothing compared to Joshua's giant organ, hung there now like a limp wet sausage. He didn't want it to get hard as that seemed to make the shocks more painful. He looked over at Miles, gagged just like he was, and the two boys shared a moment of commiseration.

With one boy eliminated from each team, another stalemate ensued, and this one looked like it might go on for a while. David and Illya, the two anchors, had finally gotten the hang of balancing themselves without the use of their arms by using their strong adolescent legs for leverage. The ground was still slippery beneath their bare feet, but they weren't sliding around as much. This gave their team-mates a chance to do the same. The two teams were now locked in a lengthy pulling contest, their ball sacks swollen and purple and very sore, their faces all clenched in anguished but determined grimaces. The cameras zoomed in for delightful close-ups of the pain and misery on each boy's face. Josh cursed at them through his ball-gag, even as his face filed the enormous viewing screen, his freckled little nose wrinkled up as he panted and struggled and pulled for all he was worth.

All of the boys had a constant stream of tears running down their cheeks now, to the joy and excitement of the crowd. This was what they paid for. Watching from the comfort of his private study, with a nude Trevor sitting obediently at his feet, William Durand was smiling. This was also what he had paid for. His investment in this show was already paying off in ways he could never have predicted. Proposals for licensing and merchandizing WBG products, and a lengthy prospectus for opening more 'Gladiator Island'-themed resorts all around the world currently littered his desk. He was particularly taken with the idea of marketing the boys' images and bodies for various suitable high-quality products. And Mattel's proposal for a full line of Worldwide Boy Gladiator Action Figures was sure to be a hit with young boys who dreamed of stardom, or just wanted to conduct their own gladiator events in their bedrooms. The international toy giant had sent him their prototype of one of the figures. It was most certainly Joshua Andrews, the facial and bodily likeness was uncanny, right down to the adorable miniature chastity belt. Durand was particularly amused to find that the Josh action figure was, in fact, anatomically correct.

'They've even got his big dick,' he'd thought with a smirk. He handed the toy down to Trevor.

"What do you think, Trev? Would you play with something like that?"

Trevor examined the plastic version of Josh. "I guess if I was a bit younger, sir. I'm too old for toys now, sir."

Durand ran his fingers through the boy's long blond hair. "Well, at least for those kinds of toys."

Trevor giggled and returned his attention to the tug-o-war. Durand noticed that the boy had not offered to hand the action figure back.

For almost ten minutes now the two teams had fought to a virtual stand-still. The crowd was getting restless for more eliminations.

"This is not good television," Mike Brussard told Jason through his head-set. "What exactly am I supposed to be filming here?"

"Alright, alright. Don't get your shorts twisted, Mike. We'll work on it."

The trainers decided it was best to turn the hoses back on and make the mucky field even slipperier and muddier, and if they happened to accidentally spray the boys down with frigid water in the process, well that would just add another element of difficulty to the event. The trainers grabbed the hoses and aimed them at the boys' feet, at least at first. It wasn't long before all the boys were being hit in the chest and face with harsh streams of ice-cold water.

The rabid crowd was now chanting for one or more of the boys to fall. They got their wish a moment later when Josh slipped backwards and fell onto his back, tugging his balls most painfully. Josh's fall caused Danny to lose his balance behind him and he too went down. Josh was quickly dragged by his ball-sack across the center line, and before the trainers could blow the whistle, David's team managed to pull Danny out into the pit was well. Jason stopped the contest and the trainers briefly conferred. Then, the first of the hot Gladiators controversies was born, as they decided this had to be a double elimination. Josh and Danny both had their balls detached from the rope and were marched over to the edge of the pit. Danny was struggling wildly and shouting into his gag as the trainers planted him on his butt next to an equally furious Josh. Daniel had not technically been pulled across the center line, and perhaps, by the strictest rules should have been allowed to stand back up and remain with his team-mates.

Fans who had been rooting for Danny's Tigercats, or had bet money on them, were vocally upset about this turn of events, but controversy, of course, makes for excellent sport.

Chris and Illya meanwhile were staring nervously at the muddy pit. Both of them were sporting firm erections by this time, though neither boy was paying much attention to that. All that was on their young minds now was the simple fact that when the contest resumed it would be four boys against two, and that they were on the short end of that equation. Illya was particularly nervous. He knew Chris was still not feeling well, so really it was more like four boys against one-and-a-half. He took the short time before the contest was reset to dig his feet into the muck as far as he could. He actually managed to get himself in fairly deep, his right leg, his strongest, in almost to his ankle. If the out-numbered gladiators had any advantage it was that the two of them were certainly the most muscular and well-built of all of these supremely athletic boys. A life in gymnastics had given Illya fantastic upper-body strength, and his legs were by far the thickest and sturdiest of all the boys. Chris, lean and wiry, had the perfect swimmer's body. He couldn't add much pure body mass to his depleted team, but he was all muscle and deceptively strong despite his slender appearance.

Unable to communicate because of their gags, both boys nonetheless came up with the same plan. Separately, but with like minds, they decided they would have to jump the next whistle, just a bit, not so much that they would be accused to cheating, but enough to catch David's team napping. They dug in and listened keenly for the starting whistle.

By sheer good fortune, Chris and Illya timed their start almost perfectly to the second as Jason's whistle began to blow. As they'd both hoped, David's team was caught off guard. Illya managed to shout a barely intelligible "Pull! Chris!" into his ball-gag. The two thirteen-year-olds worked their strong legs, momentarily ignoring the sharp pains in their tightly bound balls. On the other side of the pit, Alexei was the first boy in line. He was struggling fiercely to recover his precarious balance, slipping and sliding, his ball sack now pulled painfully out from his body, farther than he'd ever imagined it could go. The tension in the opposite direction from his three older team-mates was only making it hurt worse. With a look of surprise and agony on his face, he was pulled toward the center line, then back for a few seconds, then once again forward and past the two red flags. The whistle blew, announcing Alexei's elimination. The crowd applauded the brave bold effort of Boys Zero-Seven and Zero-Eight. As Alexei joined the other eliminated boys in the mud, the contest resumed, now at a somewhat more even 3-on-2.

For another five minutes, Illya's enormous strength and Chris' stubborn determination managed to keep a balance of power between the two teams. All of the remaining boys were now wet and miserable and fairly covered with mud from the waist down. The sun was setting and the bright lights that surrounded the field were coming on, casting eerie shadows. Clouds were building on the horizon, promising another night of rain.

After soldiering on as best his could, Christopher's sore feet finally betrayed him. He was tired and hurting, his balls were on fire, and he simply could not keep his throbbing feet under him for another second. He gazed back sadly at his team-mate. Illya could read the message in his fellow thirteen-year-old's eyes. The strongest, tallest boy on the island also had the softest, kindest heart. He figured he'd end up finishing this event by himself anyway, and so, for just a moment, he allowed himself to slip. Chris' elimination would thus appear to be mostly Illya's fault and not his own, sparing him some humiliation if not some punishment.

David's team took immediate advantage of Illya's 'slip'. Demonstrating some actual coordination for the first time, they all pulled together, screaming into their gags as the pain ripped through their balls. Chris screamed too as he skipped and stumbled over the center line and fell flat on his stomach into the mud. As he was marched over to the other boys sitting miserably with their butts in the muck, he looked back at Illya and give him a private smile. Illya nodded sharply, dug his feet in again as best he could and waited for the restart, a 3-on-1 which would certainly spell his quick, painful and messy defeat.

The crowd began chanting for him as he stood there, tall and brave and totally doomed. The cameras zoomed in on the boy-gymnast's fantastic young legs, presently caked with muck up to his knees. The cameras panned up slowly, pausing for just a moment at the boy's huge man-sized erection and his cruelly tied balls. They then passed over his lean muscular torso and finally stopped at his anguished but fiercely determined face. Illya had beautifully pale alabaster skin when he first arrived here, and frequent applications of powerful sunscreen had mostly kept him that way. While the other boys were all turning a golden bronze, a pinkish glow was the only evidence of Illya's weeks spent naked under the tropical sun. The boy stared into the camera, tired but still defiant, his hazel eyes soft yet full of boyish strength. He did not smile. He almost never smiled. It simply wasn't part of his character.

Jason gave David's team a few seconds to get set then blew the whistle. Even Illya himself was surprised just how quickly it ended. In a single coordinated effort, David, Philippe and Gabriel pulled back on the rope, groaning and moaning as their balls were tugged further away from their bodies. Illya was quickly uprooted from his dug-in stance and was now slipping and sliding through the mud, being pulled by his balls toward the red flags that marked the center of the pit. He managed to keep his feet under him, more than most of the other eliminated boys had done, but he was still forced across the imaginary line. The final whistle blew an instant later. Illya dropped to his knees and fell over onto his side. David, Philippe and Gabriel celebrated their victory in hooting hollering boyish fashion, but quickly discovered that jumping up and down was not a terribly bright idea with their balls cinched to the tugging rope.

The boys were all freed of their gags, except poor Philippe of course, and the ropes around their genitals were removed. All the boys were left with deep red marks and all of them now had scrotums ranging in color from dark red to dark purple and all quite painful. Most of them were feeling sick to their stomachs, that stabbing, deep, horrible feeling a boy gets after he's been kicked in the family jewels.

Having survived elimination, David, Philippe and Gabriel each received ten bonus points. Miles and Alexei, by virtue of being on the winning team got five. Chris and Illya for their bravery and strength in almost evening the odds against them were given three points each. Chris knew that three measly little points weren't going to help him avoid the punishment wheel tomorrow, but it felt good to be called out for special recognition after having such a painful and difficult week, which he knew was only going to get worse after he spun the wheel. Illya who was already near the top in points, as he always seemed to be, took his bonus with his usual quiet humility.

As a final reward, the winners got their cocks sucked by the losers. The losing team was lined up on their knees in front of the winners, in the same order they'd been tied to the rope. Thus Illya sucked David's aching frustrated dick, Chris got his first taste of the French boy's cock, Danny sucked Gabe's dick for the very first time, Josh had Alexei's rather thick sausage in his mouth (Josh's own long dick flapping flaccidly between his thighs), and Ian, still being shocked by the battery-pack, got to suckle on Miles' cute little pickle. Naturally it wasn't long before the five horny suckees were moaning and sighing and curling their toes as one by one they each came.

With the first ever Gladiators tug-o-war now successfully concluded, and with five of the boys wearing the warm afterglow of orgasm on their sweet young faces, the crowd departed leaving the gladiators and their trainers on the muddy field. With a few hours before the final event of the weekend, the first order of business was getting the mud-covered boys clean and sparkling again. The trainers quickly turned the hoses on the boys once again, ordering them to stand still and take the assault of ice cold water on their nude bodies. When every inch of them, except their bare feet, was clean, they finally had their ball-gags taken out.

"Man, my balls are gonna be hangin' down to my knees if they keep doin' things like this to us," Josh observed.

Ian agreed with a laugh that turned into a little shriek as his penis received its latest shock from the battery pack taped to his thigh.

"Mine already do, tavarich," Illya said with a smile, nudging Josh on the shoulder. It was of course an exaggeration, but Illya's plump testicles certainly matched his big penis in size, and his soft hairless scrotum did hang particularly low. He and Josh of course shared this situation in common, cute boy-sized bodies with exceptionally large genitals hanging comically out of proportion to the rest of them. Josh grinned back. It was the first time Illya had ever said a word to him or even acknowledged his existence. It was not that the Russian boy was unfriendly or arrogant, quite the opposite. He was in fact extremely shy and introspective, but his normally grim expressions and his tall stature made him rather an intimidating figure to the younger boy gladiators.

As a further reward for winning the tug-o-war, David, Philippe, Gabe, Alexei and Miles would all be allowed to go about without their chastity devices for the rest of the day. The normal prohibition against unauthorized erections was also lifted, although they were still strictly forbidden to touch themselves or each other. Having just climaxed moments earlier, the cocks of the four older boys were currently soft and spent. Little Miles naturally had his eager perpetual little boner sticking straight out in front of him. The ten-year-old, as was most often the case, didn't even notice it.

The winning team sniggered and pointed and teased the unfortunate Tigercats who all stood with their hands behind their heads as their genitals were locked away once again. Eleven-year-old Josh, who had just started having wet cums a few days earlier was now hornier and more desperate to play with his dick (or have his brother suck it again) than he'd ever been in his young life. The tight unforgiving confines of the chastity belt seemed more miserable to him than ever. His penis swelled up, had no place to go, slowly deflated again and started the cycle all over again.

Hannah Dubose could read the wild sexual desperation in the eleven-year-old boy's brown eyes. His misery excited her, and a quick series of arousing thoughts flashed through her mind. Of course, as property of the company, young Joshua was strictly off limits for satisfying her most evil desires. She and Michela would most definitely have to acquire a boy of their very own.

Chained together by their collars once more, the boys were marched back to the arena through the sweltering tropical night. While containing all of the ultra-modern amenities within its walls, from the outside the domed arena was designed to recall the styles of ancient times, a smaller twenty-first century version of the coliseums of the Roman Empire. It was the centerpiece of Gladiator Island and it was currently lit around its perimeter in dramatic reds and blues. Late arriving visitors were still making their way through the elaborate main entrance. The boy gladiators received no such luxury. The steel security doors that sealed the entrance to the underground staging rooms buzzed open automatically as they approached and closed slowly behind them as they descended the dimly lit tunnel. None of the boys had any clue what awaited them, only that this was the last event of the weekend. Tomorrow would be a welcome day of rest for most of them, except for the unfortunate boy who ended the week in last place. His ordeal would just be starting.

