Chapter One

"Wake up Bobby, you don't want to be late for your audition."

The boy grimaced.

"I am awake mum and my name is Robin. Not Robert, and absolutely not Bobby."

"OK, Robin, I forgot. Now up you get."

An hour later, mother and son had breakfasted and were on their way to the city-centre-up-market hotel where the Batman and Robin auditions were due to take place. Robin was proud as punch in his brand new, pint-sized junior superhero outfit – black mask and gloves, red tunic adorned with the letter R, yellow cape and green pants. Although the boy was only seven years old, the pants were so tight – Robin having rejected more commodious sizes – that his genitals were clearly delineated. He liked it that way. His mom was not so sure.

They arrived at the hotel. The foyer was crammed with superheroes and villains – notably a plethora of evil-looking Jokers and Riddlers. He looked around to see where the other Robins were, but not a single one was to be found. He felt a little frisson at the thought that he – a kid of seven – could find himself in mortal combat with these huge, ugly villains if he got the job. The thought that he might not get the job caused the tears to well up. He needn't have worried. He was the only candidate for the role of Batman's henchboy.

A smartly dressed woman with a clipboard approached them.

"Hello, you must be the mother of this impressive young actor here. Hi, Robert!"

"Please, I prefer Robin."

"Well, isn't that appropriate! OK, hi Robin!"

"Hi, Miss!"

She addressed his mother. "Well we need to take your handsome young son away now to acquaint him with the role he has to perform in his audition. If you'd like to step into that small conference room, you will find coffee, cookies and today's newspapers. Let the concierge know if you need anything else."

"Uh, I thought I would be present for his audition. Sort of, like his chaperone."

"Oh gracious me, he doesn't need a chaperone! He's a big boy, aren't you Robin? And if anything happens to upset you just let me know and I'll go and find your mother. But it is a strict rule that candidates do not have the distraction of seeing close relatives in the room whilst they are auditioning. So if you insisted on being present I am afraid that Robin would have to withdraw."

The child looked up at his mother. "Please, mum. I'll be fine. I know where to find you."

Reluctantly, his mother gave her assent. She hugged Robin ("Please, mum, not in front of all these people!") and then adjourned to the conference room.

"Follow me, then, honey," said the nice woman.

They proceeded down a long corridor, descended a flight of concrete steps and exited the hotel via a fire escape. An anonymous white bus was parked immediately in front of them.

"Please, Miss, where are we going?" asked Robin. "My mom will be worried she can't find me in the hotel."

"We need to audition a scene using facilities that the hotel doesn't have. Don't worry about your mom. She is of no concern to you now."

The child blanched. "What do you mean, she…."

The woman turned to face Robin, crouched so that their faces were level and held him firmly by his shoulders. "Now listen, Robin, you have a long and arduous day ahead of you. Save all your strength for fighting off villains. Leave the worrying about your mum to us. Now, onto this bus with you."

"But…but…"

With more speed than the boy would have thought possible she removed her right arm from his shoulder and viciously slapped his face. For a few seconds his expression was one of total surprise. Then he burst into tears.

"Listen kid, unless you do everything we ask you to as soon as we ask you will be receiving a lot more slaps – and worse. Now, once again, into the bus with you.

Robin complied, muttering between sobs as he did so. "I hate you, you're a nasty woman, I want to go home, I want my mommy."

But he was soon distracted by the sight of all his favourite superheroes and villains entering the bus. As if by prior agreement, a Joker took his right hand and a Batman his left and they walked him to the back of the bus. The slap now forgotten, he was in seven-year-old bliss with his two favourite comic characters on either side of him. Batman spoke first.

"Well, Robin, it's good to meet you at last. We know you'll make a great success of your part. Oh yes, the part is yours. There were no other applicants anything like as suitable for the role as you. For a start, all the others were much too old. Some were as old as 12! So today is all about who gets to play Batman – well that's also been decided, that will be me – and who gets to play the Joker, with bit parts for the Riddler, Cat Woman and some of the other lesser villains. For your main scene a simple storyline has been scripted. Batman has managed to escape the clutches of the villains who need to recapture him by fair means or foul. Fortunately for the villains they managed to prevent Robin escaping with his hero. They are convinced that Robin knows Batman's whereabouts and will use whatever measures are necessary to make him squeal.

