Skrimshaw & Zelamir

Tribute Boys
A Fantasy in Just One of Our Possible Futures

Book One
The Hacienda de los Niños Tributos del Ezzaro

Are you sitting comfortably and in private?
Then let us begin…

Chapter 1

Preface

The time is some ten decades in the future, world government has been elusive but now a handful of multinational companies run the world to ensure the advantage of their shareholders. Agriculture had failed to keep pace with population, the wealthy getting ever more so, and the poor more of a threat to the stability of those people who really matter. If you are starving you can not be an effective consumer and discharge your obligations to your betters. Rioting male teenagers demanding food, shelter, and education were not an asset in preserving self interest. The growing army of elderly pension-less destitute were equally embarrassing as it was thought not expedient to reduce the ability of those in employment to use their money in pursuit of their own happiness by taxation. The wealthy of course had an insatiable appetite for entertainment and travel, as well as exotic food.

Drastic measures were necessary, the G7 group of multinationals declared withdrawal of support for any national government who did not pass the Tribute Laws, most did with enthusiasm, a few idealists like Cuba tried to resist but eventually were forced to comply. The law is complex and required much military action to enforce, the history of which does not concern this story.

The essence of this Law is as follows.

Male Units of Population Resource below the age of seven years are regarded as Children and receive state assistance to help with their rearing. This includes compulsory schooling from age four culminating in the Assessment of Utilisation Potential grading them from A+ to E-. There are however strict rules as to how much non essential resources can be used on them. For instance their only clothing is to be a loincloth.

At the age of seven they are considered to be fully capable of agreeing to a binding contract, and are to be presented to the Community Recording Officer. In the event of guardian wishing to pay their Tribute in cash they are recorded and allowed to return home, to be presented annually in the same way, same payment, until their 14th birthday. They are in this case referred to as Candidates for Male Citizenship, popularly Fee Boys, in addition they have to satisfy minimum standards of health and education, clothing regulations and so on. They can proceed to Initiation after 14th birthday. Of course a guardian can also choose not to pay at any birthday and surrender his son in Tribute at a later date. Equally the State can pass a Judicial Order of Tribute on a boy breaking the law in some way. These measures are to ensure that there is no delinquency or vagrancy problems to trouble the wealthy.

If their guardian does not wish to pay he withdraws his son from school and by the same token the community, on the day before his seventh birthday and receives the boy's Assessment, this effects the amount he will receive in pension contributions as well as indicating the exact nature of the boys fate. The school Master who is also in charge of all aspects of welfare delivers a formal speech laying out a boys obligations and privileges under the Tribute System. The boy is then required to swear on oath his agreement, there is no appeal of failing to understand… Taken home he is stripped and his head shaven signifying his rejection from his family. On his birthday he is presented in Tribute. His guardian is presented with the same sum in gold, ten pieces, as the Tribute Tax for retaining him. In addition he receives a further gold piece for each grade in Assessment the boy has achieved. The boy is then identified by branding, fitted with a cheap collar with an identification number which includes his Assessment grade, and given a partial circumcision. He is then forwarded for processing, by the Central Population Resource Capitalisation and Social Security Directorate. Boys so processed are popularly referred to as Tribute Boys.

The Recording Officer is bound by his contract to deliver a Male Unit of Population Resource to its designated Contract Holder within seven days of branding. Units are to be in fresh marketable condition on delivery and have not been marked or utilised in anyway.

This is especial important when the source is a State using these Units to discharge their obligations to the International Banking Community. Recording Officers in States with these obligations should quickly identify Units that have qualities making them suitable for dispatch to Franchise Holders in the First World who can capitalise on the Units qualities.

Qualities desirable would include grace of form and features, artistic or sporting potential, but most importantly a strong spirit to break… And of course an A or B grade assessment…

A male guardian, in any event may only retain one Male Candidate for Citizenship over the age of fourteen capable of breeding. Excess numbers being gelded on that date by the Community Recording Officer, and passed on for processing by the Units of Nutritional Resource Corporation.

In the event of a guardian wishing to retain a gelded Candidate, a suitable Bond must be paid to ensure he is not a burden on the State and will adequately discharge his obligations as a consumer.

There are of course parallel statutes for Female Units of Population Resource, but that is not part of this story…

What is part of this story is The Effective Utilisation of Male Units of Population Resource Between the Ages of Seven and Fourteen Years…

Tribute Boys are eventually handed over to Franchise Holders, popularly called Tribute Masters, who are given a free hand under certain guidelines to maximise their investment. The sums of money paid for their Tribute Boys, is invested, less of course generous institutional expenses, to ensure a minimal pension for their guardian at the age of forty nine years. Differences in market value between various economic zones is utilised to pay off Third World Debt.

These Tribute Boys can be utilised in anyway that the Franchise Holder deems profitable, individuals can hold a Franchise for a given number of units from one upwards to two hundred. Corporate Franchise Holders up to seven hundred. The majority of Tribute Boys are utilised in manual labour producing desirable items for the International Consumer. Some are used in Service and Domestic industries. Other duties will of course be expected of them, but these are very much quick and squalid events in the poor communities where they are held. However the entertainment industry is one of the major areas of commercial enterprise in the world many Tribute Boys work in this. This includes a range of sports and contests where betting is also popular, and various artistic attainments, and satellite holo coverage, still popularly called TV, makes these very profitable.

A further asset of the Tribute System was that as it easily adapted to any religious or separatist fundamentalism that threatens the tranquilly of the state. It could be used to regulate and provide an outlet for their aggression. Quite simply conflicts can now be resolved by ritual combat between indoctrinated Tribute Boys belonging to the opposing factions, saving the general community all the destruction and damage to economic interests that plagued the 21st century, but allowing them to fully participate as spectators in the in the slaughter of the hated enemy factions; and to lick their wounded pride and train up another cadre of freedom fighters is they lost for a rematch.

Of course there are no limits placed on more explicit or personal performances expected from a Tribute Boy. Manual labour in these cases can be exploited as a training aid. The profits from his services, less the expenses of training him and feeding him are paid into his guardians pension fund. These sums can be quite large for exceptional demands or performances, transforming minimum pension into affluent old age.

The maximum utilisation of a Male Unit of Population Resource may in some instances leads to its temporary or permanent withdrawal from utilisation before its fourteen th birthday. In this event the beneficiaries of the performance or service being rendered at the time will pay the calculated amount of compensation into the Social Security Contract Fund. That fund will also sell insurance against this eventuality at attractive rates.