Chapter 38
The Best Whipped Butt Contest

The main arena was full to capacity. Five whipping posts had already been set up, chains and manacles dangling ominously from their tops. Next to each post was a small table each bearing a selection of whips, strops, crops and, for the first time, the cruel knotted flagellums, purpose-designed to tear flesh from the backs of young boy slaves. Five harsh spot lights lit the five individual posts, five separate scenes of torture to be played out before a live worldwide audience. The arena was abuzz with anticipation. More than half of the spectators had entered their names into the lottery. As the camera teams finished setting up, a large rolling drum was wheeled out into the center of the arena by mule 1674, the youngest of the six boy-laborers on the island. He made no effort to acknowledge the crowd, but pushed the drum in place and quickly disappeared back down the tunnel, never once raising his head or shifting his eyes from his bare dirty feet. The lights lowered after the boy was gone and the crowd was left to stew in anticipation for a few minutes. Finally, from the same tunnel, young Miles appeared, once again wearing his cute master-of-ceremonies outfit: black vest, red gloves, black bow tie, and nothing else. His little penis was hard, as it always seemed to be when he knew he was on camera. A little bow tie had been placed around its base, to match the one around his neck.

Miles stepped up to the microphone without hesitation.

"Hi," he said, reading from the liquid crystal teleprompter positioned just off camera. "I'm Gladiator Zero-One, and I am the cutest little guy on this island." The ten-year-old winked and shook his little butt for the audience. "I'm your host tonight for the Best Whipped Butt contest." Miles continued reading the script, trying to make himself look like he was thinking the whole thing up as he went along. "Tonight, five lucky people will get a chance to whip the butts of five lucky gladiators." He paused and gazed over at the ominous whipping posts. "I'm sure glad I ain't gonna be lucky tonight!"

The crowd laughed. Miles wore a smug expression on his sweet round face, assuming that in his accustomed role as 'Boy of Ceremonies', he was naturally exempt from the upcoming drawing of names and numbers. "First we'll pick the members from the audience," he said with ten-year-old authority.

With his boner still sticking out comically in front of him, the little fellow marched over to the drum, already filled with the names of eligible audience members. At Mike Brussard's signal, the boy spun it several times, needing all his strength to finally stop it rolling.

"Wow, this thing's heavy," he said to the adoring but increasingly impatient crowd. He unlocked the small door on the side and reached his hand in, pulling out five cards in quick succession. As Miles dutifully read off the chosen names of the winners, Anthony and Sergei quietly emptied the drum and placed ten new cards into it, naturally bearing the numbers of the boy gladiators.

"Okay," Miles continued, handing the cards to Sergei. "Now I get to pick the lucky boys who'll get their butts whipped tonight. Are you ready?"

The crowd cheered him on. At this moment, the rest of the boy gladiators were marched into the arena in chains. Each boy took an assigned position beneath a red spot light and stood there staring out defiantly at the audience, as instructed. Several of them struck muscle poses, and Josh, as he was now known to do, stuck his tongue out at everybody and gave them all the finger. Thunderous applause echoed through the arena and once again Miles spun the big drum, really putting his shoulders into it this time. He stood back and watched it spin, letting it roll to a stop all by itself, just to prolong the drama. This was not something he'd been instructed to do, but Miles had already demonstrated a natural talent for theatrics, and so Brussard decided to just let the boy do it his own way.

With the drum once again motionless, and the crowd falling silent, Miles reached in and pulled out five cards. He looked down at the first one, then over to his partner Philippe.

"Boy Zero-Nine," Miles said into the microphone.

Philippe, whose tongue was still trapped in the cruel vice gag, simply bowed his head and marched over to the first whipping post.

Miles turned the second card over and read off the number. "Boy Zero-Two."

"Dammit!" Josh cursed aloud, but he too quickly and obediently marched over to the next post.

"Boy Zero-Six."

That was Gabriel. "Bring it on!" he shouted at the crowd as he strode cockily over to the post, his soft twelve-year-old dick swinging back and forth between his sturdy legs.

"Boy Zero-Eight."

That was Illya, who naturally showed no emotion whatsoever as he took the next spot down the line.

Miles was truly enjoying calling out the numbers of his fellow gladiators and watching them walk past him to their fate. He held the last card in his hands and stared over at the remaining gladiators. "Which one will it be?" he asked the audience playfully. He turned the card over and his playful mood quickly vanished. The look of shock and horror on his face was absolutely priceless and this would remain a great Gladiators moment throughout the long history of the show.

"Boy… Zero-One," he finally said, hanging his head in defeat.

The crowd laughed at him and applauded this deliciously evil turn of events. The rest of the boy gladiators all snickered at him. He stood there for a moment, wondering what he should do. He certainly hadn't planned on this happening. He felt like crying, but instead he bravely bit his lip, set the microphone down, stared directly into the camera and quickly stripped out of his vest and gloves. With a shrug of his shoulders he joined the four other 'contestants' for the evening's final event. He forgot to take off his bow ties, both the one around his neck and the one around his dick.

By now the selected audience members had gathered at the center of the arena. In all there were three men, one woman and one young boy, ten-year-old Sean who just a few days ago had learned the fine art of milking a slave boy. Having put young David through his paces that day in the medical suite, he'd since employed that new skill twice on the family's fourteen-year-old houseboy. So far this had been the best vacation he had ever had! Now it promised to get even better. The crowd had extra-loud cheers for him as he took his place among the grown-ups.

In genteel fashion, the woman was allowed to choose her boy first, followed by the males in the order their names had been chosen. The five boy gladiators stood at attention, their heads bowed as the woman examined each of them in turn. After a few moments of indecision, she returned to young Gabriel, placed a hand under his chin and lifted his face.

"British?" she asked in a London high-society accent.

"Yes, miss," twelve-year-old Gabe replied and blushed. Freed of his chastity cage, the boy's penis quickly hardened, an ample and proud five-and-one-half incher [14 cm].

"Turn round. Let me see your little bum."

Gabriel instantly obeyed, happy to turn his embarrassing boner away from her. He gasped when he felt her hands gently caressing his butt.

"Very nice. Firm. I'll take this one."

Anthony and Sergei, the trainers assigned to monitor this particular event made quick work of chaining Gabriel's wrists to the whipping post, leaving the helpless boy standing on his tip-toes.

Josh was selected by the biggest, tallest, most fearsome man of the three. With fear in his big brown eyes, he turned to face the post and raised his arms. Sergei did the honors of chaining him in place. "I think I know who the winner's gonna be," the plucky eleven-year-old told the young trainer in his typical smart-ass tone.

"Don't know about that," Sergei replied, his English considerably better than his younger brother Illya's. "But you certainly will not be sitting down for a while."

Little Miles was chosen by little Sean. It was the selection everyone hoped for. One ten-year-old whipping another ten-year-old. Miles wore a smug smile as he was chained to the post, figuring the kid would go easy on him since they were the same age. Sean of course had grown up with the family's slave boy and had been largely in charge of his discipline for the last two years. He enjoyed whipping his slave, and he would enjoy whipping this one as well.

When all five gladiators were hanging from their posts, the event was officially set to begin. The remaining gladiators were assigned to act as assistants to the contestants, handing them the desired whips and paddles. Predictably, Chris was assigned to assist the man who would be whipping his brother.

"Try not to cry," Chris whispered in Josh's ear as he took his place beside the post.

"Easy for you t' say, dickweed," Josh hissed back.

With a signal from Brussard that the camera teams were ready, Anthony addressed the contestants and the crowd. "At the sound of my whistle, each contestant has one hour to whip his, or her, chosen boy. Any or all of the implements of discipline on the tables in front of them can be used in any order and at any time they wish. In order for a lash to count, it must land in the strike zone, which is defined as the area stretching from below the boy's shoulder blades to above his knees. The boys' butt plugs may be removed and direct whipping of each boy's anus is permitted and encouraged. Blood can be drawn. No blows to the head or neck are allowed. The penalty for doing so, even accidentally, is instant disqualification. The boy must remain conscious for the entire hour. If your boy passes out, you will be eliminated from the contest. Judging will be conducted via electronic vote of the audience." Anthony then blew his whistle. "Let the whippings begin!"

Over the next hour, the sound of cracking whips, smacking paddles, swishing canes and thwacking strops on soft boyish skin combined with the wonderful chorus of high-pitched cries, shrieks, yelps and whimpers. After just the first few minutes all of the boys sported burning red backsides. Gabriel's erection had quickly subsided, and even Miles' perpetual boner was now a soft shrunken little morsel. Illya and Josh, of course, remained locked in their chastity devices, leaving fourteen-year-old Philippe alone as the only boy with a throbbing teenaged erection between his muscular legs.

Among the five contestants there were different strategies for winning the event. Several had opted to apply as many harsh blows as quickly and as often as they could, covering their unfortunate boys' backsides with angry welts, cuts and bruises both inside and outside the authorized 'strike zone.' The contestant working Josh proved to be a sadist of the highest and most meticulous degree, eschewing sloppy random lashes in favor of a leisurely pace, alternating from one implement to another in increasing severity and focusing almost entirely on Josh's butt. Josh's screams and shrieks were by far the loudest and longest and he'd quickly abandoned his brother's advice about not crying. Shouting his lungs out after each blow and letting the tears flow freely down his cheeks was the best way he knew to cope with the mounting pain.

Young Sean for his part was proving to be quite the artiste. His blows and lashes certainly lacked the force of the grown-ups, but the ten-year-old was placing them in a beautiful pattern of criss-crosses and welts, using poor Miles' back as a canvas for his latest experiment in inflicting pain on a slave boy. Not wanting to get his finest summer holiday clothes all sweaty, Sean had removed his button-down shirt, revealing a tight, wiry athletic little torso that resulted in several rather scandalous hoots and hollers from the crowd. Directing such calls at the boy gladiators, who had no legal status as human beings, was perfectly acceptable. Such behavior directed toward a free boy was another matter and the crowd quickly adopted a more decorous approach to their cheers for the young boy master.

After some hesitation as to his next step, he chose the thick heavy flagellum.

"That's going to make him bleed, sir," David, his assistant for the event, warned him gently.

Sean stared at the oldest boy gladiator, the one he'd milked just a few days earlier. "I didn't ask you, did I? I know what it's going to do."

Almost too big for the little boy, Sean hefted the whip, took a few practice lashes in the air, then applied it to Miles' behind. The result was immediate and horrific, tearing the littlest gladiator's skin and drawing blood instantly. Not at all bothered by Miles' shrill screams, Sean decided he simply did not like the aesthetic and set the whip aside, returning to the smaller flogger that had so far been his primary weapon. He alone had his assistant remove his gladiator's butt-plug and landed several perfect hits on his fellow ten-year-old's little rose-bud, resulting in a particularly beautiful series of boyish shrieks.

Exactly one hour later, Anthony again blew his whistle. The five boy gladiators hung limp and sobbing from their posts. All of them had remained conscious, although Chris had been required to frequently apply smelling-salts and few sharp slaps to keep his brother from passing out. All five of the boys bore a nasty array of welts, stripes and bruises. Miles and Josh were, in fact, bleeding, Josh rather profusely. The contestants, all sweaty from their own exertions, stood now beside their boys as one at a time close-up views of the freshly whipped backsides were flashed onto the big overhead screens. The electronic voting took only a few minutes. The winner was giant hulk of a man who had methodically tortured poor Josh for the last hour. In a very close second was young Sean, whose clever patterns and exceptional cuteness had won him lots of points.

The winner's prize, aside from a moment of international fame, was two hours alone with Josh in one of the special training rooms. The look of terror on the young eleven-year-old's face as he was led away in chains was utterly priceless. The face of a boy who knows he is going to be used and abused in all sorts of horrible and humiliating ways.

Young Sean's prize was to have his little cocklet sucked by the boy of his choice. Still angry at David for speaking out of turn, he naturally chose the oldest gladiator to perform this task, naturally back in the privacy of his family's luxury suite. The crowd got a particular thrill at the sight of tall fourteen-year-old David being dragged away in chains by the little ten-year-old master.

The remaining eight gladiators were once again chained together by their collars and marched out of the arena, to the beating pulse of the Worldwide Boy Gladiators theme music. The crowd dispersed, several of the wealthiest headed to a private affair at the Durand mansion, the rest back to their opulent rooms. Tomorrow was punishment day. No one was about to leave the island and miss that terrific event.

Back in the barracks, the final scores for the week were already posted. Thanks to his victory in the marathon, Miles was in first place. Illya finished a strong second, marking two weeks in a row in the top two. It came as no surprise to Chris that his name appeared in last place. What did surprise him was that he was not alone. By mere chance, young Ian had ended up with the exact same number of points. The punishment wheel was already set up at the front of the room.

The two boys shared a commiserating grin, knowing that tomorrow morning they'd be spinning that wheel together.

"Your brother didn't want to see what was on the wheel until he spun it," Jason said coming up behind Chris and laying a hand on the thirteen-year-old's shoulder. "Do you want to take a look?"

"No, sir. I'll wait."

Jason was a little disappointed at the boy's choice, but he respected Christopher's decision. The boys were all released from their chains, collars and shackles and given an hour of free time before bed. The four boys who had suffered on the whipping posts got a visit from the nurses and had soothing healing ointments applied to their burning backsides. All of them would be sleeping on their stomachs tonight. David was returned from his unpleasant but rather simple duty in time for the late evening snack. Josh had still not put in an appearance. He was still in the punishment room, chained on his tummy to one of the infamous 'fucking beds' and being fucked by a man for the second time in his brief life. The previous instance having occurred just an hour earlier in the same room, with the same man. The well-endowed eleven-year-old was still wearing his chastity belt. Hannah had offered the man the key, but he had declined.

"I'm not interested in what he's got in there. I don't care how big it is. All I want is his tight little boy ass. You been fucked yet, boy?"

Josh had shaken his head no with unmistakable fear.

"Well, first time for everything, isn't there."