Whilst talking, Batman had started to stroke Robin's thighs. The boy started to complain ("You're not supposed to…") but Batman gently shushed him and allowed his hand to migrate to Robin's little package. As he began to stroke the boy's cock, he informed him that unfortunately they were going to have to hurt him quite badly in order to get him to reveal Batman's location.

"My friend here (indicating the Joker) will be in charge of this part of the action, and as you might imagine there will be some quite healthy competition amongst the other 40 or so villains on this bus to see who else gets the privilege of hurting you. Look, I do believe he's about to give you a foretaste of the pain that is in store for you."

Whilst Batman had been talking, the Joker had started to massage Robin's grape-sized testicles. Now, as if on a command from Batman, he squeezed them tightly. The child screamed. It was by far the most painful experience of his life – so far.

"Do we really have to inflict real pain like that on you, you might ask? Well I'm afraid the answer is yes. Miming it just really wouldn't be as authentic. The audience will only appreciate what we lay before them if its authenticity is not in doubt. In addition to the pain, you will be humiliated and generally treated with contempt. This too will need to be authentic, so just to get you in the right frame of mind – kneel in front of me and lick my boots."

"Lick your boots? No, please, I can't do that, I'll be sick, I'll….AAARGH!"

"Do you really want the Joker to turn your balls into mush? Because you're going about it the right way. Now – lick my boots!"

Robin licked Batman's boots. The bus arrived at its destination – a disused warehouse on the wrong side of the tracks. Robin was bundled off the bus and into the warehouse. Two chains were suspended from piping running the length of the building. While Batman held him firmly in place, the Joker produced a knife and proceeded to cut every stitch of clothing off the child. Once naked his hands were cuffed and the cuffs attached to the chains at a height that meant that the seven-year-old had to stand on his tippy-toes.

To his distress he now realised that the erection which Batman had induced whilst they were on the bus had never entirely gone away. Batman smiled sardonically and gave his acolyte's cock a little squeeze.

"Keep it stiff while you're being filmed and you might survive the night. Let it go soft and…who knows what a roomful of disappointed men – and cat-women – will decide to do to you."

Robin shuddered with fear.

"So," said Batman, "Time to make a film. I will be behind the camera. You will be in the clutches of the Riddler and the Joker who have just one objective in mind – to make you reveal my whereabouts. You will be brave and tell your captors that you will never betray me. Right, they will say, in that case we will just have to flog the truth out of you. And this they will proceed to do. Every so often they will give you another chance to betray me, but you will never do so. NEVER, do you hear me? So if for instance you were to reply 'he's behind that camera', I can assure you that those would be the last words ever to cross your cute little lips. All right! Lights, camera, ACTION!"

All the lights in the warehouse were dimmed except for a couple of spots trained on the chained, nude seven-year-old. He was looking visibly distressed, which required none of his acting skills whatsoever. After 10 seconds or so he was approached by the Joker and the Riddler. He had of course no way of knowing whether it was the same Joker as the one who had squeezed his balls in the bus – there were lots of them and they all looked identical. But this one seemed kinder than the previous one. He stood directly behind Robin and gently fondled his cock and balls.

"What a pretty little boy you are," the Joker said. "How sad it would be to have to mar your pretty body for life because you were too proud to answer a simple question. So all you have to do to be set free and reunited with your loving mama is to tell us – Where Is Batman?"

Robin summoned up the courage to reply in character.

"I won't tell you. I will never betray Batman!"

The audience were clearly delighted by this response. They admired the child's spunk and looked forward to the lengthy attempts to break his resolve which he had set in train. Someone handed the Joker a paddle which he used with professional expertise to inflict serious pain on the tyke. After his arse had turned a vivid crimson, the Joker asked the question once again. "Where Is Batman?"

Robin had stopped screaming after the first 15 or 20 blows of the paddle and was now whimpering pathetically. The Joker whispered in his ear, close enough for no-one else to hear.