Franchise Holders are required of course provide suitably secure premises , often this is on large tracts of now useless farming land. And have to provide a basic minimum level of food and medical care. Unwarranted deaths and withdrawals from service will in time mean that the Franchise is not renewed.

Finally, on or before attaining the age of fourteen years a Tribute Boy, may request Release from his service in a manner of his choosing from certain options… This may also add considerably to the pension fund… This has to be carried out before the fifteen birthday. His choices are:

1. To make a Performance, or take part in a Sporting event that will in almost all cases cause his death. (In the case of an exceptional performance, or of exceptional artistic or intellectual talents, a pardon can be granted to live either as a full free citizen, this is fixed at a maximum statistical 1%. In this case he is expected to present his former Master with his first and second sons in gratitude. Or he can be pardoned as gelded free citizen). One of most popular events is the great Summer Games at the end of August, in essence the Tribute Boy is expected to kill himself in as entertaining and profitable way as possible, to remove the possibility of him breeding, and to ensure a steady drop in the population levels.

2. Gelding and some form of service. This could at the worst be some years in the fattening pens before being utilised, at best practising some skill, or wealthy patronage.

3. Gelding, himself, freedom of being dumped back in his own country / community without resources. This might be an option for a boy with a wealthy guardian, for the vast majority it is no option because they are then subject to local vagrancy laws.

You are called Mishear. you are in your 13th year, your parents raised you in a far off land full of heat and dust and poverty. You have never known clothes on your slim muscular body winter or summer since your father took you on his knee on your seventh birthday. He told you as the eldest son is was your duty to maintain your family and stand as tribute for their survival.

You both cried but there were no alternatives, the land agent had made it quite clear the immediate repayment of the debt was expected. He gently removed your loin cloth, the only permitted clothing of a boy before this special birthday, and shaved your head. You were bound and pushed outside to await the morning arrival of the Recording Officer.

In the cold hours just after dawn he led you naked, holding you tight by the hand, to the town square. There your loin cloths and your few possessions were burnt on the Recording Officers brazier, whilst the neighbours crowded round. As your existence faded into ashes the man withdrew the glowing brand, you were seized; held across the polished wood of the branding stock; your feeble squirming turned to agonised, screaming, thrashings as it was applied to your hip, forever identifying you as a Tribute Boy. Released you fell; still writhing in agony; into the pool of your own urine and faeces.

The crowd cheered and clapped, congratulated your father, The recording officer paid him the first of his tribute money in gold, a fortune of fifteen pieces, with the words of acknowledgement; "May your tribute bring you wealth, security and honour!" and added "Lucky man, a A grade brat! Some wealthy foreigner is going to have lots of fun with this one." His assistant riveted on the slim iron collar…

But that was long years of training and obedience ago, you still thrill to remember the roaring of an audience after the first of many classic performances as you lay, just as you had then, writhing, but then the agonies had been so much more, and the to the substances you lay in were added your own blood and his semen… Your long black straight hair is tied back with a ribbon; The collar you now are permitted is of an intricate wrought design as is the reward of your service and attainments. Your nipples are pierced with small golden rings, a gift from your adored Master, but that was a long time ago now, almost a long ago as the gift of the jewel studded chain round your waist, growing tighter daily it seems as your body thickens. Your fasting and training to the point of collapse seem no longer able to check your growth towards the terrors of maturity. Your whole being is consumed with the need to serve your Master, or his clients who choose to use you for his or her pleasure. From that moment of your father leading you as his naked Tribute, you have been trained only to serve, to perform, to suffer and to obey, even unto death. Your cock grows hard at the thought of the pain and how it brings you to the only orgasms you are permitted. Your dark body spasms, the scars paler in the moonlight. To pleasure yourself or permit another Tribute Boy to do so would be unthinkable as well as being rewarded by the most stringent sanction; castration of penis and testicles. Then there would be no more performances, no more tribute paid into your honoured fathers account, he might well be expected to replace you. Only fattening and going to the livestock market. But your master's clients have come for many months now without choosing you, always the younger ones now. Your rest is wracked by the distant screams from the Games Complex across the Stock Yard Compound. One of Tribute Boys who shares your sty is among the most fortunate ones chosen for this night. The other snuffles in his sleep at the other end of the wooden sleeping platform, too hot tonight to cuddle close for comfort. You long to know the true fulfilment of your destiny once more. You imagine how his golden body must be twisting under the lash and the depths he will be taken to. You weep for the loss of it, your uncircumcised penis hard against your belly seeps but there is no release.

This morning you removed three dark hairs from just above your penis, you looked carefully at your accounts, one really big performance might be sufficient. You know that the time has come for you to make the first free choice you are permitted, for most Tribute Boys it is to be their last as well. In the morning you resolve to beg for an audience with your Tribute Master to request he consider your release from service and give you his advice. Of course he will subject you to many agonies, but they will be so much more desirable than the pain of being ignored.

Lulled by the sound of the surf on the beach, you drift into an uneasy sleep, as you try to create the best final performance ever inside your exhausted, befuddled brain. Later you dream of how it all began… You begin to tell your story in your own words, but know that nobody will ever hear them.

Chapter 2

Mishear, the Indian dancing boy, begins to tell his story

My name is Mishear, I am just one day short of seven years old, slim and dark skinned, a colour somewhere between milk and dark chocolate. Although dark, my skin is clear almost translucent. My lips are not fat but generous. When I smile my teeth flash brilliant white in my dark face. My eyes are big and brown while my straight hair is a deep glistening black. I live in a small village set in a wide plain near a broad muddy river in a single room corrugated iron shack. For most of the year it is very dry and the dust blows off the village street and the small fields and settles everywhere. Then for a short period it rains, the river rises and sometimes overflows and the fields and the village street becomes a sea of mud. It is always very hot.

Once when I was five the rains did not come and we were very hungry. My belly did not swell and my knees and my legs and arms did not grow as thin as sticks with my elbows and knees great ugly knobs. That happened to my three younger brothers and my little sister who died. My father told my mother that I must not starve what ever else happened. He said I was their future and must be fed.

There is a school but it is far away in another village and my father cannot afford to send me there. He has not the money and he needs me to help him work the few small fields that he rents. No one in our family can read or write.