Joshua's first time had been a nightmare of pain and suffering, clawing at the thin mattress beneath him as the man ripped the plug out of his little butt and rammed his long thick cock into him with a single forceful thrust. Josh's scream echoed through small stifling hot room.

"You're never going to forget me, boy, or this," the man growled, fucking poor Josh hard and with increasing violence.

To his own great shame, Josh felt his cock trying to harden inside his chastity belt, only this time the spikes lining the inner surface of the metal plate did nothing to make it soften. He was so horny and so frustrated, and even as the man brutally raped him, he felt something strange happening inside him, a deep desperate tingling that would not go away. After several minutes, his breathing quickened, he moaned and squealed and curled his toes and discovered that it actually was possible to have a cum even while he was wearing the belt. It wasn't like the one he'd had when the nurse had jerked him off in the medical suite, actually it felt weird and a little scary, more like the dreaded milking machine than anything else. He secretly hoped the man didn't know what he'd just done, but Josh had already learned to never trust his luck on Gladiator Island.

"Did you just cum, you worthless little shit?" the man yelled, still violating the boy's no-longer virginal hole.

"Y. . . yes, sir… I think so… "

"You think so?" he spat, mocking the boy's high-pitched voice. "You don't know? What are you stupid?"

"No, sir," Josh grunted and yelped as the man's thrusts grew even faster and harder. "I came, sir. I'm sorry, sir…"

"You will be. No boy cums when I'm fucking him. Ever."

But cum Joshua had. His meager squirts of clear semen were presently dripping out of the pee hole on his chastity belt, leaving a tell-tale wet-spot on the mattress. Blood and fluid from the boy's first fucking was running down the insides of slim but boyishly muscular legs. After the man filled the boy's butt with his seed, he unchained Josh long enough to make the boy lick his cock clean, then lick up his own immature seed from the mattress. He then dragged the exhausted, beaten and bloodied boy to the shower drain and proceeded to piss all over him. The man's urine stung sharply when it ran down Josh's back and over his wounds and cuts. After this nightmare, Josh was again thrown face down onto the bed, chained in place and subjected to a second brutal butt fucking.

At the end of two hours, Josh was delivered to the barracks, battered and broken, weak from all the blood he had lost. The guards laid him immediately on his bunk and the nurses carefully disinfected and dressed his wounds. A few permanent scars on his back would not be a bad thing where ratings were concerned, but Joshua Andrews had five years of slavery ahead of him and there was no need to damage him so thoroughly so quickly. Josh was beyond crying at this point, even as they touched his sensitive welted skin. He just lay there quietly, staring off into nothing. The only sound he made was a hopeless sigh when the nurse reinserted his butt-plug for the night and locked in place with the strap on his chastity belt. His last conscious memory until the next morning was swallowing a small blue pill they'd given him.

Across from him, young David lay awake most of the night, watching and listening rather terrified as the smaller boy wailed and moaned and thrashed around in his drug-induced sleep.

The private party at the Durand Mansion had ended just an hour ago, but the host was still very much awake. Bill Durand had a luxurious playroom in the basement of his colonial-style mansion. Soft lush carpeting, a large bed, leather padding on the walls, and all variety of chains, mounts, and implements of discipline for young Trevor. The boy even had his own small slave bed in the center of this softly lit room, really nothing more than a padded cushion with a series of d-rings positioned to strap the boy down in all manners of positions. There was a hanging spherical cage as well, in which Trevor would often sleep after a long night of rough use at his master's hands.

The boy was waiting there now, wearing all of his finest leather gear. Collar, ankle and wrist cuffs, waist and chest harnesses, thigh cuffs and a special mask which covered the lower part of his face ensuring his obedient silence. Master had been rather preoccupied lately with the show, and their visits to the playroom had been few and far between. Unable to experience erections or normal adolescent orgasms, Trevor found his sexual releases in somewhat more unusual ways. Simply wearing all the leather was quite a turn on. He was already panting and sweating and feeling that itch in his butt. He wanted his master inside him, desperately. When master had ordered him down to the playroom after cleaning up from the party, the boy could scarcely hide his excitement. He quickly washed up the last of the dishes, skinned out of the skin-tight spandex shorts master had put him in for the enjoyment of his guests, and scampered naked to the basement. He took his time putting on all the leather, enjoying the feel of it against his bare skin. He removed his 'every-day' butt plug and selected a much larger one from his master's collection, working it with slow determination into his small little opening.

When Durand arrived, Trevor was on his knees, his hands clasped behind his back, his head bowed in submission. His heart was pounding in his chest. Durand smiled at the beautiful fourteen-year-old boy before him. Their relationship was a complicated one to say the least. Having only scarce memory of his parents, Trevor thought of William Durand as his guardian and father, as well as his master. His boyish devotion to the man was deep and without question. Durand, for his part, in some small way at least, thought of Trevor as a son, but he was always careful to ensure the boy knew his place.

"Thank you for being so beautiful and obedient tonight, Trevor," Durand said with genuine affection. As always, young Trevor's efficient service and clever wit had been a highlight of the party. A well-trained slave boy reflects nicely on his master. Trevor knew this as well as Durand himself, and he took immense pride in showing his master's guests just what a perfect specimen of young teen boy slavehood he was. "What will it be tonight?"

Silenced by this special mask, Trevor pointed to the spanking bench. His bright eyes smiled.

"Were you jealous of those boys on the posts today?"

Trevor nodded.

"Does my little pet need a spanking?"

Trevor nodded.

Durand drew the boy into his arms and ran his hands down the gentle curve of the boy's back, working slowly around front to tickle his young slave's belly button. He bent forward slightly and suckled Trevor's nipples one at a time. The boy moaned and trembled. Durand moved his right hand between the fourteen-year-old's slim legs, fondling Trevor's tiny useless nub of a penis. It did not get hard. It never did. It never could, but Trevor still enjoyed those very rare occasions when master actually touched it. Trevor never touched it himself and often it would be weeks or even months before William Durand would show any interest in it at all. Trevor knew it wasn't important. Just a pointless little hose that he peed through. Why should master waste any time on it after all?

"Get on over there. Shall I use my hand, or something with a bit more bite?"

Already straddling the softly padded bench, Trevor pointed to an aluminum paddle with small holes drilled through its surface.

"Ah, so you want it hard tonight… I am only too happy to oblige. I'm sure you've done something wrong today that I don't know about."

Trevor smiled in his mask, wrapped his wrists around the leather straps on the legs of the spanking bench and waited.

"After we've taken care of this, I think we'll share the bed tonight."

Trevor cooed in delight. Durand noticed the large butt-plug the boy had inserted, always a sign that the boy was experiencing what passed for horniness in his virtually pure sexless state.

Hours later, as dawn rose on punishment day, young Trevor lay awake, satisfied and warm inside and out, gazing at the sleeping form of his master.

'How could I ever be jealous of those boys?' he thought to himself, stretching his lean frame across the mattress. Sometime during the night, master had removed all of his leather gear, allowing him a more restful sleep. He had a vague memory of waking, and being gently hushed back into slumber. He got up quietly, found a simple white speedo he'd tossed off the last time they were down here and slid it up his slim hips. He moved off slowly, creeping up the stairs. He would surprise his master with breakfast in bed this morning. Cooking was a skill he took particular pride in and master would be treated to steak and eggs this morning, and Trevor, if he was lucky, might get to eat the leftovers.

Chapter 39
Going to the Dogs

São Paolo, Brasil

As he sat at his computer this morning, wearing only a white t-shirt and stroking his ample four-and-one-half inch [11½ cm] boner, he fantasized about being there, about pitting himself against the other boys and the harsh challenges they faced every day. The morning sun was shining in through his window, highlighting his beautiful berry-brown skin. The boy swirled his fingers lazily through the sparse patch of pubic hair above his hard throbbing cock. It was the only hair on his body, except for the long loose black curls on his head. With his left hand still on his cock, he reached down with is right and slowly squeezed his balls, they were quite large for a boy of only twelve and he'd lately learned to enjoy playing with them while he masturbated.

"Ohhh, Dios mio," he moaned in a soft voice that was just starting to crack and break. He was getting so close now. That clear stuff was oozing out of the tip of his cock. He didn't know what it was or why he made so much of it, but he knew when it started to come out that his milky white boy-spunk wouldn't be far behind. "Soooo, good," he gasped as he pulled off his shirt and curled his toes.

Just as he was about to go over the edge, his computer went 'Ding!' and told him he had a new email. Still stroking with one hand he clicked his mouse with the other. What he read made him shoot his load right then and there, several hard spasms of immature boy-seed shot out of his throbbing penis and splattered across his chest. João then sat there, staring at the email he'd just received as his cock slowly went flaccid between his smooth golden-brown legs.

From: wbgrecruitment@xb1.com
To: hornyteen015@yahoobrasil.com

Dear João,

Thank you for your on-line application and the digital images you provided as requested. We believe you have the potential to be a Boy Gladiator and are considering you for a reserve position on the island. We will be sending a representative from Gladiator Island to interview you and your family in person.

Please understand that if you are selected you will be required to sign an indenture of servitude for a period up to your sixteenth birthday. Compensation to you and your family will be negotiated at a later date.

Thank you again for your application and congratulations. At present only one reserve position has been opened. Very few applicants have been selected for the personal interview phase and you are one of them. You should be proud. Keep watching the show and wait for our representative to contact you.

Sincerely,

Lara Tomlinson,
Executive Producer WBG'

João quickly hit the print function and cleaned off the results of his latest orgasm while the page slowly inched its way out of his old printer. He put on his soccer shorts, didn't bother with a shirt, grabbed the letter and ran downstairs to show it to his parents.

"Mama, papa, I made it!" he shouted excitedly, flapping the paper in front of their astounded faces. "I'm in! I'm going to be a Gladiator!"

Across the ocean it was evening in South Africa. Sam Nguni was reading a similar email while his naked slave boy Pieter slowly and expertly sucked his cock for him. He letter was somewhat different from young João's in that it made specific mention of the Island's new Junior Trainer program in which they hoped he would be the first participant. That wasn't exactly what he'd applied for. He'd wanted to be one of the Gladiators, but, as the letter described this brand new element that would be introduced into the show in the coming months, Sammy got more and more excited. It was a perfect fit. He was already a master, good at handling slave boys, well, one slave boy at any rate. And he could take Piet with him. It would also probably end any arguments he might get from his parents. He wouldn't actually be a boy gladiator at all. No instead he'd be bossing around all the naked white boys on the island. Mom and dad couldn't argue with that now could they?

"Don't stop sucking 'til I say so," Sam growled at Piet, smacking the back of the slightly younger boy's head. Pieter had stopped to momentarily adjust his newly installed and very permanent cock-cage. It was very small, even for his small genitals, and very uncomfortable.

"Sorry, Shaka. It's just this cage is really bugging me."

"It's supposed to. Mom and dad are tired of you walking around the house with your stupid little white penis all hard and stiff. I am too. So from now on, that won't be happening anymore. As far as we're all concerned, you don't even have a dick anymore, so you might as well stop complaining about it. The cage is welded shut. I couldn't take it off even if I wanted to, which I don't. Just be happy I didn't let them cut your balls off. Mother and father wanted to, you know… so you totally owe me! Now start sucking. I was almost ready to cum when you stopped. If you do that to me again I'll beat you silly."

"Sorry, Shaka."

"You should be. I swear you whites get more uppity all the time. Maybe a good spanking will teach you some manners."

"Yes, Shaka."

"And stop calling me that. I'm your master, that's what you should be calling me from now on."

Piet mumbled another apology as he took Samuel's dripping erection into his mouth once more. A few moments later he felt the older boy's hand gently running through his blonde hair.

"I'm sorry I talked to you like that… ooooh, that's good… but you have to remember who's… ooooo, god, ooooo, keep doing that, yeah… remember who's in charge of you around here. Oh, fuck, here it comes, Piet. Swallow it! Swallow all of it!"

Piet did exactly that then fell back onto his butt and sat there cross-legged with his poor caged cock trying in vain to get hard and little dribbles of Sammy's cum running from the corners of his mouth.

"Damn you're good at that, Piet," Shaka said as he printed off the email and stood up. "Let's go show this to mom and dad." He attached a leash to Pieter's collar and led his naked slaveboy out onto the veranda where his parents were enjoying the warm Johannesburg evening.

They had been angry when he first told them he'd applied to be a gladiator, but they figured their son would probably never get a response so they quickly let it pass. Shaka was now quite sure they'd approve of this new development, and it turned out, he was quite right.

Gladiator Island. Sunday Morning. Punishment Day

'They're gonna punish me anyway, so why get all worked up over it. I'm not gonna give them the satisfaction. Fuckers. I'll show them.'

And so with young teen bravado, he'd managed to fall asleep and stay that way for most of the night, awaking only when the insistent swelling within his cock-cage became unbearable. He was lying awake now, as the first light of dawn came through the barred and heavily screened window of the cell he shared with Alexei. The younger boy was still asleep, snoring softly. Chris rolled over onto his side, adjusted the metal cage that encased his teenaged cock and moved his hand slowly to his rear end. He pressed on the plug in his butt, then gently pulled on it.

"Mmm," the young teen moaned in satisfaction. 'Feels good to play with it like that,' he thought to himself as he slowly twisted the plug, rubbing it against his adolescent prostate. After just a few minutes of this he'd managed to turn the normal trickle of pre-cum that was always dribbling from his frustrated cock into a steady little stream.

"Hmmm… mmmm… oh, yeah," he whispered to himself in a throaty, almost manly voice. 'This is good. Wonder if I can make myself cum this way? Better not try it. I'm in enough trouble today as it is.'