"You're doing brilliantly. The pain is going to get worse now but keep on shouting that you will never betray Batman."

The Joker backed off and his place was taken by one of the Riddlers, armed with a three-foot bamboo cane.

Between sobs Robin managed to answer the question, promising never to betray Batman, but then spoiled the illusion of being a junior superhero by begging to be set free, to see his mom and to go home.

"It hurts so bad. I want my mom. I WANT MY MOM!" he cried. And as a further failure to obey instructions, his cock had started to droop.

Secretly, this outpouring of distress by a tiny tot was exactly what the audience of assorted superheroes had come to see. But they had to maintain the illusion that Robin had ruined the film by departing from script.

"Oh you bad boy," said the Riddler. "All you had to do was speak your lines. We would have given you a few strokes of the cane and then let you go. But now – now you are about to experience the worst punishment beating that any child has ever had to endure, starting right now!"

The Riddler stalked around the suspended boy, contemplating where to land his first blow. He decided on the chest. Then the calves. Then shoulders. Then neck. Within minutes Robin's body was a bloody mess, but amazingly the blows had spoken directly to his cock which was now fully erect again. The harder the Riddler beat him, the stiffer it became. Eventually the beating stopped. Once again he was asked to disclose Batman's whereabouts. This time it was less a question of refusing to betray Batman as of being unable to speak coherently at all.

It was time for the denouement. It was time to unleash the sjambok. One blow from this gruesome instrument of torture would cut through skin, tendons and muscles and land directly on the spine. Total silence descended on the assembly as the Riddler raised the evil whip and then brought it smashing down on Robin's back…

Chapter Two

"Wake up Bobby, you don't want to be late for your audition."

The boy grimaced.

"I am awake mum and my name is Robin. Not Robert, and absolutely not Bobby."

"OK, Robin, I forgot. Now up you get."

As he put on his garish Robin uniform, he said, "Mum, I had a weird dream last night. I think I was tied up and something bad happened to me, but I can't remember what."

"You were probably just a bit over-excited because of the audition. I mean after all Robin often does get tied up in the Batman stories, doesn't he?"

"You're probably right mum."

But as the day unfolded – breakfast, the walk to the hotel, the foyer full of Batman villains, the girl who shepherded his mom away, the walk to the bus – he had an increasing sense of what an adult would have called déjà vu. He was seeing these people and places for the first time and yet it was as if he already knew them. And he knew that some bad things had happened to him here.

So at some level he was not exactly surprised when Batman and the Joker diddled him on the bus and made him lick their boots, or when he first saw the shining chains suspended from the pipework, or when he was stripped naked flaunting his kiddie erection, or when the chains were applied to fix him in a kneeling position, effectively floating in the air with his backside perfectly positioned for what would come next. Not that the kid yet knew what could come next. But he was about to find out.

"Ever been fucked, boy?" asked the Riddler.

Robin did not have the slightest idea what the man was talking about. His inability to answer made the Joker angry.

"Don't you come over the innocent with me, you little slut. All you would-be child actors are the same, thinking you can get yourself the best parts by opening your legs to every agent, producer, director or publicist your slut mom gets you into bed with. How old were you when she first started whoring you around. Four? Five? Did she ever get you gang-raped? Did you like that, you little whore? For your sake I hope you did because whatever else happens here today you are going to get well and truly gang-raped."

It was obvious to the entire assembly that the child was as pure as the driven snow and had never encountered words like slut, whore and rape in his life. But that just made his humiliation all the more exciting for the spectators, many of whom were now in the process of releasing their erect penises from their confines.

"First though," said the Riddler, "I have a question for you. Answer correctly and after you have been well and truly fucked, we will send you home. Refuse to answer, or lie, and something will be inserted in your backside which is a great deal larger and will do a great deal more damage than any of the fine cocks you can now see around you. So, let's get this show on the road. Where Is Batman?"