My younger brothers are four and nearly six. My father says it is time for the older one, Bahji, to start helping him in the fields. I am glad about this. It means I will have to work less hard, and have somebody to play with between labour. I cannot understand why my mother cries.

On my birthday I woke early. I did not expect a present for we are too poor for that but my mother always tried to provide me with the same treat, a dish of mango with sweetened condensed milk. She had it waiting for me and I took it from her and smiled at her but still she cried and her eyes were red and my father too looked unhappy.

When I had finished the treat and thanked my mother, my father called me to him. He took me on his knee and holding me tight told me that he was offering me as a Tribute Boy. He explained that only from the money that he would receive for me would the future of the family be assured.

As he explained this to me, he wept and I turned my face to him and buried it in his threadbare shirt and cried. I cried because I was leaving my father and mother and brothers whom I loved and who loved me and I cried for fear.

Ours was a small village and not many boys had been taken from it as Tribute but enough for me to know what was about to be done to me.

I remembered a year ago at this time the excitement when the Recording Officer's land rover had rattled into the village. How we stood around and watched while his assistant had lit the charcoal brazier and taken the polished branding bench and irons from the back of the van. Then the excitement as little Vikki was lead into the village square by his father. Naked, crying and clutching in his free a hand a tiny bundle of possessions. How Vikki had stood there as they burnt his possessions as the tears caused down his face and how he had screamed when they had bent his naked body over the bench and applied the glowing iron to his bare rump. The sickly smell of burning boys flesh drowned in the stench of shit and pee as Vikki lost control of himself. How we had clapped and cheered as the recording officer handed Vikki's father the small bag of gold as the boy lay whimpering in his own filth in the dust. Now I was to experience this.

My father removed my loin cloth. My mother bundled my few possessions in it and gave it to me to carry. Then my father took me by the hand and lead me out into the village street. Naked I walked beside him towards the square where the villagers stood about. As we approached the people turned and watched and then parted to let us through.

I saw the recording officer standing there in front of me, a big fat man dressed in a suit and beside him his assistant also big but not at all fat, wearing a striped dhoti. Beside them was the brazier the branding iron buried in the glowing charcoal and the bench. I checked but my father holding me by the hand drew me firmly on. Now I stood in front of the officer. My small bundle was taken from me and thrown on the brazier, the flames flickered upwards for a moment and it was destroyed and with it my past. The officer spoke to my father. In my terror I could not make out what was said and then I was gripped and forced down over the bench. The pain tore through me. For a moment I thought I was going to choke to death as the agony paralysed my body and then through the darkness I heard myself screaming shrilly.

I do not know how long I lay there in the dust and my own filth. When the assistant hauled me to my feet the square was deserted except for the Land Rover and the recorder. The latter looked at me wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"Why can't the little brutes exercise some self control," he grumbled. "Put him in the back him in the back of the van on some sacks I don't want to smell his filth."

Lying in the back of the van as it jolted along the unsurfaced road towards the nearest town I cried quietly to myself partly from the pain from where the branding iron had incised it's cruel mark into my flesh and partly for the family from which I had been dragged. The brand on my bottom and the iron ring about my neck a constant reminder to me that I was now and would be for as long as I lived a Tribute Boy.

In fact it was not long before the van drew to a stop. Out side it I could hear the recording officer and his assistant talking.

"We'll stop here now," the officer said. "We are not expected to return to the main collecting point until midday tomorrow so we have plenty of time."

"Shall I put the boy somewhere."

"Don't bother. There's no where for him to go now and he won't be in any fit state to eat until tomorrow morning. It takes them that long to recover from a branding."

They moved away still talking quietly together.

For all my pain sleep came quite quickly. When I woke it was dark. I pulled myself to the back of the van. A near full moon in a cloudless sky cast a silver light over the surrounding countryside. Off to one side a low building loomed, lights glowing in it's windows, and a sound of talking and laughter and music came from it. No doubt that was where the two men were. Behind the van stretched the dirt road back to the village and my father and mother, brothers.

I know now what I did then was wicked. A betrayal of my father and an act of ingratitude to him. But I was only seven and the longing for my family and the village was strong in my heart. I eased my self over the back of the Land Rover and stood on the dirt road feeling the cool night air against my bare skin. For a moment I wondered in which direction to go but then I saw the van stood at a T junction to the left and right ran a metalled road ahead of me was the dirt track. I began to walk along it. Dawn was breaking when I arrived back at the village, tired and foot sore. My father woke as I slipped into the shack. He got up quickly but he did not cuddle me. Instead he took me roughly by the arm and taking from the corner where it was kept the broken broom handle which he used to correct us children when we had transgressed began to beat me. My mother woken by my screams sat up and began to cry but she did not intervene or plead on my behalf as she usually did when my father thrashed us. My two brothers watched with big round scared eyes. At last my father stopped panting and I fell sobbing to the floor at his feet.

"You are no longer mine," he said speaking quietly but clearly. "I have sold you and you have dishonoured me with your behaviour. You will come with me now and you will return to the officer and you will beg his pardon and ask him take you back. As you cannot be trusted I will have to bind you."

"Up," he ordered and hit me again with the rod.

I scrambled to my feet and roughly bound my wrists together in front of my body. Then taking hold of the loose end of the cord he lead me from the hut and mounting his bicycle set off down the track towards the metalled road with me trotting behind.

I was already exhausted from my night walk. Now the day was getting hotter and soon my bruised and aching body was covered with dust and sweat as I stumbled along behind my father's bike.

Suddenly around a corner of the track the land rover appeared trailing behind it a cloud of dust. It skidded to a halt by my father. I dropped to my knees on the road panting for breath as the flies swarmed round me.

I was kicked sharply in the bottom. I looked up my father was standing with the officer and his assistant.

"Well," the officer said, "it looks as though this one will take some breaking."

Chapter 3

Where we introduce the Franchise Holder or Tribute Master Don Carlos del Ezzaro

There are others who will tell their story of the new world order and how it affects their lives. Don Carlos, or so the local village refer to him in spite of his English origins, goes for his morning ride around the Hacienda de los Niños Tributos del Ezzaro on the Galician coast of Spain. There are many hectares of rough mountainous land, cliffs, a long beach and a smaller private beach, and also the mouth of a small river, further up its ravine is dammed to provide hydroelectric power, above that is a lake and a hunting loge. There is only one road connecting the Hacienda to the nearest large town, Muros, some 30 km. away. There is some cultivated land for crops, as well as groves of olive, cork oak and almond. Behind the long beach is a pine forest among which are dotted the small wooden bungalows and other facilities for visitors to the hacienda. Behind the smaller beach is the main house, large and traditional on three sides of a courtyard, behind it is the stable yard. There a track up to the Stock Yard and Games Complex.