Chris stood up and stretched his lean torso. Over the last several weeks the thirteen-year-old had learned to deal with the spikes on his cock-cage pressing relentlessly against his half-hard penis and the boy knew that if he busied himself with other thoughts, his morning erection would inevitably subside. After stretching he flexed his biceps, rather proud of how much they'd developed in just the short time he'd been a slave on Gladiator Island. Chris gazed down at his hairless body, even trimmer and leaner now than it had been when he'd first arrived.

'I really do look good,' he thought smugly as he examined his tight little six-pack and next flexed his smooth shapely calves. He tried to do several squat thrusts to stretch his young legs. That action of course promptly reminded him of the large latex plug currently nestled in his butt and he quickly stopped to avoid any further stimulation when he felt his cock slowly start to harden again. 'Walking, yeah walking always helps get me soft,' he mused as began his morning ritual of walking up and down the narrow aisle between his and Alexei's bed. The soft sound of his bare feet, still bandaged, against the cold smooth concrete floor was barely audible and young Alexei went right on sleeping.

'Wonder how late it is? They'll be waking us up soon. Then I'm gonna get punished… wonder what they're gonna do to me?'

Chris continued his walk until the morning klaxon sounded in the barracks and the guards unlocked the doors to the five identical cells.

"Everybody up and out," the morning sergeant barked. "Straighten your bunks. You all get enemas today, doctor's orders. Then shower and breakfast. Move your naked little butts!"

Still yawning, the ten boy gladiators quickly neatened their cells and presented themselves with their toes along the red line painted in front of their cell doors. Most all of them, except for Chris who'd been up for a while, and of course poor permanently bonerless Daniel, were obviously still struggling with morning erections in the snug confines of their chastity devices.

Chris immediately looked down the line to find Joshua, since he'd not seen him since yesterday's rather disastrous competition. To put it plainly, his younger brother looked like shit. The boy was pale and wobbly on his normally sturdy young legs and there was a distant glazed look in the eleven-year-old's expression that made Chris very worried.

'What did that guy do him last night?' the elder Andrews brother thought. He wanted to break out of line and go over to Josh, but he knew that was forbidden. The fact that they were brothers really meant increasingly little here. They were slaves. Boy Gladiators. They obeyed and they performed or they were punished. Simple. There was no quarter given for friendship or family or sympathy for a fellow competitor. Chris knew he'd be able to work his way over to Josh during their shower or maybe at breakfast, and so, for the moment, fearing for his brother more than for his own impending doom, he lowered his eyes to the floor and marched with the other boys into the showers.

The boys had not received a group enema since their earliest days on the island, but it would, at Doctor Trench's advice, become a once-weekly routine. All ten of them were soon on their hands and knees, their butt-plugs in their mouths for safe-keeping with ten thick black hoses sticking out of their ten cute boy-butts. The water started automatically, filling each boy with a predetermined amount suitable to his age and weight. All ten of the plucky young Gladiators were soon moaning and groaning and clawing their hands against the cold slick tiles.

"Keep those plugs in your mouths, boys," one of the guards was heard to say. "Get them nice and clean for us when we put them back in your little holes!"

All of the guards laughed. Had the matron been on duty this morning, she probably would not have allowed this latest humiliation, but she was not running the show this time and the boys were in for a rather rough few minutes as their tummies were filled to bloating.

"Hold it in!"

Soon the boys were growling and screeching and cramping. Two at a time they were allowed to run doubled over to the toilet to release the water from their bowels. As the designated punishment boys, Chris and Ian were made to wait until very last. Chris with his recently battered feet and Ian with his newly sprained ankle were a comical site shuffling and stumbling their way to the toilets.

All cleaned out, the boys bent over, pulled their butt-plugs out of their mouths and handed them to the guards to be reinserted into their rectums. Josh and Alexei had not managed to get theirs very clean, for which they would each be receiving demerits to start the new week. The boys were all allowed their Sunday luxury of a long warm shower. Chris managed it so that he occupied the showerhead next to Joshua. He noticed that his little brother was frantically scrubbing himself with the disinfectant soap, a behavior he'd never witnessed before. At eleven years old, Josh was still of the general opinion that showers and baths were a stupid waste of time, but obviously not today.

"You okay, Josh?" Chris asked as he went about soaking his head under the warm stream.

Josh was silent for a moment and would not look at him. Finally in a small voice he said, "I'm fine."

"You sure? You look kinda messed up… "

"I don't wanna talk about it, k?" the younger boy said as he bent over to wash his legs with his bare hands.

"Okay. But… well, I mean I think I know what happened to you last night… "

"You don't know shit, Chris, so shut up," Josh hissed, his voice high and breaking with sudden emotion. When he raised his eyes to look at his brother, Chris could plainly see the tears forming within.

"Look, Josh, it happened to me too. Hell, it's gonna happen to every one of us here sooner or later, and you can bet it's gonna happen to you and me again. We're slaves now. They own us…" he gestured down helplessly to his caged cock and to Josh's impregnable chastity belt, "… every fuckin' inch of us. That's just part of what we've gotta deal with, so get over it."

"I don't know if I can," the eleven-year-old said, losing some of his earlier bravado. "I mean, how can they just… how can someone just do that to a kid… It ain't fair! I mean I didn't do nothin' wrong… he hurt me so bad, Chris… it really hurt… I wanted him to stop so much, but I didn't beg him, Chris… I think he wanted me to beg him, but I didn't… I ain't ever gonna beg… not ever."

Chris gave his brother a gentle smile and risked a little reassuring touch on his shoulder. If they were caught embracing, even for a moment it would mean trouble for both of them. "Get mad about it then, Joshie. If that's what helps… get mad and stay mad and kick some serious ass this week."

"Yeah… yeah…," Josh said, sniffling and wiping his nose with the back of his hand. He stood up as tall as he could and started to get that familiar look of defiance in his brown eyes once more. "They're never gonna make me beg… and… and no one on this fuckin' island is ever gonna make me cry again… and I am gonna totally kick ass… even yours if I have too!"

There at last was Josh's famous impish devilish little smile. Chris laughed. "Yeah, well we'll see about that, squirt. You've made promises like that before, and my ass is still here waiting!"

The brothers splashed water on each other for a moment then turned back to their own business of washing up.

"Hey, Chris," Josh offered as the water shut off and the boys formed up dripping wet to march to breakfast.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks, dude. You're the best big brother a guy could have."

After breakfast, the boys were once again assembled on the floor in front of the punishment wheel. The five youngest boys sat cross-legged in a single row in front. Behind them the five older lads were on their knees. They were an attractive sight with their lean hairless bodies, strong, healthy and tanned by the tropical sun. The boys' hair had started to grow out again after the initial shearing they'd all received when they arrived. That had been mostly for discipline and to immediately severe the boys from their old lives and identities, but from now on the common practice would be to keep the boy gladiators' hair on the longish side. It gave them all a wilder, tougher look that played well with audiences.

The boys fell silent immediately when Jason Sanbourne entered, followed by the other trainers.

"Another excellent week, boys," he said, standing in front of them with his hands at his hips. "Overall we are very pleased with your efforts. In general we are happy with your obedience and attitude. Some of you are still a little too aware of the cameras. We will start giving demerits for that this week if it continues. Also it has come to our attention that several of you boys have started playing with your butt-plugs at night. Pleasuring yourselves, in any way, is strictly forbidden. I will not single anyone out, yet, but the guilty boys know who they are," Jason's eyes rested briefly on young Chris. "This is your only warning. Your butt-plugs, like your chastity devices are strictly off limits to you. Any boy who is caught again will face severe discipline. Do I make myself clear?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" the ten boys shouted out in unison.

"Remember, we are always watching you, so don't think you're smarter than your trainers."

"Sir, yes, sir!" the boys again replied.

"Good. Now let's get on with today's business," Jason smiled, giving the wheel a preemptory spin. "Before we punish failure, we must first reward success. Boy Zero-Eight and Boy Zero-One, please stand up and step forward."

Illya and Miles, the two boys who occupied the extreme ends of the size spectrum amongst the Gladiators both quickly got to their feet. Little Miles barely came up to tall, sturdy Illya's chest as they stood side by side facing their fellow gladiators. The small cart containing candy-bars and other special treats was wheeled in place in front of them and they were both allowed to take their pick, enough to last them until the next week's judgment if they were frugal with their snacking.

"Zero-Eight, this is your second week in a row finishing in the top two. Congratulations. As a special reward, you will be allowed two hours today in the trainers' media room, where you can watch television or play video games."

Illya's eyes lit up, the only show of emotion he ever seemed to put on, and he quickly resumed his spot on the floor.

"Boy Zero-One," Jason continued, "you finished first this week, proving that even our littlest gladiator is tough as nails. You also won the marathon, one of our most important events. For your special reward…" Jason paused for effect and the boys all fell still and quiet again, "we will be flying your parents and brother to Gladiator Island for a full week. They will be given VIP treatment while they are here and you will be allowed to stay with them in their luxury suite."

"Wow!" Miles squeaked, almost jumping up and down with excitement. As the youngest boy, being away from his mom and dad was proving harder for him than the others. Homesickness left him with a constant ache. This was a special reward indeed. "That's awesome, sir! When are they coming? Are they coming soon?"

Jason smiled down at him. "We will need to arrange for their trip first, Zero-One, but we will let you know in plenty of time. You will continue training and competing with your fellow gladiators during the week they are here, so don't get too excited!"

"No, sir. Sorry, sir."

"You may sit down now."

"Oh, right. Yes, sir."

A very triumphant little ten-year-old sat back down, his face glowing and his grin stretching from ear to ear. Josh, seated cross-legged next to him nudged him in the ribs.

"Way to go, Miles. That's awesome."

The other boys all had similar words of happiness mixed with a touch of jealousy for the smallest boy gladiator.

Jason allowed the boys these few moments of unruly congratulations, then blew his whistle calling them all to attention once more.

"And now we come to this week's losers. We have a tie for last place, and we have decided that both boys will spin the wheel and they will both share each other's punishments."

Chris and Ian looked at one another and frowned. That seemed rather unfair, and unexpected. One punishment alone would surely be bad enough.

"Zero-Seven and Zero-Three. Stand up and step forward. Hands behind yours heads. No talking from either of you from this moment forward unless you are ordered to speak."

Swallowing hard the two boys clambered to their feet and took their positions in front of the ominous punishment wheel. For the first time, Chris could see the names of some of the punishments, some were straightforward, others cryptic, others meant to be humorous in a tongue-in-cheek sort of way.

"Zero-Seven, as the older boy, you will spin first. Good luck!"

Chris stepped forward, trying to keep himself from trembling in front of all the other boys and trainers. He grabbed the wheel as close to the top as he could reach and gave it a powerful spin using all of his thirteen-year-old muscle. Round and round it went, finally coming to rest on a red section with a silhouetted shape of a dog in the center.

Jason's smile instantly turned evil as he pulled the card from the wheel and handed it to Chris. "Turn and face your fellow gladiators and read them your punishment."

Chris did as ordered and with shaking hands read the horrifying words on printed on the card. "The Kennel. You will spend the next twenty-four hours in the… kennel… with the island's… ten vicious guard dogs. You will be one of their pack for the entire day."

Chris nearly lost control of his bladder as he read the card. Ever since he was small boy he'd had a fear of dogs, and the ones here on the island were huge and black with great muzzles filled with sharp angry teeth. Even the smallest of the creatures outweighed the one-hundred-and-five pound [48 kg] boy by at least twenty pounds [9 kg].

'Oh, man… oh, man, this can't be happening… oh my god… oh my fuckin' god…'

"You and Zero-Three will share this punishment and it will start immediately after Zero-Three spins the wheel."

Ian timidly approached the wheel, looked up at its wide array of inventive and terrifying punishments and gave it the best spin he could. It made one-and-a-half rotations and came to rest on a picture of a see-saw. It was a last minute addition to the wheel, a punishment specifically designed to be shared by two unfortunate boys. Again Jason pulled the card and handed it over to the soon-to-be-punished boy. "Turn and read your punishment aloud."

"The See-Saw. You and another boy will sit on a special see-saw for twelve hours. You must keep it moving at all times."

That, on the surface, didn't sound all that bad, but both boys knew well enough that some devious and humiliatingly painful twist surely awaited them once their second punishment began.

"You two will ride the see-saw once your time among our friendly guard dogs has expired. Anthony, would you help me take these two away and prepare them for the pups."

"With pleasure," Anthony replied. He was still pissed at Ian for finishing last, and all too pleased to bring further torment to the cute, sexy little eleven-year-old under his control. He grabbed the boy by his collar and dragged him out of the barracks. Anthony had a particular taste for sadism and brutality and was surely the harshest of the male trainers. Little Ian lived in fear of him more often than not. As horrible as twenty-four hours with the dogs might be, for the young Aussie it at least meant a full day away from his cruel and wicked trainer.

Jason followed behind the huge black man and the small white boy at a quick pace, his right hand firmly clasped around Chris' upper arm, pulling the suddenly terrified young teen along with him.

"Sir, you don't understand, sir," Chris stammered and babbled, "I'm really afraid of dogs, sir. Ever since I got chased by one when I was little… I mean, I'm really scared, sir. Maybe I can spin the wheel again?"

Jason reached down and smacked the boy hard on the butt. "I told you no more talking, Zero-Seven. This is your punishment. If you keep whining like a little baby, I'll put you in diapers for rest of the month, would you like that?"

"Sir, no, sir!" Chris shouted, doing his best to regain his courage. The idea of being forced to wear a diaper was enough to make even twenty-four hours with the dogs seem a bit less horrible.

Another hard smack on his back side. "I said no talking, boy! Are you trying to make me mad today or what?"

Chris shook his head and lowered his eyes to the ground, always his sign to Jason that was ready to give up and behave himself again.