Robin was rather innocent but he wasn't stupid. He had worked out what "fuck" meant He also had some experience of things being shoved up his arse – the suppositories his mom swore by and the enema nozzle she had used on him a few times when he was constipated. In his limited experience, initial sharp pain soon gave way to feelings which curiously combined discomfort and pleasure. But he could see as he looked around him, by just how great a margin these cocks exceeded the enema nozzle in length and girth. And he had been threatened with an unspecified object even larger than an adult cock. Yet he had to reply to the Riddler's question.

"I don't know where he is, I really don't. He never told me where he was going."

The Riddler looked long and hard at the boy, then turned to one of the other Riddlers and said: "No offence, my friend but your cock looks smaller than most. Use your fingers first, then fuck him for as long as you can so that's he's well opened up for the rest of us. I don't want him spoiled; the time for blood-letting will come later."

"No please don't hurt me," the boy begged.

"Shush, pretty baby," whispered the alternate Riddler. "I'll be as gentle as I can. Trust me, you may actually find the experience enjoyable after a while."

Considerately he did not tell the boy that there would be no pleasure whatsoever to be had from the latter stages of a vicious gang rape.

With one finger gently probing the child's anus and the other fondling his genitals the man prepared him for his deflowering with as much compassion as he could. After some initial squeals, Robin found himself experiencing the curious mixture of discomfort and pleasure that his mom's use of the enema bag had evoked, but in a far more intense form. Eventually the man came. Robin assumed that the fluid entering him was piss but was rapidly disabused when the Riddler withdrew his spent cock, walked round to the boy's head, gently coaxed his mouth open and told the boy to lick it all up. Which he did, despite not knowing what it was he was licking.

Most of the rapists who followed were both faster and more brutal in their assaults. Only one or two of them showed any pity for the boy's predicament and whispered words of reassurance. It was far more usual for the rapists to echo the foul insults that the nasty Riddler had spewed all over him earlier. He must have quickly appreciated that words like slut, whore and faggot were not exactly terms of endearment, even if their precise meaning was unclear to him.

The gang rape went on for hours. Robin's anus was in a bad way by the time that the last villain had come inside him. But his ordeal was not over yet. Once again he was asked where Batman was. Once again he said he didn't know. To encourage him to come up with the right answer, several of the villains asked and were granted permission to fist-fuck the tyke, doing even more damage to his sensitive and delicate innards in the process. Now he was screaming. Like the smell of blood to a bull, the sound of his screams simply made the villains desperate to proceed to the final stage of his torture.

Having refused yet again to betray Batman, he was unchained and led to a three-foot column embedded in the concrete. Its top had the shape and dimensions of a well-endowed man's erect cock. The lower part of the column widened out as it approached the floor and had sharp barbs protruding from it all the way down. Its total height was only slightly less than Robin's. His screams intensified as four villains lifted him, held him over the instrument of torture and slowly but firmly lowered him onto it until…

Chapter Three

"Wake up Bobby, you don't want to be late for your audition."

The boy grimaced.

"I am awake mom and my name is Robin. Not Robert, and absolutely not Bobby."

"OK, Robin, I forgot. Now up you get."

"Mom, you didn't give me an enema while I was asleep, did you?"

"Gracious me, Bob…uh, Robin. No of course I didn't. Why do you ask?

"It must have been a dream then. There was something in my butt which kept getting bigger and bigger. I think it must have woken me up."

To the boy's embarrassment his mother checked out his butt and reported that there was nothing amiss with it – no swelling, no discolouration, nothing to suggest that anything more substantial than a seven-year-old's turd had passed that way in recent times.

The boy was soon prattling on about this and that until they left the hotel and approached the bus. Here the feeling that he had been here before returned with a vengeance, amplified when he found himself being guided to his seat by the Joker and the Riddler. Sitting nestled between them he could not fail to be struck by how much bigger and stronger they were than he. He felt a great need to abase himself in front of them. But how? Suddenly he knew the answer. Nothing would demonstrate how subservient he was than to kneel between them and lick their boots, which to their considerable surprise and pleasure he proceeded to do.

"Yes you pretty little sex-slave," said the Joker, "Lick our boots until they shine with your spittle. That's what you were born to do, slut."