There is no need of a security fence to keep the stock in, the vast majority would not dream of leaving, having seen the consequences. In this summer season it is hot and dry here, but winters bring much rain and storms, turning everything to mud, the stock struggling bemired to fulfil their tasks adds to their desirability for some clients.

His father had thought of a place further South but here there are also possibilities of exciting winter sports, and Spain with its long tradition of rearing stock for performance, of blood, of implicit sexuality and sand just had to be the first choice. Now he also has to consider his own son, and maybe heir Christopher.

Don Carlos Speaks

I am Don Carlos, I leave my cool stone flagged private quarters and walk across the shade of the veranda, into the courtyard already hot in early morning sun. The Tribute Boy who is allocated as my personal outdoor attendant for this week stands erect and still holding the horse to await my pleasure, my loins stir as I see him drop to his knees in fear, head in the dust. His copper body gleaming under its coating of scented almond oil. I can not immediately remember his name but he looks about nine or ten years of age so I must have acquired him in the Amerindian bidding a couple of years ago. I thrill at the power we free citizens have over such as him and his kind, but work before pleasure.

I must mount and ride round the estate, the boy jogging along at the stirrup to await anything I might require of him. He begins to pant a little, exhaustion is good training. We enter the heavy wooden gates, both are rather damaged where it has been expedient to drive spikes into them from time to time, and ride under the arch and into the Stock Yard. I note the neat sties of the Tribute Boys along, three boys to each. These run along three sides of the compound and accommodate up 180 boys from the age of Tribute, just seven years to age of Release around fourteen years. They are much better than their namesake, providing just a little better than the minimum required in facilities, just a sleeping platform, a box for possessions, and in the winter clean straw, a slop bucket and a water trough, oh and of course the required security camera and restraints. The boys not working in other parts of the estate are now busy at lessons or training sessions, each small group of around twenty boys under a Tutor. They report to me as I require and we plan the maximum utilisation of each boy in their charge.

I rein in near one of the open sided teaching area that fronts the large Games Complex on the fourth side. The boy at my side flops exhausted in the dust, now streaming with sweat and crawls towards the water trough and laps greedily, shall I punish him for this? My thoughts are interrupted by watching the Tutor explain to twenty odd little boys, they must be the eleven and twelve year olds, squatting on their haunches, the principles of electricity. As is my policy they are of many different races and crosses. Our clients here appreciate a varied diet. The Tutor asks for volunteers to give a practical demonstration, all hands shoot up with squeals of "Me! Me! Please Sir Me!"

My Tutor Señor Anthony, a young man just starting on his career, obviously loves his work as he walks among the bouncing little tykes, tousling a head here and there. I smile indulgently. He selects a Japanese, I do recall his name is Chueng, he has hair cut straight at mid neck, almond eyes, and delicate cream skin. He jumps up with a clap and follows his Tutor to the demonstration bench and climbs on it to lie spread-eagled unbidden. I savour the smooth defined little form with a growing lust. The tutor clips the prepared metal straps round ankles and wrists restraining him and inserts contacts into the boys penis slit and anus, his moans of discomfort turn to sharp cries as the nipple clamps are applied, he twists in his restraints as the Tutor explains contacts and conductivity and power source. This is demonstrated and the boy screams, his body lifting rigid, straining against his bonds and pretty head thrashing from side to side, as the increasing doses of current course through his vulnerable young body.

As we ride away I notice that that Señor Anthony is erect as are many of his class, satisfyingly so is little Chueng. I wonder if he could produce something really special by way of performance? Perhaps a wager with my Aunt? My boy trots, now revived a little, at the stirrup.

We get out into open country, we have been asked to lay on some hunting for a party of Germans later in the season. I calculate just how many quarry will satisfy them, and the number of beaters we will need to recruit. We approach the edge of the woods to observe the work party of twelve and thirteen year olds collecting timber against the winter. Two are labouring with a two handled saw, their muscles straining beneath smooth skin. The rest are suitably harnessed drag the cut logs down to the track for collection. The logs are heavy and they grunt on all fours straining against their waist harnesses to move them, feet and hands scrabbling on the rough ground, chains leading between straining thighs.

This work project was suggested by one of our more experienced Tutors, Señor Maurice, and I greet him as I dismount. I hand the boy the reins, and he drops gratefully to his haunches. I note the boy Mishear in this group, along with his two younger sty mates, Vaas and Jan. The Russian boy platinum and the English boy gold. Jan, I will never ever forget how he came to us after his ninth birthday, and how enjoyable had been his breaking! He was called to served yet again our regular clients, last night, strange that they want only him, never one of the others. Now his golden tan body is marked all over with the red weals of the lash though the skin is not broken, he staggers a little as he climbs up past me and I notice fresh blood on the inside of his thighs, and from small wounds in his nipples. No wonder our clients were so happy over breakfast, the woman seemed especially satisfied.

My thoughts return to Mishear and my schemes for him. I am particularly attracted to his racial type and this goes back to the days as a young student when on Voluntary Service in his country as a trainer of Recording Officers. At that time nobody in the West had fully appreciated the range of services that might be both profitable and enjoyable from this new resource. Neither had I fully appreciated the depths of my need to dominate and control young boys though an English Public School education had given a certain amount of practice. All that changed when staying at Umur Patel's carpet factory.

The gift of the carpet was a handsome gesture, the suggestion that it might be used in a practical fashion at first I did not understood. The introduction to two kohl eyed eleven year old beauties, naked except for the small knife on a thong round their necks, dispelled any ambiguity.

"Sahib may choose the boy he wishes to christen the carpet, but it might be more exciting if he was to give his favour to the winner of a contest between the two."