Once outside the chain-link fence of the kennel, the two boys were quickly prepared for the first part of their double punishment. Their iron gladiator collars were removed and replaced with thick leather ones, adorned with metal spikes, to match those worn by the dogs themselves. Each collar had an engraved ID tag hanging from the front ring, 'Chris' and 'Ian' they read. One of the rare occasions when the boys' first names were used in an official capacity.

Chris and Ian then had their hands placed into leather puppy-mitts, to ensure they had no effective use of their hands during the duration of their punishment. Chris stood stock still as his cock-cage was completely removed. Even the metal ring at the base of his genitals, which held the cage in place, was taken off. This took some effort as the boy's cock instantly became hard once it was freed of his constricting cage. Christopher's genitals had also grown somewhat larger due to the daily dose of drugs all the boys were being given, so it as a few painful moments of pinching and squeezing before the thirteen-year-old's smooth genitals were freed and completely unadorned for the first time in weeks. It was a rather odd feeling. Chris just stood there, his erect six-inch [15 cm] penis throbbing with need, driven to full hardness by his constant state of sexual frustration and the added effect of the sheer terror of the dogs awaiting him on the other side of the fence.

Ian was similarly freed of his chastity belt and the eleven-year-old too immediately sprang a stiff if rather small and still very boyish boner.

"No touching yourselves," Jason ordered, "or rubbing your cocks up against any of the other dogs or each other. Now bend over, both of you."

The boys complied and moaned plaintively as their butt-plugs were unceremoniously yanked from their rectums. If either boy thought this was meant to be a kindness, Anthony's next words quickly brought them back to the reality of being slaves on Gladiator Island.

"All of our dogs are males," he said with a rather smug look on his face. "You two boys get to be their bitches. They've all been specially trained to fuck little boys. Can't wait to see Lucifer over there," he pointed through the fence to the largest, blackest, most powerful looking dog either boy had ever seen, "ram his big cock up one of your little butts. Dog that size can fuck for hours!"

The two trainers shared a laugh just as young Danny came up running. The red-headed twelve-year-old was lugging a metal bucket in each arm. He quickly came to a stop and set his burdens down at the feet of the trainers. Aside from his collar, the boy was completely naked. His trainer, Calvin Mayfair, had decided that since for all practical purposes Danny was now castrated, there was really no need for a chastity belt. The effects of the boy's daily regimen of testroxil pills were now clearly visible. The boy's testicles had been shrunken to the size of little marbles and had retreated back into his body and his scrotal sack had tightened accordingly. His penis, rather small to begin with, was now just a little acorn-headed nubbin barely an inch [2½ cm] long. It would, in weeks to come, get even smaller until nothing but the head itself would be visible. Curiously, the boy's lack of genitals only seemed to further accentuate his trim athletic musculature.

Jason nodded his silent approval at the results of the testroxil and Calvin's wise decision to let the boy run about with a chastity belt. There really was no need for it in young Danny's case. Chris and Ian stared at their fellow gladiator in that combination of sympathy and cruel self-absorption (better him than me) that only young boys can manage.

"Run along now, Zero-Five," Jason said, "unless you'd like to help us."

"Uh, sure," Danny replied.

"Spread the honey on them first, then do the peanut butter," Jason explained, for that was the contents of the two buckets Danny had carried up from the island's kitchen. "The honey goes everywhere but on their cocks and balls. That's what the peanut butter is for."

Danny smiled, rather liking the fun he was about to have. Chris and Ian shifted nervously from foot to foot and eyed their trainers dubiously.

"You see, boys," Jason said, "these are guard dogs, and the thing they've been trained to protect most… is you. They're trained to keep strangers or unauthorized personnel from getting into the barracks or getting too close to you during training or competitions. They are very disciplined creatures, which means if we just threw you two in there, they'd probably just ignore you. But dogs are crazy about honey and they go wild over peanut butter…once they get a taste of you, they won't be quite so shy. "

Young Danny's eyes danced and he smiled rather wickedly. He fondly remembered his own dog back home and how much the little beagle loved chunky peanut butter. "Hah! I'm sure glad I don't have a dick anymore," he giggled. "Those dogs are gonna looove you guys!"

Under strict orders not to talk, Chris and Ian just glared at Danny, a silent promise that they'd pay him back for that sometime soon. Danny went about his work, using a soft brush to apply the honey to his fellow gladiators' bodies. When the two hairless boys were a sweet and sticky mess from head to toe, he used his bare hands to scoop out a large amount of peanut butter and slathered it all over Chris' erect cock and dangling low-hanging balls. Chris moaned slightly when Danny's hands touched him down there.

"Don't you dare cum, Zero-Seven," Jason commanded, but Danny had already finished and was now applying an appropriately smaller amount of peanut butter to Ian's smaller, but equally turgid penis.

"Good job, Zero-Five. Take the rest back to the barracks. You boys can all have a snack."

Danny smiled, picked up the buckets, stuck his tongue out at the two unfortunate lads now covered in gooey dog-enticing food-stuffs and ran back to the barracks.

"Down on all fours," Anthony shouted. Chris and Ian quickly obeyed. "You'll stay that way until your time is up."

Jason unlocked the gate to the kennel.

"Crawl in there," Anthony said, kicking both boys in the butt to get them moving.

Side by side the two naked boys crawled into the kennel and heard the sound of heavy gate being closed and locked behind them. Instantly the dogs started barking and yammering and slowly moved forward to investigate the two newcomers. Chris actually peed himself on the spot, the scent of his adolescent urine only adding to the sensual stimulus their sudden presence was providing the ten powerful male canines. Almost immediately the boys were surrounded by the dogs and it was only a few moments later before several of the bolder members of the pack began licking the boys' peanut butter covered balls.

"Oh, shit!" Chris cried out as he trembled in panic.

"It's… it's okay, mate," Ian said to him. He had no particular phobia of dogs and was more concerned about one of the creatures accidentally taking a bite of his hard and presently very delicious penis. "They just want the peanut butter… ooooh," the boy squealed as a canine tongue lapped its way over and around his erect not quite four-inch [10 cm] boyhood. Soon all of the dogs were licking and nudging the two honey-coated boys, forcing them to finally roll over onto their backs so that the entire pack could get their fill. Their hot moist tongues were ticklish but relentless. In spite of his fear, Chris was soon giggling as the dogs licked every inch of his body clean, including his ticklish arm-pits and his adorable teen-boy feet. Ian was in a similar state next to him. One of the larger dogs was still working rather fiercely at the young eleven-year-old's cock, determined to get every last bit of peanut butter for himself. "Oh, wow! … ooooh, man, oooooo, yeeeeaah!" Ian's body went into sharp spasms as he lay on the ground having an orgasm. He shot his meager little amount of clear fluid onto his chest and tried desperately to scoot away but the dog followed him still licking and lapping at the boy's genitals.

After several more minutes, the boys had been well cleaned by the pack and the dogs seemed, for the moment, to lose interest in them. Chris and Ian stayed close together on their hands and knees, watching nervously as the dogs moved about in the kennel, not daring to move.

"I think if we maybe keep to ourselves, they'll leave us alone," Ian offered hopefully.

"Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," Chris stammered. But then he noticed one of the bigger dogs, the one Anthony had called Lucifer, slowly moving back toward them. He also noticed, for the first time in his life, the huge, long hard erect canine cock that was hanging between the dog's hind legs. Instinctively Chris crawled backwards, an unintentional sign of submission the sent Lucifer bolting forward. Before Chris could do anything but scream, the powerful dog was on him, literally. Thirteen-year-old Chris weighed one-hundred and five pounds [48 kg] at the moment. The four year old Lucifer weighed close to one-hundred and thirty [59 kg] and was all muscle and sinew. Chris felt the dog's huge heavy front paws on his back, and then the full weight of the great animal and its hot panting breath. Then he felt something else. Something big and impossibly hard pressing against his already loose and well-violated boyhole. The boy tried to clench up and resist, but there was no way the giant canine was going to be denied.

'Oh no! Oh noooo! I'm gonna get fucked by a dog!'

Close by, another of the eager canines, a younger but equally aggressive dog named Mephistopheles was clumsily, but effectively mounting eleven-year-old Ian, driving his large dog-cock into the pre-teen boy's tight little hole. Ian, who barely weighed eighty-five pounds [38 kg] had even less chance of fighting off the dog's wild rabid rutting than Chris did. Outside the razor-wire fence that surrounded the kennel, the camera team was getting some excellent live footage of the two unfortunate boys being savagely raped by the sexually ravenous dogs. The guards on duty kept a close eye on things, ready to intervene should the situation start to really get out of hand.

"Just settle in, guys," one of the guards said to the camera team. "Lucifer and Mephistopheles will be going at it for a while. Lucifer especially. Sometimes it's more than an hour before his knot goes down and he can pull out of the bitch… or the boy… same thing in this case, right?"

All the men had a good laugh. The boys' cries of shame and agony were probably heard all over the island as Lucifer and Mephistopheles frantically rammed their canine cocks into Chris' and Ian's butts, claiming their newfound bitches as their own.

For the rest of the boys, Sunday was proving to be their normal day of rest. Miles was allowed to make a special call home to tell his family about the good news of their upcoming visit. Danny and Josh went out to shoot hoops on the basketball court outside the barracks. The Russian boys, Alexei and Illya, sat down for their weekly game of chess. Teenagers Philippe and David basically planned to do absolutely nothing all day and Gabriel once again joined his idol Roger Bramley in the training center for another round of exercises and intense weight training. This was fast becoming a part of their established weekly routine, and young Gabe's firm sturdy muscles showed the benefit of Roger's experience as a professional athlete.

Among the boys and their trainers, Gabriel and Roger shared perhaps the most congenial relationship. Gabriel made no secret of his hero-worship of the former Manchester United star, and Roger for his part was rather pleased to have such a strong, athletic, and eager protégé under his charge. Alone amongst the male trainers, Roger generally preferred men and professed no particular sexual attraction to boys, but he did find Gabriel exceptionally cute and often found himself aroused when watching the naked twelve-year-old exert himself in training and in competition. He certainly entertained thoughts of making the boy suck his cock or using him for other sexual pleasures, but so far had resisted that temptation. Of course Roger was strict when necessary and cruel enough to his young gladiator when circumstances, or the cameras, demanded it, but his primary focus was to ensure that Gabriel was always in top physical and mental condition for whatever challenge might lie ahead.

"Give me ten more reps," Roger said as Gabriel worked his biceps with the free-weights, "then we'll chain you to the treadmill for a while."

"Yes, sir," Gabriel replied, already winded and sweaty but very much into his workout.

Roger smiled, pleased with the boy's endurance. He scanned the twelve-year-old's lean hairless body for a moment. Young Gabriel was all muscle, trim and fit. His proportions were still boyish, but he was beginning to develop into adolescence, and what a magnificent specimen of teenaged boyhood he would be. Roger allowed his eyes to pause at the boy's chastity-cage. Gabriel's cock, large for a boy of twelve, was currently half-hard within its tight unforgiving cage, a natural result of the young boy's exertions.

"How're you doing with that cage around your dick?" Roger asked him. "Finally getting used to it?"

"Sorta, sir. I mean it really sucks, not bein' able to get hard or wank-off when I want to, but I try not to think about it. I mean I signed the contract, right? Guess havin' my dick locked up all the time is just part of the deal if I want all that money."

Roger smiled as he helped the twelve-year-old gladiator onto the treadmill. "Arms above your head," he ordered in his typically firm authoritative manner. Gabriel immediately obeyed and was soon standing with his arms stretched above him attached with leather cuffs to chains dangling from the ceiling. Roger always made him run the treadmill like this, a technique meant to help improve the boy's balance and coordination. As Roger programmed the machine for a thirty-minute inclined run, he continued making small-talk with his boy gladiator. "You're leaking a lot of pre-cum lately. I'm thinking I might start having you milked once a week from now on. Draining your balls a bit more often will be good for you."

For his part, young Gabriel was well aware of the seemingly endless stream of sticky clear fluid that seemed to be constantly dribbling from his imprisoned penis.

"And I figure it is time I put a larger plug up your butt too. You're going to turn thirteen soon. We're going to have to keep a closer eye on that cock of yours. I've got them making a new chastity cage for you, an even tighter one with more and much sharper spikes."

Gabriel's shivered at the thought of extra milkings, an even nastier cock-cage, and an even larger butt-plug, but figured his trainer always knew best.

"Your time starts now," Roger said as he switched on the treadmill. "Thirty minutes."

The treadmill raised up to a ten-degree angle and started moving at a brisk speed, forcing Gabriel to move his sturdy legs at a good running pace. Roger left the boy and turned his own attentions to the rowing machine. Gabriel's small tight naked body was having a particularly arousing effect on him today, and he figured some good hard exercise would help disburse some his of his own pent-up sexual energy.

'Damn. Maybe I should just fuck his hot little ass and get it over with,' he thought as his hungry eyes continued to feast on the naked boy's smooth and flawless flesh. After about ten minutes, Roger just couldn't stand it any longer. He was tired of jerking off back in his own suite and Gabriel was just too adorable and sexy. He stood up and marched over to the treadmill.

Gabriel was panting hard against the steadily increasingly incline and speed, but handling this latest challenge very well. He smiled when Roger approached then looked on in surprise when his trainer turned off the treadmill and released his wrists from the leather straps. He felt Roger's firm hands on his bare shoulders.

"I've got to have that tight little ass of yours, boy," Roger said.

Gabriel trembled slightly but said nothing.

"But not here. Come with me." Attaching a chain to Gabriel's collar, Roger hurriedly pulled the boy along out of the training center and toward the administration building which housed all of the trainers' suites.

"I thought… I thought we weren't ever supposed to go here," Gabriel said, remembering their orders on their very first day about staying away from the main building.

"I can take you anywhere on this island I want to," Roger said, swatting the boy on the rump. Strictly speaking that statement was not entirely true. Roger was breaking established island protocol, but Gabriel did not know that and Roger wasn't about to go into all the details.