Robin's tiny cock stiffened as he realised that this was nothing less than the literal truth.

The lighting inside the warehouse was focussed, not on the chains but on what looked like a slatted day-bed with cuffs at all four quarters. He was gently laid down on it, facing upwards, and his ankles and wrists were cuffed. At the head of the bed was some sort of mechanism to which a large wheel was attached. Robin's blood ran cold as he realised from an old school lesson that torture victims were often 'broken on the rack'. Although ignorant of the mechanics, Robin was quite certain that he was about to be broken. He was scared out of his wits, yet amazingly his little cock became even firmer than before. This did not go unnoticed.

"What a pervert!" said one of the many Jokers. "About to die an agonising death if he does not tell us where to find Batman, and still as stiff as a nail."

"So," asked the Riddler, "Where Is Batman?"

"I don't know! I don't know! I really don't know! And I would not tell you where he was even if I did know."

The audience was much impressed by this show of courage. A Joker was encouraged to activate the stretching mechanism at the head of the bed. He gave the wheel one full turn. Robin's seven-year-old body, already as taut as a drum, was stretched several inches. He screamed.

"One more time. Where Is Batman?"

All Robin was now capable of were inarticulate noises. That earned him yet another turn of the wheel, then another, then a gut-wrenching cracking sound as…

Chapter Four

"Wake up Bobby, you don't want to be late for your audition."

The boy grimaced.

"I am awake mom and my name is Robin. Not Robert, and absolutely not Bobby."

"OK, Robin, I forgot. Now up you get. Have you got a stiff back, sweetie? You seem to be moving a bit awkwardly."

"It's probably just sleeping in the wrong position. I'm fine, mom."

Breakfast and registration proceeded smoothly, his mom was found somewhere to pass the time and he found himself in the charge of a nice woman with a clipboard.

The long walk to the rear exit of the hotel and the waiting bus convinced Robin that this was to be no ordinary audition and that his mom was no longer able to look after him. The realisation that he was being followed into the bus by a score or more of characters from Batman was puzzling but was also rather exciting. These comic book villains could do anything they wanted to him. What is more, he realised that he actually wanted them to do whatever they wanted to him. He knew his Batman comics well enough to know that time and again Robin was threatened with unspeakable tortures from which he only managed to escape at the last moment. He was now not entirely sure that he wanted to escape. The thought of being tortured by these big men was an intoxicating one and had an immediate effect on his cocklet, an effect which did not go unnoticed.

His immediate companions, Batman and the Joker, realised that they had that rare delicacy in their hands – a slutty pre-pubescent masochist who would willingly allow himself to be punished to the very limits of his endurance.

Batman addressed him. "Well, Robin, this is your opportunity to show everyone on this bus that I am your master and you are my slave, and that if you allow yourself to be captured by one or more of my enemies you will suffer an excruciating fate. So what do you think you can do to convince me that you are a worthless dirty boy that I can treat however I like? Any ideas?"

An idea immediately sprang unbidden to Robin's mind. "Please sir, I should like to lick your boots."

This the bus passengers had not expected. Batman burst into laughter, but then took Robin by the chin and said, in a much quieter voice, "Not a bad idea, but I have better plans for your tongue. I want you to suck off every man on this bus!"

"S..suck off? What does that mean, Sir?"

Batman told him what it meant – graphically. "Some men will want you to whirl their semen around in their mouth and then swallow it. Some will face-fuck you so fiercely that their semen will shoot straight down the little red road to your stomach. And some will want nothing better than to spray their semen all over your face. Anything that spills onto the floor, you have to lick up. Basically, whatever they want you to do, you make sure you do it. Or else."

Hearing what was expected of him introduced the child to a cocktail of emotions he had never experienced before. Fear, certainly, but also sexual arousal and the combination of pleasure and humiliation that characterised the role he now had to play.

The men he had to service were adept at delaying their ejaculations, and the bus had reached its destination long before Robin had serviced even half the passengers. Never before had the Jokers, Riddlers and others seen so boyish a face coated with so much spunk. Some of it had coagulated, so that he could barely open his eyes. Some of it was continuing to drip onto the floor, from where as promised Robin was forced to lick it up.