I immediately began to stiffen at the thought. The boys eyed each other with hatred and at my signal fought long and hard and bloodily until the weaker was hauled away grievously wounded. I raped and tortured the bloody victor into unconsciousness on that carpet, and it is still a much treasured possession. Afterwards I realised the potential of such an experience, though of course Father had already worked it out many years before. Umur proved a good teacher and on my return to Europe my father advised me to create one of the first European Leisure Franchises on this land, that he had bought all those years before.

Mishear reminds me of that first boy, something about the light in those black eyes, as he respectively approaches you, seizes my hand kisses it and touches it with his forehead, "Long Life to You Beloved Master!" before dropping to his knees in at my feet in the dirt, with his thighs spread painfully wide I can not help but notice, with pleasure, he is equally painfully erect.

"And May Your Death bring Honour! You may speak boy!"

"Please sir I wish to discuss the termination of my service."

"Very well come suitably prepared to my office at dusk after you have finished, I will send full instructions."

"Thank you Master, I only live and die to please you!" and he goes back to work.

He is still too young for this decision but I became interested in his potential as a performer in the ritual of final release rather earlier than usual. I smile with satisfaction at the success of the strategy of waiting until he was producing his first full orgasms, then making sure that no client used him and so they had been denied him for three months now, the loss would leave him only two possible choices, both fatal, as well as being most entertaining and profitable. There is no harm in having a foretaste of what the boy can do this evening when he presents himself to me. Perhaps he should bring his friend Jan with him to dance for me? I smile at the thought and mount to ride off back to the house. The copper coloured boy, Sky, that's the name, is now exhausted to the point of collapse, struggles to keep up, then trails far behind, of course I do not slacken the horses pace.

Watching him being beaten by Hassan for this failure, will be most diverting, as his breaking and schooling are now entering their final phase, perhaps as I take a leisurely glass of sherry before the siesta…?

***

Mishear, relieved now the momentous decision has been made, drags his final load before feeding and the boy's siesta in the noon heat. His belly less empty he rests under a tree, his blond sty mate Jan, aching and sick, curls next to him. Mishear carries on with telling his story inside his head… The blond boy also remembers through his pain his own story…

Chapter 4

The Tribute boy Jan introduces himself

My name is Jan, I remember how I became a Tribute Boy…

My name is Jan, I am seven years old today, I have very blond hair, short with a long plaited tail at the back. My eyes are blue most of the time but sometimes people think they are green. My skin is pale at this time of the year, at the moment there is snow on the ground, in the summer when mummy and I go on holiday I quickly go a darker golden colour. We live in a part of the city where my mummy says the good people live, and we must be carefully not to let the poor people take away what is ours. We know there is only one law however and I wear the same small loincloth as do the poor boys. My mummy says it was made the law because at first the poor boys could not stand the cold when they were made to work.

Yesterday she came to my school and was given my Assessment, a straight 'A'. My Mummy is very pleased and the Teacher praises me. Last week one of the poor boys in my class had to stand up and get his, also 'A'. His father was there to hear and looked very strange, the boy sobbed. Teacher had the boy stand up in front of the class and gave us the boring old talk about Tribute Boys and their Duties. So we all knew what was going to happen to him!

My loincloth today is of fine leather, I have a broad leather belt too with a pouch for my personal computer, on my feet are leather sandals and long woollen socks, around my shoulders is a fur cape. My mummy says that it is important that we show how rich we are today as we have to go to the Recording Officer same as the Poor Boys who will now have to work and not be a drain on hardworking people like my mummy.

My little brother Justin is only four, so he does not come with us. We take a taxi to the old football stadium which has been turned into the place for the Recording Officers to work. Outside there are queues of naked boys, shivering and blue in the snow, most my age, but some look bigger. They look strange with their heads shaved, only their skin colour tells you what ethnic variety they are now. At another entrance I see a queue of girls, but you can only tell because they have no cocks.

My mummy says that is what happens when people don't want to work and only want to breed useless brats and bitches to be a drain on society. And we go into the other entrance where people like us go. The Recording Officer is a kindly man who ruffles my hair and gives me a sweet as he charges my Tribute up to mummy's credit card. When she isn't looking he runs his hand down my hip and thigh, it feels scary and good at the same time, he says quietly to his assistant, "What a pity this one isn't in the other group, he'd be worth is weight in gold, and straight 'A' Assessment too!"

They smile at me and I smile back. When we have finished mummy takes me into the best seats in the stadium, and we watch the row of poor boys one at a time having the hot thing pressed against their bottom. How they scream and wriggle, some even go to the toilet then fall into it. Mummy says "Disgusting little beasts!" and we leave.

It is one year later and I go again. Mummy seems to be angry with me all the time, only have time for Roger, he is not my real father, and my little brother. She keeps saying things about he is Justin's real daddy. Now I am bigger I wear shorts. Again a couple of days before my birthday Mummy came to school and was given my Assessment, this time she looked very pleased but not with me. Justin is with us this time. It is the same scene as before, now we stay longer and Mummy seems to be thinking about something. I find the little boys antics amusing and it makes my little cock stand up, especially when I see the little boys shooting pee everywhere. I look at Justin his little cock is hard too, it nearly pushes out the side of his loin cloth.

Tomorrow I will be nine years old, time for my yearly Assessment and Tribute again, I have grown a lot in the last year. On holiday mummy and Uncle Roger took me to see some races between eleven year old Tribute Boys, they had lots of obstacles to get over and a fast river to get across. Uncle Roger said that the Leisure Park had a course in the country built specially, and in season boys were sent from all over to compete. The boys were screaming and pushing each other to be first. Several got hurt and had to be pulled away crying, it was such good fun, almost as good as Tribute Day. But the best bit was at the end when the ones left in the race had to climb a cliff face to finish at the top. One boy with short brown hair and very brown skin was second, nearly at the top he slipped and ended up hanging by one arm. His feet scrabbled madly but he could not get back his hold and he started screaming and peeing like mad. My cock got really hard with excitement and you could see the holo cameras focussing in on him rather than the first boy that had reached the top. They followed him down as he fell still screaming, to thud into the ground at the base of the cliff. He lay there moaning and twitching slightly, there was a lot of blood and his legs stuck out in a funny way. Everybody clapped and cheered, but soon ignored him when he lay still.