Moments later they were in Roger's suite. It was certainly more luxurious than the prison-like barracks Gabriel now called home, but it was rather Spartan, with few furnishings and mostly bare walls. The naked boy shivered a bit, already unaccustomed to air-conditioning after weeks in the sweltering barracks. Roger removed the chain from Gabriel's collar.

"You don't need that here. You don't need this here, either," he said, taking the key from his belt and removing the boy's cock-cage. Gabriel's cock sprang to its surprisingly thick five-inch [12½ cm] hardness almost instantly. "Don't even think about touching it. Stay right there and don't move. Hands behind your head."

"Yes, sir," Gabriel stammered, his young heart pounding. He knew what was about to happen. It would be the first time Roger had done anything sexual with him. He swallowed hard, frightened that it would hurt and that he might end up crying in front of his hero.

Roger returned with a small cock-and-ball harness and quickly strapped it in place around the twelve-year-old English boy's genitals. "Seems to fit you. This will keep you from cumming. I want you hard and begging for it the whole time," Roger practically growled, increasingly overcome by his own lust.

"Well, that's definitely doing the trick, sir!" Gabriel replied.

Roger slapped the boy's face. "Cheeky little bastard. Get your ass into the bedroom, now!"

Afraid, but conditioned to obey his trainer without question, Gabriel scurried into the bedroom and resumed his standing position with his hands clasped behind his head. Roger stripped off his own clothes before joining the boy. It was the first time Gabriel had seen Roger Bramley naked, and the size of the man's hard cock was enough to make the boy gasp. He was sure there was no way anything so big could fit into his little butt.

Roger now stood directly in front of him. Gabriel looked up into his hero's eyes with a pleading expression.

"Don't give me that look, boy. I'm going to fuck you hard. You might even enjoy it. That's why I took the cage of your dick. Bend over and grab your ankles."

Gabriel obeyed. Roger started by giving the young gladiator a solid spanking. Ten hard swift swats to the boy's bare butt. Each one elicited a yelp of protest from the always feisty lad. Next, Gabriel felt Roger's hand back there tugging on the end of his butt-plug. After some initial resistance and a loud groan of protest from the boy, the latex plug slipped out easily enough. Roger handed it to Gabriel. "Lick it clean."

Having already been forced to do so earlier that morning, Gabriel put the plug into his mouth and hesitantly lapped off his own boyish ass-juices. He presented a spit-shined plug to Roger for the man's inspection.

"Good boy," Roger tussled the lad's hair. "Just toss it on the bed. Now, get down on your knees and suck my cock. The wetter you get it, the easier it'll be for you when I plow you with it."

Perhaps of all the island's boys, Gabriel had thus far had the fewest experiences of being forced into sexual acts with the trainers, the guests or the other gladiators. His cock-sucking skills were amateur at best, but Roger didn't seem to mind as the young boy closed his soft pink lips around the man's hard cock.

"Use your tongue, boy."

"Mmmpthh."

Gabe could only manage to take three of Roger's eight monstrous inches [7½ of 20 cm], but he was mindful of his trainer's warning and did his best to get Roger's cock as wet and slick with spit as he could. Roger was moaning softly and presently had both of his hands around Gabriel's head, keeping the boy in position.

Gabriel's own cock was still hard, standing out firmly from his hairless groin and throbbing with each rapid beat of his heart. The boy was aware of his erection and rather ashamed of it.

"Why is your little dick still hard? I thought you said you liked girls," Roger teased him, running his bare toes under the boy's dangling ball-sack. "Maybe you're a little faggot after all. Maybe you like sucking my big cock, huh?"

Gabriel shook his head 'no', but his trainer's logic did seem to be inescapable. Here he was sucking Roger Bramley's huge cock and his own penis was hopelessly desperately hard. It was all so confusing. Gabe's eyes watered.

"That's good enough for now. Get on the bed, on your hands and knees. I'm gonna fuck you like a little doggie."

The boy had barely gotten into position when he felt his trainer's hands close around his slim hips. He felt Roger's hardness pressing at his boy-hole. He sniffled softly and closed his eyes. Roger wasted no time, forcing his eight-inch [20 cm] cock into the twelve-year-old's butt with a single powerful thrust. Gabriel squealed and tried to thrash around, but Roger only tightened his vice-like grip on the boy's hips.

"Keep still! Just shut up and take it, boy," Roger hissed. "I'm so fuckin' horny it won't be long. Just take it, just… uuunggh, god, you're still so tight!… just take it…"

Gabriel clenched his fists into the sheets and closed his eyes. He was trying his level best not to make a sound, but Roger's thrusts were so forceful and so deep that the boy poor couldn't help but cry out and shriek as the man's cock assaulted his increasingly active twelve-year-old prostate. Soon, the pain began to subside as his body adapted to accept the invasion of his most private self. Gabriel's shrieks and cries gradually turned into high-pitched moans and whimpers. On his hands and knees, the boy was unable to touch his own dick or grind it against the mattress, and so his penis remained hard and dripping pre-cum and eager for an orgasm that just would not come.

Roger however, had no such problems, and after managing to make this moment last for a good fifteen minutes finally growled and gasped and with a final violent thrust shot his seed into the slave boy's bowels. Gabriel was now, by far, the youngest male Roger had ever fucked, and he decided that he very much liked the soft tight warmth of a young boy's hole.

"Wow," he breathed long and hard as his cock slowly softened inside Gabriel's butt. "You are one hell of a good fuck, Gabriel. We'll be doing this a lot more from now on."

Gabriel was still whimpering quietly, his twelve-year-old penis still rigid and aching for relief.

"Stay on your hands and knees. Don't move. Don't touch your dick," Roger ordered as he pulled out all the way and left the bed to get cleaned up. Staring back at Gabriel, he could see several trails of blood, semen, and brown ass-juices running down the insides of the boy's smooth thighs. The kid's balls were dangling plump and low in their silken hairless sack. Roger smiled. The boy was desperately horny, but no relief would be coming today. Roger returned moments later with a warm rag and quickly wiped the boy's butt and legs. Then, without warning, he forced the butt-plug back into Gabriel's rectum.

"Yeeowch!" the boy screamed, but it was mostly melodramatic and they both knew it.

"Off the bed, slave boy. Stand at attention."

Wordlessly, young Gabriel complied. His cock had finally showed signs of softening. Roger removed the cock-and-ball harness and applied the wet rag which had now gone cold. The boy's cock shrunk even further, soft enough now to once again be imprisoned within its little cage. Roger made quick work of this procedure, ensuring the boy did not have another opportunity to achieve an erection. The cage in place and secured with its brass padlock, Roger patted the boy on the head and once again attached the chain to his collar.

"Thanks for a great fuck, kid. I won't forget that one for a long time… and neither will you. Let's get you back to the barracks. You can take it easy the rest of the day. I'd say you've earned it."

Chapter 40
The Fight

To the boy's shame, and the special attention of the cameramen, Christopher's cock, once freed from its confining metal prison, had hardened to its full impressive six-inch [15 cm] erection and had stayed that way ever since. It now throbbed firm and provocatively between the boy's hairless legs. His balls hung low and swung back and forth as the enormous dog thrust in and out with unbelievable power. As bad as it hurt having the dog inside him, as humiliating and terrible as all this was, the boy's cock just would not soften. And to make matters worse, it was leaking pre-cum even more than usual.

"Little bitch-boy must like it," one of guards jested to the cameramen, who quickly zoomed in to film the poor naked young teen's ordeal, and the undeniable evidence of the boy's arousal. Chris felt like he was being ripped in half from the inside out.

"Please, sir, you gotta help me!"

"Keep still, boy," the guard barked, grabbing hold of the thirteen-year-old's collar to steady him. "Lucifer can't pull out of you yet. It takes a long time for his knot to go down after he seeds his bitch. Nature's way, kid. There more you move, the more it's going to hurt."

Chris winced at the term bitch, but at the moment that is exactly what he was. A bitch. A bitch with a throbbing boner. He looked up with confused tear-filled eyes at the guard standing over him. The enormous dog had cum several minutes ago, shooting an extraordinary amount of hot doggy spunk into the shrieking thirteen-year-old's bowels. The more Chris had cried and moaned, the more wild and rabid the four-year-old dog went at it. The dog's cock wasn't that much thicker than any of the other one's Chris had had shoved up his butt recently, but it was considerably longer and considerably harder. Chris was leaking profusely, and even some cloudy boy-jizz had managed to ooze out of him, or be fucked out of him to be more precise. In spite of his fear and humiliation, the horny sexually frustrated thirteen-year-old was betrayed, yet again, by his own body. He could look between his legs to see his boy-juice oozing out in big globs with each frantic thrust of the equally horny beast.

"They think I like this… they think I'm a perv or something," he muttered to himself. "They're the ones who are freakin' perverts… ah, god, aaaghhh, it hurts soooo much! Please, pleeeease, you gotta help me!"

In his ignorance of canine anatomy, Chris mistakenly assumed that when the dog was finally done with him and shot his doggy load, he'd go off and do dog stuff. He had no idea of the ordeal that awaited him as Lucifer's doggy-dong remained in his butt long after any feeling of pleasure had subsided. The boy's cock remained rock hard, even as the blinding stabbing pain in his rectum began to overwhelm his over-stimulated senses.

"Get him out of me, please!" the boy begged again, his voice high and weak. He was making the false assumption that the guards were simply being cruel. He had no real concept that, in this case, there was absolutely nothing anyone could do to help him. Nothing but wait until nature took its course. He tried desperately to crawl away, only to discover that he was dragging Lucifer along with him. Lucifer clearly did not like this and whined and yelped and nipped at the boy's back with his sharp canine teeth. Chris had determined that he would not cry, but this was getting to be too much. The pain in his already used and abused butt was searing. The dog then pawed again at his naked back, scratching him deep in several places. To his further shame, the boy started to pee, unable to control his bladder, wetting the ground beneath him. The only consolation was that peeing finally forced his cock to soften. He felt his hot tears streaming down his cheeks. The cameras, of course, were there to catch the entire agonizing punishment.

The network had wisely decided to broadcast today's punishment session on a pay-per-view basis only. Viewers all around the world could appreciate the erotic subtext and great action of ten cute young nude boys at the peak of athleticism engaging all varieties of strenuous competitions and tests of strength, but beast-on-boy sex was definitely a concept not everyone was ready for. Still, the ratings for this latest spectacle were quite extraordinary. Pirated video of Chris and Ian being raped by these dogs would be floating around the internet for the next thirty years.

Bowie, Maryland. USA.

The boys' mother came into the room, just as the cameras were capturing the moment that Chris began pissing himself. Lindsay's eyes widened in horror and she quickly turned away. She couldn't bear to see her beautiful first-born son so degraded, so humiliated, suffering so badly for the enjoyment of others. No amount of money could possibly be worth this. Could it?

"I can't believe you're actually watching this, Matt!" she shouted at the boys' father. "That's Chris. That's our son! Look… look what they're doing to him… heaven knows what's happening to little Joshie right now… those are our babies, Matt!…We've… we've got to get them off that horrible island."

Matthew took hold of Lindsay's wrist and gently, but firmly, pulled her down onto the couch. "You know we can't do that. They belong to XB-1 until they're sixteen. They signed up voluntarily and we counter-signed for them. Let's just enjoy the ride, and the money."

"How can you enjoy that?" Lindsay asked, pointing to the screen, which currently showed a close-up of Christopher's lightly freckled, well-tanned and currently tear-streaked face.

"That is a slave you are watching, Lin. Not your son. You've got to cut that cord, sweetie. He's thirteen now."

"He is my son… oh, my god, you've got an erection!"

"So does Chris," Matthew observed.

Lindsay ignored that comment. "Is this… is seeing our son tortured turning you on?! You're sick!"

"No. I'm honest with myself. This is terrible, Lindsay. It is terrible that this is happening to our son. I do feel sorry for him. But it's also incredibly hot. If this wasn't him, it would be some other boy and you and I would not be having this conversation at all. You know it. I know it. Now just watch… just watch. That's not Chris. That's a boy gladiator… a slave… just watch…"

And in spite of herself, Lindsay Andrews did watch. After just a few moments she felt herself becoming aroused. Matthew's observation was right. Her son's penis was hard. Very hard. And very big. It looked so out of place attached to the boy's slim hairless hundred-pound [45 kg] frame. And that big huge dog was so powerful, the boy so small and weak by comparison. She imagined herself there, in the place of the boy. Her husband Matt in the place of the dog. "Well, that is kind of a turn on, isn't it?" She whispered in a throaty voice. "Chris has a nice big dick, just like his father."

"I told you so," Matt said as he placed her hand on his erection.

They watched the screen for another twenty minutes. Chris was now enduring the agony of having Lucifer stuck inside him.

"Let's do it, Matt. Let's do it right here," Lindsay said, hotter and wetter than she had been in a long long time. "Let's do it right now, while our little boy is being fucked by a dog! Oh, fuck. Do me, Matt! Do me!"

Matthew gave her a knowing grin and turned away from the television. He was recording everything anyway, so he could always go back and watch it again. He made love to his wife roughly, goaded on by the sounds of Christopher screaming and sobbing in the background.

Gladiator Island

The ten-year-old was humming happily to himself, his right hand absent-mindedly rubbing against the metal plate of his chastity belt. Miles had discovered weeks ago that if he pressed on it just right, he could manage to give himself some naughty pleasure. His little pickle was presently straining to get hard, even as the belt forced it down between his legs. He had rather grown to like that feeling of tightness down there and really couldn't understand what all the fuss was about with the older boys always whining at having their cocks locked up.

As the happy little boy came around to the basketball court where Josh and Danny were playing, he immediately noticed that something was up.

The boys weren't playing. In fact they were arguing, very loudly.