But nobody was in a particular hurry to adjourn to the warehouse. The unusual equipment that had been assembled for Robin's benefit would still be there when they finally made their way inside.

Chapter Five

The first things that Robin saw when entering the warehouse were the chains suspended from the pipes. Long since stripped of his clothing, he was shivering with cold and fear. Little did he know just how effectively he was about to be heated up. Once he was in place, the catechism commenced. "Where Is Batman?"

His refusal and/or inability to answer resulted in the appearance of a gas ring with a tube linking it to a small gas container. The Riddler lit the gas at a low setting and moved it immediately blow the child's feet, suspended as they were about nine inches from the floor. Within a minute or so it was apparent that even at this low setting the gas ring was causing the soles of Robin's feet to redden.

Once again he was invited to betray Batman. Once again he refused. The gas was turned up. It was now not just uncomfortable, it was extremely painful, and blisters were beginning to form. A further refusal to answer led to a further increase in the severity of the flames to the point where Robin's feet and lower limbs were not just heating up, they were cooking.

The child's screams echoed through the warehouse. Some men had now started masturbating, even though they had been sucked off less than an hour ago. But then at a signal from the Batman behind the camera, the gas was turned off. Batman walked behind the boy and gently played with his cock and balls.

"You've been so brave, Robin, I'm really proud of you. A seven-year-old boy who of his own volition sucks off an entire busload of strange men – well that really takes some doing. My hunch is that you are happiest when you are hurting. Is that true?"

Robin had never quite thought of it in those terms but realised that it was nothing less than the truth. Being a defenceless, bound child surrounded by hordes of cruel men was the best experience of his short life.

"So, my little pain slut, you now face the fate that you have earned by defending me so loyally. Bring it on!"

A Riddler and a Joker wheeled on a contraption unlike anything Robin had ever seen. Its main component was a horizontal platform with the shape of the letter X, with cuffs to keep his hands and legs immobile. His hands were fixed together above his head at one end of the X whilst his feet were agonisingly splayed at the other end. In the gap between his legs was a buzz-saw of about 12 inches [30 cm] in diameter mounted on a gurney. Suspended from a canopy above his face were two skewers positioned exactly above his eyes. Leather straps were used to immobilise his head. During this whole procedure Batman never for a moment stopped playing gently with Robin's juvenile genitalia, and Robin never came anywhere near losing his erection.

"Let me tell you what happens now, little one. Right here are two switches which I am about to turn on. One will send the gurney with the circular saw slowly towards your crutch. The other will start the two suspended skewers on their equally slow journey towards your bright blue eyes. If I have calibrated my equipment properly, the saw will reach your groin just as the skewers reach your eyelids. This will give us all the unprecedented thrill of seeing you simultaneously severed and blinded."

The switches were thrown, the saw started moving slowly and whirring loudly, the skewers started their descent. Batman continued to fondle the child and the child maintained his little erection, even at the point when…

Chapter Six

"Wake up Bobby."

The boy grimaced.

"I am awake mom and my name is Robin. Not Robert, and absolutely not Bobby."

"OK, Robin, I forgot. Hey, are you feeling OK? Your eyes seem a bit bloodshot to me."

"My feet are a bit itchy and so is my….the bit of skin between my bottom and my…" Robin was too embarrassed to describe exactly where he felt itchy.

His mum smiled and said she would take a look. But first she said that she had some disappointing news for him.

"I've just received a call from the organisers of the Batman auditions. Unforeseen circumstances have forced them to cancel the whole event and they have no idea when, if ever, it will be rearranged. I'm so sorry darling, because I know how keen you were to be cast as Robin. But there we are. Let me just have a look at your rash. Then you can get dressed, we'll have our breakfast and then go home."

Robin was disappointed of course, but not as much as he might have expected. Somehow he knew that he already was Robin – Batman's Robin, not his mum's Bobby. There was a world beyond this one where he was even now enduring unspeakable torments in order to protect his master. Somewhere, somehow he would find the key to that realm.

The End