Now everybody was at the top congratulating the finishing boys. People were bidding to take them home for the night after dinner, mummy and Uncle were lucky and got the boy who was first. After the big dinner of roast meat, we do not have that very often, they took the boy into their room and I was told to go to bed with Justin and stay there. I did not understand what was happening then but in the morning he was lying on his back on the grass outside my room, and seemed to be hurt and bleeding more than he had at the end of the race. I sneaked out to have a closer look and he stared back at me but said nothing, his cock and balls are much bigger than mine. Fascinated I touched them, and he groaned in pain. But his cock got very hard, and so much bigger than mine, so I rubbed it up and down. Then somebody came and carried him away…

Mummy and Uncle were very happy that day.

That night I lay naked on the bed next to Justin, and tried the same with his, and he got all big again. Uncle Roger came to my room, he ran his hands over my body like the Recording Officer had, it made me feel all tingly, much better than when I did this to myself and my little cock got harder as he rubbed it. I don't understand what he said about "having plans for you, you desirable little whore."

While I think about this mummy and Uncle are shouting at each other, it seems to be about me and how I am the brat of my no good father. Justin seems to be smirking about something

In the morning I wake up looking forward to my Birthday treats, again my Assessment was straight 'A', but why did Teacher have me stand in front of the class for the Tribute Boy lecture? And why did I a Free Boy have to repeat after him, "I swear to honour and obey of my own free will." I did not understand then what the words meant. And why did I sleep so quickly last night after that funny drink Mummy gave me?

I am very pleased to be going to see the poor boys being branded. Mummy comes in looking angry with me again. I don't understand as she tells me to pack all my shorts and other cloths into a bag. I start to cry and she hits saying "you are an ungrateful little brat after all I've sacrificed for you. You are just like your father, you are going to the right place for feckless no goods."

She hauls me out of bed, I sleep naked like all small boys, and to my horror I catch the reflection of a strange boy in my mirror! I put my hands to my head and the fear begins to churn by belly, all my fine blond hair has been shaved off! She shoves my bag into my hand and marches me out into the street. I am so cold and so ashamed to be being dragged naked through the snow. I am not stupid and I know what will happen to me and I am very frightened. We get to the football stadium and we join the line of poor boys, they all seem to have friends to comfort them. My mother is allowed to go to the front of the queue, the poor people seem embarrassed by her.

When we get to the bench it is the same Recording Officer as I met first, now he is not friendly to me but respectful to mother as he punches credits into her card.

In an instant she is gone, I am alone and the Recording Officer grabs me and forces me over the bench with one hand whilst the other explores my vulnerable body. I feel with horror the warm wetness of my piss between my thighs and the smooth wood. I see his assistant throw my bag of clothes on the brazier and pull out the brand.

"Well everything come to him who waits," and it was struck home on my naked rump. Indescribable agony engulfs me, until I black out. When I come too I lie in the grass in the accumulated filth of the boys in front of me and there is an stainless steel collar round my neck.

"Well," said the Recording Officer, "breaking such a beautiful little snooty bastard like this will be rewarding, the fat cats are always take longer. I wonder what the poor little sod did that his Bitch mother would Tribute him?"

He takes out his personal computer and dictates a mail, "Charles, bid for 14/11/24/142, this district, third Tribute, unwanted by rich bitch, classic blond. You owe me one tell me when I take leave for the breaking…" But I faint again before he finishes…

***

When I awoke Mishear was shaking me gently and all the pain of last night flooded back, but guiltily I remembered the pleasure as well… "Jan, Jan, Wake up its time to work again, Do you think you will be well enough to help me prepare to talk to Master after work?"

"I will help you as much as I can," I manage to say.

Chapter 5

Mishear continues his story

The air shimmered in the midday heat. The crickets murmured noisily all around. Jan lying exhausted beside me half asleep whimpered occasionally as half awake he remembered what? The labours and agonies of the previous night or the long years of cruelty he like me had endured as a Tribute Boy.

I knew we looked a striking sight together one blonde haired and golden skinned, the other with dark brown skin and jet black hair both with the strong slim bodies of well trained boy athletes. Our bodies, marzipan and dark chocolate respectively, both marred with stripes of cochineal where the overseer had used his strap to exact extra effort from us that morning. Indeed it was because of the contrast I used to think that we were stabled together and often paired when it came to entertaining our Masters clients. Many times we had lain naked together in some rich man's bed ready to devote our bodies to satisfying his desires, competing for the honour of receiving his seed, our nimble eager tongues meeting as we worked to rouse his lust to new peaks.

But not recently. Not since that time now so long ago when in an ecstasy of pain and sexual stimulation some dam deep inside me seemed to break and for a few seconds of untold bliss I achieved escape from the horrors of a Tribute Boy's lot. Since then the Master's clients had chosen only Jan. Tired as I was my cock stood ached and throbbed as I remembered those times when I, sometimes with Jan and sometimes without, had been selected to serve.

I couldn't understand why Jan was favoured now and I was not. I used to be chosen as often as him if not more so. I had often received better gifts than him. Not that he wasn't good both as a whore and an athlete. I had watched him often on the single bar doing hand stands and back flips, his oiled and naked body gleaming in the glow from the burning coals in the pit below him, while the guests lolling at their ease glasses in their hands applauded and shouted. I had performed there with him too, together, knowing a single slip or misjudgement would send one or both of us tumbling into the hot coals. I had been present once when that happen once to another boy. His screams and the laughter and cheers of the audience as they enjoyed his death agony lived still in my memory

But still Jan might whimper and feel sore after spending the night with one of our masters clients but I envied him. I envied him for the chance he had had of experiencing those seconds of ecstatic pulsing release and I envied him too for the added credits that he would have gained to his fund. Not that this was important to him. His mother who would benefit was already rich and Jan felt none of the obligation which I had learnt gratitude and love imposed on me to provide for my parents future from the earnings of my body.

Mind you that was a hard lesson for me to learn and I needed many painful years of schooling before I fully accepted my fate. My mind went back to that time the morning after my seventh birthday when I knelt in the dust of the road tired and thirsty and hungry while my father spoke earnestly to the recording officer.

"I beat him soundly as soon as I found him and brought him straight back to you Sir," My father's voice was frightened and pleading. He sounded more nervous and respectful even than when he spoke to the Landlord.

"And so you should have," the officer spoke coldly. "Else you would have been a thief and you know what the penalty for theft is under the law?"

My father bowed his head but did not speak.

"As it is," the officer continued, "There is but one thief and that is the boy and he must bear the penalty."

"But I have brought him back to you and beaten him," my father protested humbly.