"That was a foul!!" Josh shouted at Danny.

"No it wasn't."

"Yes, it was!"

"No, it was not," Danny yelled back.

"You pushed me. You knocked me down!"

"You shoulda got outta my way then, ay!"

Josh was fuming. He clutched the ball with both hands, so tightly Miles thought he might just pop it.

"What are you gonna start crying now?" Danny taunted him. "The way you were crying when they brought you in last night. Yeah, that's right, I heard you. We all heard you. Pussy."

"You take that back," eleven-year-old Josh hissed with surprising venom in his voice. "You don't know what that guy did to me last night, so just shut the fuck up!"

"What? Did he fuck you up the butt? Hah! I bet you loved that. Just like your brother does! Yeah, we all know it, Josh. Your brother loves having dicks up his butt! I bet you do too!"

That was it. Josh threw the ball at Danny. Hard. Right at the twelve-year-old's head. Danny stumbled and wheeled backward, a nasty red mark forming instantly on the left side of his face. It would be an ugly bruise by nightfall. Josh rushed his best friend and knocked him down. The two naked boys grappled one another and began rolling around on the concrete basketball court.

Miles, as he would have done in the schoolyard back home, quickly shouted, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" loud enough for everyone in and around the barracks to hear.

The alarm sounded immediately and the guards came running with their shock-sticks already drawn. By the time they reached the basketball court, Danny was curled into a tight little ball, protecting his face with his hands while Josh straddled him and pounded him mercilessly with his clenched eleven-year-old fists. It only took one touch of the shock sticks to end the fight and leave Josh shrieking. He yelped and cried out and fell over. The guards continued to shock him, ordering him to lie flat on his stomach and not move. The mild electrocution caused the boy to pee himself. It dribbled slowly out of the small hole at the base of his chastity belt.

"Don't move, slave!" one of the guards shouted, once Josh had complied and was lying prone on his tummy. The guard put his booted foot right down between the boy's shoulder blades, pinning him to the concrete. Josh sniffled a bit, but he didn't cry. He lay still, as ordered, and he felt the guards putting shackles around his ankles. He did not protest when they yanked his head back by his hair and placed a muzzle over his mouth. It covered the entire lower portion of his face.

"Hands behind your back!"

Josh immediately obeyed and his wrists were shackled behind him. Another pair went around his upper arms. They were very tight and dug into his flesh and had a chain connecting them to each other.

"On your knees, slave!"

Josh struggled to do as ordered, but with his arms bound so tightly behind him he had no leverage. One of the other guards stepped in and helped him get into position.

"How's the other one?" the guard in charge on the scene asked, indicating Daniel.

"Seems okay, sir," the other guard replied, pulling the battered and bewildered redheaded boy to his feet. "Got some nasty bruises and a pair of skinned knees and elbows."

"Shackle him and take him to medical and get him patched up."

"Yes, sir."

Danny was shackled and marched away between two guards to have his rather modest injuries examined. A short chain was attached to Joshua's collar and he was pulled to his feet. Four guards surrounded him all with their shock sticks charged and crackling. The boy was dragged back to the barracks and marched into his cell. His arms and legs remained in shackles, and the chain around his neck was locked to a restraining ring mounted on the wall beneath the barred and screened window. They left him sitting alone on the floor, unable to move more than a few inches due to the short length of his neck chain. They slammed the door and locked him in. Through it all, Josh had not uttered a single cry of protest behind the muzzle. He had not shed a tear. His eyes were distant. The boy was in a mild state of shock. He simply stared at the steel door. He'd just beaten up his best friend. It had all happened so fast. No time to think. No time to judge the consequences in his eleven-year-old mind. Consequences which he would soon learn were going to be quite severe.

With Josh locked up in solitary confinement, Danny in medical resting his bruised body as well as his bruised pride, Chris and Ian still having fun with the dogs, and the rest of the boys temporarily on lockdown in the shower room of the barracks, the trainers hastily met in the barracks day room to get control of the situation and determine the best course of action. Everyone was rather shocked at this sudden outburst, especially from young Joshua, who, though a constant thorn in everyone's side, was, at heart, a sweet little kid.

"I think that boy's gone loopy, Jason," Anthony said. "If he was going beat the crap out of another boy, he should have at least had the good sense to do it in front of the cameras."

Everyone laughed, but Anthony's point was well taken. Under the right circumstances Josh's outburst could have at least generated some quick ratings and some buzz on the internet. As it stood, the moment had just gone to waste, leaving one boy in medical and Josh in solitary until they could decide what to do with him.

Alexander Wright spoke up next and brought his usual sense of logic and fair play into the conversation. "Well, we really can't expect a naked eleven-year-old slave to think like a producer. Punish him for what he did. Make it memorable to be sure, but don't punish him for being a little firebrand. Are we really surprised he became violent? He is becoming exactly what we've been training him to be."

These statements brought all trainers into the debate about what to do with a boy gladiator who seriously breaks the rules. All the boys were given a code of conduct when they signed up, and all of them had signed their names promising to follow it, but boys are boys and little rules are frequently broken or ignored, and sometimes, as in this case, big rules too. After some heated discussion, with Anthony and Michella arguing for branding the boy on his butt, or castrating him, or employing some other form of physical mutilation which would serve as a constant reminder to the boy of his misbehavior, calmer heads finally prevailed.

Everyone agreed that the boy should lose his phone-home privileges and be put on half-rations. Others suggested a variety of punishments, from which Jason, as head trainer, made the final recommendation:

"Half rations for one month and no phone calls home for that same period. Three days in the hot box, with regular ice baths, followed by one week of menial labor among the mules. Twenty lashes in view of his fellow gladiators before he rejoins them in the barracks. Are we agreed?"

Joshua's trainer Hannah spoke up, not out of any altruistic feelings for the boy, but purely out of her own sense of self-interest. Her pay was greatly affected by her gladiator's weekly and monthly performance. If he was out of action for a while, she could kiss her month-end bonus goodbye. "This will leave us one gladiator short for next week's competitions," she cleverly protested. "Recruitment says they'll have a reserve gladiator on the island by next month, for just this sort of problem. I recommend we defer Joshua's punishment until then."

There was a new round of debate on this issue, but Jason was quite firm. "These boys are all high-spirited and they're all athletic little fighters. And Alexander is right. They are all becoming exactly what we have been training them to be. Wild and occasionally violent little animals. As they get older they're only going to get harder to manage. We need to send them all a message they will not forget. Discipline must be harsh, severe, and immediate for any misbehavior. Unsanctioned fights, in particular, must be discouraged. We want them doing this to each other when the cameras are rolling, not during their leisure time. The sentence should stand as is. We will adapt the contests to compensate for the boy's absence."

Josh's trainer had to submit to the will of the majority but she wasn't happy about it. Most of all she was pissed at her troublesome little gladiator for being so stupid.

"Bring the boy to us," Jason said to one of the guards.

Joshua was marched out of his cell on a very short leash and made to stand alone in front of the ten trainers. Hannah glared at him. His young eyes danced with fear, but he showed no signs of crying.

"Boy Zero-Two," Jason began, "you have committed a serious offense. Assaulting a fellow gladiator is a class one violation of the rules of conduct. You will be punished accordingly. Do you have anything you'd like to say?"

Josh nodded his head.

"Remove the boy's muzzle," Jason said.

The nearest guard took the horrible thing off of Josh's face. The boy cast his eyes to his bare feet. "I'm real sorry, sir," the boy said, his small voice seeming to get lost in the big room filled with adults. "I… didn't mean to beat Danny up like that… he's my best friend here… can I tell him I'm sorry?"

"After you've completed your sentence."

Josh swallowed hard. How could he have managed to mess up so badly? Again. "Can I…can see my brother, please?"

"He's receiving his own punishment right now. You'll see him after you return to the barracks at the end of your sentence."

"What is my sentence, sir?" the eleven-year-old bravely asked.

When Jason told him, Josh's knees started quaking and he peed himself again, leaving a little puddle on the floor between his legs. That part about something called the hot box seemed particularly scary.

"Your sentence will be carried out immediately," Jason announced. "After you lick up your piss. Get down there and clean that mess you just made."

Josh's lips trembled. But still he did not cry. He immediately dropped to his hands and knees and lapped up his own urine with his tongue. When Jason was satisfied with the boy's efforts he ordered him back to his feet. Then he turned to the guards. "Take this boy to medical first. Have them give him a thorough enema. He was scheduled for a milking tomorrow. Make sure they take care of that too. Then confine him in hot box number 3. Standard incarceration procedures."

Josh stood still and very sad while the muzzle was once again placed over his mouth and strapped behind his head. Then he was dragged away. His upcoming ordeal in medical would prove to be only the start of his suffering.

From eleven-year-old Josh's perspective a complete round of four soapy enemas administered by Doctor Trench, followed by an hour on the milking machine seemed like punishment enough. However, once these procedures were completed, he was chained to the back of a four-wheeler and made to stumble along as fast as his shackled ankles would carry him as the guards drove out to a secured section of the beach.

Here, Josh was the first of the boy gladiators to see the hot boxes for himself. There were three of them, all within an enclosed razor-wire perimeter. All of them were made of metal. The first one appeared to have same dimensions as the cells back in the barracks. The second one was perhaps half this size. And box number 3, where Josh would be spending the next three days, was a cube, four feet by four feet by four feet [1.2 x 1.2 x 1.2 m] in dimension. Unlike the first two boxes which both had small barred windows at the tops of their doors, this one had no visible openings at all. Only when he was marched through the fence and standing in front of his new prison did he see several small holes, covered in mesh screening, drilled into the top of the box. This would be the boy's only source of light and fresh air for the next three days.

Since the boxes were on the beach, there was no shade and they would be completely exposed to the tropical sun. Just standing in front of the box, Josh could feel the oppressive heat reflecting off of it, and that was on the outside.

The guards removed all of the boy's shackles, and finally took off the humiliating muzzle. His iron collar remained in place. They unlocked Josh's chastity belt and took it off. The combination of boyish fear and the remarkable rarity of actually being freed from the belt caused the naked eleven-year-old boy's oversized penis to get hard instantly, sticking out at a forty-five degree angle in all of its remarkable six inch [15 cm] glory. Yes, thanks to the daily dosage of enhancement drugs, Josh's already big penis was getting even bigger. The guards ignored the boy's erection but not the future possibilities for misbehavior, now that the chastity belt was gone.

Josh's hands were put into a pair of locking leather mitts, identical to the ones his older brother had already experienced. The outer surfaces of the mitts were covered in small but very sharp spikes. If he even tried to touch his penis, just casually, the boy would be treated to an exquisite amount of agony.

"Bend over," one of the guards ordered.

They immediately pulled out his regular butt-plug, causing him to yelp, and replaced it with an even larger one which brought tears to the boy's eyes as it was forced up his tiny pre-teen boy-hole. This plug, Josh immediately learned, was especially evil. The guard who had inserted it flipped a small switch on the flat base which was sticking out of the lad's butt and the thing started vibrating. Slowly, but insistently. Josh could hear its muffled sounds inside him and he could certainly feel it. It was sending tingly feelings to that special spot deep in his butt. The boy's cock got even harder and started bobbing up and down.

"Battery is good for twenty-four hours, boy," the guard said. "When it runs down, we'll change it. If you're lucky, maybe you can cum that way. If not, you'll sure be wishing you could!"

Josh nodded miserably that he understood.

"Keep still now," one of the guards told him while his partner prepared the bio-sensors the eleven-year-old would be wearing during his incarceration in the box.

They were small, thin, flexible round devices each about the size of quarter dollars. They were self-adhesive as well for easy placement. One went on the boy's chest, another on the left side of his torso, a third on the inner side of his right thigh and fourth on his neck, wedged carefully under his collar. The last one was smaller than the rest and was placed right on the boy's hairless scrotum. Four more of them, simple pulse meters, were wrapped around the boy's thumbs and index fingers.

"What all this stuff for?" the boy asked.

"Medical will be monitoring your heartbeat and body temperature. We're putting you in here to be punished, not executed, so we have to make sure you don't get too hot and keel over."

"Oh. Thanks."

"No problem. You're not worth anything to anybody if you die."

Josh glared at them but offered no words of protest.

"Now get in."

The naked boy, still sporting an erection, crawled inside on his hands and knees. It was already unbearably hot inside and the door had been open for some time. The box was too small for Josh to stand up in, or to lay down in completely prone. He could sit in it just fine, or squat or kneel or curl up to go to sleep.

"Where, um, where do I pee, sir?" the boy asked.

"Right were you are. Box is made of iron. A little boy piss isn't going to hurt it. We'll hose it out twice a day when we take you out for your ice bath."

No bathroom. Not even a lousy bucket. He'd have to pee on the same floor he'd be sitting on, eating on, and sleeping on.

"One meal a day for you. We'll bring it after sunset."

They tossed him a bottle of water and then the door to the box was closed and locked. Josh had almost no light except for what was coming through the tiny holes in the top.

'Gosh, it's hot in here already!' the boy thought to himself. In his innocence, the sweating eleven-year-old had no concept of just how hot things were going to get inside that tiny metal box.

It was nearly thirty minutes before Lucifer's knot went down and the giant dog could finally pull out of Christopher's butt. When he did, Chris immediately farted out several huge globs of gooey doggy cum. He felt totally wide open back there, with his own ass-juices running down his legs. He put his hand back there, feeling the warmth coming out of him and the wetness. His teenaged cock remained half hard, which only added to his embarrassment.

'Little bitch likes it,' one of the guards had said earlier, while Lucifer was still in him. 'Boy must be in heat! No wonder Lucifer jumped right on him!'

Now with the huge doggy dong finally out of his sore and ravaged butt, Chris crawled away to spot near the edge of the fence, broken and humiliated. As part of his punishment he was not allowed to stand or sit like a normal boy, so he simply curled up and drew his knees to his chest and tried to get control of his emotions. Ian, who had suffered similar torment, albeit with a much smaller dog, inched over on all fours and joined him in his misery. Both boys were hurting and humiliated and Chris was still deathly frightened of these terrible creatures. The dogs themselves seemed to have temporarily lost interest in them, but it was not long before some of the lesser canines in the pack began sniffing around the two boys, pressing their moist noses into the boys' soft hairless genitals, and nuzzling their butts. The dogs started yipping at one another, and finally two of them managed to drive the rest off. These two creatures weren't a big as Lucifer and Mephistophiles, but they were several years younger and very strong and very eager to breed.

"Alright, boys," one of the guards said, "looks like Cabal and Moloch want to take their turns. Get back on your hands and knees."

Ian humbly obeyed and got into position. Chris stared at the guards and then the dogs and refused to do as ordered. The guards drew their shock sticks and zapped the thirteen-year-old several times.

"I said up, boy! On all fours. Now!"

Ian closed his eyes and looked away as Chris' shrill screams filled the air. The dog Cabal was already inching closer to him, sniffing at the boy's warm tight hole, temporarily held at bay by the strong scent of Mephistophiles which only his canine nose could detect emanating from the eleven-year-old's sweaty nude body.

"Get up!"

The guards continued to hit Chris with the shock sticks, then began beating the boy with the blunt ends.

"Okay, okay!" Chris cried out, finally pulling himself up into position.

As punishment, the guards dragged the boy on all fours over to a post set deeply into the ground and chained his collar to it. "You'll stay right there, pup! Bring Moloch over."

The dog in question was led over by one of the guards. The beast took no time at all in mounting the thirteen-year-old boy. Chris' ass was now so open and so loose that Moloch was able to ram his long thick doggie dong right into him without any resistance at all. Chris moaned and wailed as he felt his ass being torn and violated yet again. Once more his teenaged cock hardened and began to drip almost immediately.

'Oh, no! Not again!' Chris thought in shame and distress. 'Why does this make my dick so hard?'

It was quite some time later when the two dogs disengaged from the boys. The guards pulled the beasts away and they immediately lost interest in the boys they'd mounted just moments before. Chris and Ian both sported aching boners at this point, and the guards decided it would be funny to have the human pups mount each other. With Chris still chained to the post, Ian was dragged over and positioned behind the older boy.

"Stick your hard little fuck-stick right in there boy," one of the guards said to the bewildered eleven-year-old.

Ian seemed hesitant at first and unsure exactly what he should do, but his four-inch [10 cm] erection was definitely eager for attention.

"Just put your little cock in his hole. Just get up there and fuck him good."

Ian pointed his pre-teen boner at Chris' gapping ravaged boyhole, shuffled forward on his knees and slid his cute little erection right into Chris' butt without any trouble at all. With his rectum torn and opened by the dogs, Chris was barely aware of Ian's slim four-inch [10 cm] rod poking around inside him. Ian grabbed hold of the older boy's hips and began rutting like a little doggie himself. Chris was loose, but was still warm and wet and at only thirteen, still tight enough to provide the perfect amount of friction. It was not long before Ian was moaning and grunting and thrusting his young hips faster and harder.

Chris had now been fucked by several men, two dogs, and now one of his fellow boy gladiators. This was probably the most humiliating. He was the older one. He naturally should have been the one doing the fucking, but soon he too started moaning and gasping as Ian's wild haphazard fucking began to stimulate his prostate.

"Fuck him good, boy," the guards encouraged. Ian was now in heaven. The eleven-year-old's cock had never been so hard in all his young life. Having just recently experienced his first wet cum he was desperate to have another one.

"Mmmm, gggh, gettin' close, mate," he said to Chris as he continued to ram the older boy's ass.

Both boys were sweating in the tropical sun. Chris was leaking and panting. Little Ian's little member was actually feeling quite nice up there now and he was starting to get more and more excited and more and more aroused. All thoughts of humiliation at being so roughly fucked by a younger boy had long vanished in his perpetually horny thirteen-year-old brain.

"Ohhh, oohhh, yeah, Ian, fuck me, dude! Fuck me good! Harder, dude. Harder!"

Ian needed no encouragement. His balls were starting to tingle. He could feel it happening. The guards noticed it too.

"Clench your little ass, pup," they said to Chris. "Make that little guy cum!"

Chris really had little control over his sphincter at the moment, having already had it fucked so thoroughly by the two dogs, but he did his best to clamp down, good enough to send Ian over the edge.

The eleven-year-old cried out in a high-pitched moan and shot his small amount of thin clear fluid into Chris' bowels. He experienced several more dry spasms after that, before resting his head on Chris' back, keeping his softening boy-cock in the thirteen-year-old's butt.

"Hah! That was brilliant," the cameraman recording everything said to the guards. "Now make them switch. The older one's still got one hell of a bone between his legs."

Chris was indeed still hard. Almost painfully so. The thought that he might actually get a chance to get his rocks off left him panting even more rabidly than before.

"How 'bout it, pup? Wanna cum? Wanna fill this boy's guts with your doggie seed?"

Chris nodded emphatically that he did. Not even for a moment did he think about sparing the younger boy the pain of having yet another big hard cock up his little pre-teen ass.

The guards quickly switched the boys' positions, chaining Ian to the post and holding Chris back by his collar until they had Ian on all fours in front of him.

"Go at it, pup!" the guard said, releasing his hold on Chris' collar.

Chris got down on his knees and shuffled forward until the tip of his aching itching cock was just at the entrance to Ian's back door. Only now, as he was about to do it, did his gentler nature take over.

"You sure I can do this to you, Ian?" he asked.

"I just did it to you, mate," the astute youngster observed. "Felt great too. Besides, I don't think neither of us really got a choice. Just fuck me, Chris. Just do it fast, okay?"

Chris had no problem agreeing to that. He was so horny, so desperate to have a real cum that he wanted to get it off as fast as he could. He pushed himself into Ian slowly at first, feeling the warmth and wetness of the eleven-year-old's hole. Being so young yet, Ian was still remarkably tight, even considering the fact that two large canines had already been inside him.

Chris had never imagined actually doing this to another boy. He sort of always assumed he'd be the one taking the cocks in his mouth and up his butt. This was heaven. No wonder Ian had been shouting and grunting so much when their positions had been reversed. No wonder Jason and Bruce and Lance had taken so much pleasure from his teenaged ass.

"Ohhhh my fuckin' god," he gasped as he went in all the way, pressing his hairless groin against Ian's smooth tanned butt, forcing his six-plus inches [15+ cm] of thirteen-year-old boymeat into the younger boy's guts.

Ian winced and whined and clenched his eyes closed tightly. Chris had a big dick. Not as big as either of the dogs, but big enough to hurt. "Do it fast, Chris, please," he begged.

Chris began thrusting his hips in and out, in and out, his tongue protruding from his mouth, his eyes closed as tightly as Ian's. He began driving his young teen meat deep into the eleven-year-old's butt, then pulling out all the way before driving in again. Each hard thrust stimulated Ian's immature prostate, causing his small cock to harden and start leaking once again.

"Faster, Chris, faster," Ian whimpered as the pain slowly mixed with burning pleasure deep inside him. "Faster…" he curled his little toes, let out a deep and surprisingly manly-sounding groan and immediately experienced a prostatic orgasm, his cock uncontrollably dribbling clear fluid onto the dirt beneath him.

Ian's shaking and trembling and the sudden clenching of his rear end sent Chris over the edge too.

"Oh, yeah!!! Now you're fucked!" the older boy yelled as he grabbed hold of Ian by his slender hips and rammed his cock into the younger boy with violent finality. He came hard and fast in six powerful spasms, each one seeming to feel stronger than the one before. Chris was almost dizzy by the time his orgasm finally subsided. He pulled out slowly, his copious boy-seed leaking out of Ian's torn and ruined ass shortly thereafter.

The guards now chained both of the boys to the post and ordered them to remain on their hands and knees, should some of the less dominant canines wish to take their turns with these strange new furless, hairless puppies that had suddenly appeared in the kennel, and would just as suddenly disappear come the next day.

This was the second time that Josh found himself in isolation for an extended period of time. Unlike his quiet and normally introspective brother, solitude was something that generally made the outgoing and energetic Josh very anxious and very unhappy. At the present moment it was this, being locked alone and naked in that tiny metal box, that was proving to be the worst torture for the boy. The heat was bad. No doubt there, but this was the tropics. It was always hot here. Everywhere. All the time. Even at night. The barracks would finally start to cool off a bit sometime near dawn, but once the sun came up, the temperature would start to soar again.

And so Josh just sat there with his legs crossed in front of him, sweating a lot and feeling the walls slowly closing in on him. His only light, and only ventilation, came from the small holes drilled into the top of the box. These were covered with a thick steel mesh, similar to that which covered with windows back at the barracks. There was no way the boy could poke his fingers out through them, and the mesh was so thick that he really couldn't even see the sky through it, just the dim light.

His blond hair was already soaked and plastered to his face and shoulders. His skin was covered in a fine sheen of boy-sweat, and it was trailing down his face onto his chest and tummy as he sat there. His cock was hard again. It had softened for a few moments, only to be unmercifully driven back to full hardness by the continued vibrations of the special butt-plug they'd shoved into him before locking him in the box. Josh had made the mistake of trying to play with himself with the spiked mitts on his hands.

The end result was a lot of pain and a scratched and slightly bloodied boy-cock. The spikes were extremely sharp and abrasive. They were meant to pierce the sensitive skin of a misbehaving boy's penis and they had done just that to the poor eleven-year-old. Josh decided no matter how horny he became, no matter how hard his big oversized penis got, he would not ever touch it again while his hands were locked inside those damned mitts.

He found he even had to be careful when he picked up his water bottle. If he didn't handle it carefully he risked puncturing it, sending his only source of water dribbling out onto the hard, hot metal floor of the box. He had no idea when he might get more, or when they might come back to feed him. He'd already forgotten about the bio-sensors attached to his skin. They had no real weight or anything, so it was easy enough to overlook them. But the fact was the boy's vital signs were being closely monitored, and would be watched around the clock for the duration of his confinement.

Josh was daydreaming when he was suddenly jarred back to reality by a voice that clearly belonged to Doctor Trench. There must have been a speaker somewhere inside the box.

"Drink some water, Zero-Two."

Josh fumbled around and gently picked up the water bottle, putting it to his lips and gulping it down.

"Slowly!"

The boy slowed down and after several minutes finished the bottle.

"Is your bottle empty?"

"Yes," Josh answered to no one. They must have had a way to hear him in the box as well.

"The guards will bring you another one shortly. You're going to have to pee in a few more minutes. Tell me when you do."

"O… okay," the boy stammered. This was so odd, talking to someone he could not see, but whom he was now sure could somehow see him. He began to crawl around inside the tiny box, looking around for the speaker or the camera, but he couldn't readily identify anything but the four hot featureless metal walls, the metal floor, and the metal roof of the sweltering little prison that would be his home for the next three days.

"Don't like you guys spyin' on me," he pouted, speaking in a low soft voice. There was no response, so he assumed his protest had gone unheard. Probably for the best.

Josh had no idea how much time had passed since he's first entered the box, but the light outside had changed. He was half asleep, his back resting against one of the sides, when the door was pulled open. Light and a blast of what felt to him like cool air swept over him immediately.

"Get out, boy," one of the guards said. "Time for your ice bath."

Josh crawled out. He was hot and sweaty. His face and chest red with the first signs of overheating. As the boy got to his knees he noticed a large cylindrical tank on a trailer behind the four-wheeler driven by the guards. The two uniformed men pulled him up by his collar, and dragged him over to the cylinder. It had a hatch on the top which they quickly pulled open. Inside, Josh could see water. Ice water. Mostly ice in fact. Before the naked boy knew what was happening, the guards yanked the battery-powered plug out of his butt. Then they lifted him up and threw him into the ice bath. The eleven-year-old sputtered and shrieked and flailed about with his arms and legs, ironically like a fish out of water, as he sunk slowly into the watery ice. He tried desperately to pull himself out of the tank but the rounded sides were smooth, the ice slippery and he had no way to get any leverage.

"Nooo! No! Please don't d… d… drown me! I'll b… b… be a good boy from now on, I p… p… promise!"

Josh's body temperature had plunged immediately, causing him to shiver violently.

"You're not going to drown, stupid," one of the guards said as he stood over the tank and stared down into Josh's terrified eyes. "This'll cool you off good, boy. Help get that cock soft too," the other guard stated.

Josh continued to struggle as he felt his body getting colder and colder. His balls retreated up inside him and his fingers and toes were already going numb. The guards forced the boy to endure the torture of the ice bath for another ten minutes before finally pulling him out. When they did, Josh lost control of his bladder and peed all over the ground. The guards simply laughed at him, forcibly bent him over and shoved the vibrating plug back into his butt. They took turns stroking the eleven-year-old's cock until he again sported a full erection. Then they made him crawl back into the box.

Josh was still terrified from this latest ordeal and trying his best not to cry, but now he was also really and truly pissed off. Still laughing, the guards tossed him another bottle of water and slammed the door, locking the boy alone inside once again. They spent the next several minutes banging on the outside of the box with the heavy blunt ends of their shock-sticks, creating a deafening cacophony inside the tiny box. Josh first tried to cover his ears with his hands, but immediately scratched them up against the sharp spiked mitts.

"Shut up! Shut up! Go away!" the boy screamed at them, banging back against the metal walls as hard as he could with his balled-up fists.

"Fuck you!" he shouted to them as he finally heard his tormentors drive away. Next time he'd be ready for them. Next time he was not going to let them put him in that icy water. Next time it would be different. They were messing with the wrong gladiator. Next time…

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