"The fact that a thief has been caught makes him no less of a thief and does not exempt him from punishment as a thief. It would be a strange doctrine that said that only thieves that were not caught should be punished." The officer laughed grimly.

"Get the axe and the bench from the car," he continued speaking to his assistant.

"The bench will do as well for lopping as branding," he went on speaking again to my father, "And you will have to bring me your next son to replace this one. He will be no use to me without his right hand."

"But Lord," my Father wailed falling to his knees, "if you take my next son there will be no one to help me on the fields. My youngest son is but three and can do nothing. I cannot work the fields by myself. We will all starve."

"You should not have fathered a thief," the officer said indifferently. Then speaking to his assistant, "bring the brat here and put his wrists across the bench. Do not bother to untie them. He has thin boy's wrists I can sever them both at a blow and one hand or no hands he'll starve in the end and his whole family with him."

The assistant caught hold of the cord binding my wrists and tugged me across to the bench. I thought of my mother, my father and my brothers all ruined because of my sin and cried. The Officer raised his axe above his shoulder.

"Master," I cried desperately, " I cannot serve without my hands – please Master let me serve."

The Officer paused.

"You cannot leave a thief unchastised," protested his assistant.

"He will be chastised that I promise you," The officer said grimly. Load him into the back of the Land Rover and keep his hands bound. We do not want him to try to escape again."

"Oh Lord, thank you Lord." My father cried lifting his hands as knelt on the road. "You are truly merciful. My wife and family pray blessings on you and all you possess."

As the Land Rover drove off I could see my father still kneeling his hand extended crying blessing on his benefactors head. That was the last time I saw my father.

We came to a town. It seemed to me then to be very large. I had never seen such tall buildings or so many people but then I was used only to our village where there was no more than a dozen shacks and no building over a single story in height. There was a big square full of people and on one side of it a long wall with heavy gates set in it. We drove through the gates and we were in a large high walled compound. I was pulled out of the van. A number of boys about my age sat or lay huddled in the shade. They did not run around and shout like boys did in my village. The Recording Officer lead me to a a lean to shed in one corner of the yard. There was a table and behind the table a thin man wearing a much smarter suite than the recording officer.

The man behind the desk looked up impatiently.

"Another brat," he said in a bored voice. "Give me his docket then and I'll register him."

Then he looked at me a little harder and asked, "Why are his hands bound?" Suddenly he sounded more interested.

"He tried to run away Sir," the Recording Officer said producing a slip of paper and putting it on the table in front of the man.

"Run away did he?" The man stood up and came round his desk. He stood in front of me looking at me closely. The he walked slowly round me looking me up and down as I stood still under his inspection.

"Quite nicely proportioned for his age." he remarked quietly.

Then he ran his hand up the back of my thigh and squeezed my bottom. Nobody had done that before to me and I was surprised. For a moment I was frightened but the feel of his hand stroking my bare bum was quite pleasant and I relaxed. He laughed and slapped me firmly on my bottom.

"A promising lad," he said returned to his desk and made an entry in a big ledger and also noted something on the paper the recording officer had handed him.

"But a runaway. We can't have that. A whipping and then two hours of repentance.

Two men ceased me and marched me out of the compound. I was dragged through the crowd onto a platform in the middle of the square. People crowded round to watch and there was laughter and clapping. My hands were tied to a post above my head and then one of the men whipped me. It was only a light whip I know now suitable for the correction of a seven year old. Not heavy enough to cripple or to mark permanently, unless wielded by an inexperienced man and the man who whipped me was not that, but it hurt. I howled and leapt under the lash as the crowd stood round and enjoyed the spectacle. I was given a moment to rest and then my hands were released and I was made to stand on a chair on the platform holding a notice over my head. I could not read so I did not know what it said but one of the crowd kindly shouted it out so that I would know. "I am a thief."

I do not know how long I was made to stand there in the hot sun with the crowd passing by and staring and shouting insults but it seemed a lifetime. My back bottom and shoulders burnt from the lash, the sun blazed down and I was faint from thirst and hunger. My arms ached from holding the notice over my head but if I showed any sign of trying lower it the man standing on the platform beside me lashed me across my bare legs with the lash.

***

I wept. I could feel the tears running down my face and then I realised I was lying on the ground beside Jan and I was remembering times long past and that soon we would have to return to work and after that I had to see my Master and needed to prepare my self for that I shook Jan gently to rouse him.

Chapter 6a

Don Carlos the Tribute Master Speaks

Back at the house I dismount, and wait a few impatient moments for the boy to arrive, when he does I note with satisfaction his exhausted state smeared with dust and sweat, one knee bleeding where he has tripped and fallen.

I toss him the reins, "You are not to drink without permission and I do not expect to be kept waiting, tell the groom to bring you back for punishment in your present state after you have attended to the horse."

"Yes master" and he trots away, do I notice some sparks of residual defiance there? they are so good to snuff out when there are.

Inside the cool of the stone house I am met by my house boy for this week, as he is one of this seasons new stock, only a few months into Tribute, he is very nervous of me, I look at him hard trying to see if this will make him loose control of his bladder again, he struggles and succeeds in retaining his urine, his little hand gripping his penis to make sure. I do not like them pissing in the house and he seems to be learning.

His name his Pedro, and he comes from a small holding near the village. I do not usually take them that close but his father Juan had been the first boy I had schooled that had proved himself worthy of Release. His Release under Tribute Law was conditional on him providing his first and second sons as replacements. I find to school a boy so that he has so much love for me that he can endure against all odds so as to be awarded his release, a deeply satisfying achievement. Indeed its is my aim for all my boys to attain this though only a few are capable of using the chances and training they are given. I find some clients like authentic local blood so I aim to keep a few little Latinos like him.

Obediently he follows me to the bathing area. Being quite small he has to use a stool to remove my waistcoat, then on his knees to remove boots. He stands and unbuckles my belt, with its tooled pouch for my computer, and slides my leather riding chaps down my legs. All my cloths for work are of fine leather, for I am wealthy as well as having a supply when needed. He trots out with them to keep them dry to be cleaned latter. I regard my mature, even ageing naked body it the full length mirrors, comparing my size and hairiness with his slight brown form as he returns and kneels at my feet to await my command to bath me with the warm scented water he has prepared. This he does with new found confidence, taking special care with the parts that have been in contact with the saddle, I harden but I will not use him today as I have other plans. I speculate the advantages of training him or marketing his virginity… He dries me carefully, I dry my hands in his dark mop of hair tousling it, and then dresses me in a silk sarong. I dismiss him with a squeeze to the testicles that makes him rise on his toes and squeal.

On the shaped veranda my sherry and a few 'tapas' await me. The domestic staff in the house and stables are all between fourteen and twenty one years. The nice thing about using teenagers after their gelding and sale at fourteen is that the fear of the alternative of stock rearing pens adds to their natural docility. I also require that they stay as invisible as possible. Seated I clap my hands and quickly the groom appears, he is not a mere servant but a trusted member of staff and leads my small security team. He came originally from Senegal, is very big and very black, and prefers to speak French, his name is Hassan. The boy follows him holding a basket with some implements for me to choose.

"Name boy!"

"Sky, third year of Tribute, Master"

He has been crying and the tears add to his deshevelment.

"You know why, your punishment is twelve strokes and 24 hours at the post."

"Please Master I tried, just beat me."

Defiance again, nice! I just motion to Hassan he pulls the boy over and skilfully clips the slim steel ring around Sky's testicles, he has selected just the right size to give maximum discomfort without permanent damage. He pulls hard on the chain and the boy give his first cry as he is led to the post. I designed this with great thought. It is of polished wood in the middle of my court yard, on it there is a loose ring. It is surrounded by a circle of carefully raked sand, then by a series of pools and fountains, behind them the lush vegetation of the courtyard. Hassan padlocks the boys chain to the ring, Hassan has of course carefully measured so that no matter how hard the boy pulls on his leash he will only be able to touch the water not drink it. Hassan returns to sit beside me and we chat over old times and the merits of various techniques.

I tell him that I am well pleased with his service again this year, I ask if the usual bonus is acceptable. He tells me that another 'blanc' sixth or seventh year of Tribute would be great. I wonder if he can make his bonus last longer this time, I will need to buy in a strong one. The boy Sky is beginning to suffer from heat and thirst begins to strain towards the water, pulling his testicles away from his body and grunting with pain. I tell Hassan I have finished my lunch and he may begin.

For punishment of young stock it is necessary to use only a light whip, unless you want to take things further. Hassan cracks the whip at Sky and the lad jumps to his feet and backs away. The first stroke wraps round the boys copper thighs and he screams, the next across buttocks, but the tip catching the small penis draws blood. Hassan's remaining ten strokes, his black muscular body splendid and aroused, drives the increasingly bloody and frantically screaming small Amerindian boy dancing round and round the post. Hassan is an expert and the wounds will soon heal without a mark. Not so the marks on the boy's soul as he falls whimpering in the sand after the twelfth stroke across his smooth chest. But soon I feel he will be ready to truly love and serve even unto death. Love is so much more effective that fear to get the very best out of a boy!

Hassan leaves with my thanks and before I sleep I rehearse in my mind some interesting possibilities for Mishear's fate, I wonder if I could in some way link it to the blond boy? That young Jan that look so much breaking, they seem very friendly, but maybe twelve years with only three years of training is too young for a successful performance? With the better feeding of a wealthy infant he is almost identical in size to the dark boy. I will talk with my guests who used him last night and gauge his ability, I can not test him myself as they have retained him for the remaining days of their holiday.

***

Meanwhile back at the sties Mishear is being helped to prepare for his ordeal by Jan. He has received his instructions…

Chapter 6b

Later that day Don Carlos continues

I awoke feeling the familiar pressures in my groin, but must restrain my need for relief. I note with pleasure that Pedro is kneeling at my feet, good posture, thighs spread wide displaying the tendons in the groin, buttocks trust firmly into heels, back straight, hands behind neck, and eyes down cast. He awaits any demand I may make of him.

I briefly remember the horror of being his age, the pain and degradation, all in the hypocrisy of education, but a Tribute Boy can not experience such fine misery because of his station in life, and I dismiss the thought to reflect on the prospects for the rest of the day. But first I really need a piss. I clap my hands and indicate the fine porcelain bowl, Pedro scuttles off to collect it. I spread my thighs and sink lower in the couch, pulling up my sarong as I do so. The boy is getting better in his duties, no hesitation now as he directs my erect member to jet into the bowl, no shrinking now from the inevitable splashes on his face and body, nor from cleaning me with his tongue after I am done, I fondle his ears as he does so. Perhaps by the end of the week I will dispense with the bowl? Still erect, the thought of relieving my other need in his tight warm throat crosses my mind, but there will be other times for that. I clap my hands again and he smiles at me and withdraws to empty the bowl and clean himself.

I glance at Sky, surprisingly the boy is still conscious despite the heat, he has not drunk now for over seven hours. If I gave him my piss he would drink it, but I always believe in both the carrot and the stick, my Tribute Boys must love me as well as fear me, only that way will they be able to make the sacrifices required of them when their time comes. I walk over to him with the finger bowl left over from luncheon, gently raise his drooping head, and put it to his parched lips. He slurps greedily as I stroke his raven hair and smooth neck. When the bowl is empty he starts crying, and clasps my feet, kissing them.

"Thank you Master, I love you, I will try so hard to please you tomorrow."

I lift him to his feet and gaze into the dark eyes, no defiance there now, and I kiss him on the lips, he opens his mouth to let my tongue penetrate him. He slumps back on the ground when I release him. Maybe later tonight I will assay the depths of his first statement of love. But now back to work, I have much to do before I permit Mishear to entertain me.

***

Back at his desk Don Carlos dictates instructions to his secretary, once a Tribute Boy, now a sexless youth of sixteen, his body devoid of hair and head shaven. His nakedness is total saving only a fine silver collar, and reveals that neither penis nor testicles remain. The youth deftly enters Don Carlos's instructions into the computer.

That will be all.p> The evening is getting cooler now and he walks down to the beach drawn by the excited squeals. There are at least twenty Tribute Boys here enjoying their free time after work and training. He delights in the contrasting shades of their gleaming bodies, all shapes and ages. As he swims they show no fear and he teases some. He is gratified by this, to preserve their high spirits requires fine individual judgement in the depth of breaking required. The depths of degradation and servitude demanded of them are set in fine relief by their generous periods of freedom, and health and resilience are all important. On the top of the beach are a number of wind surfers for the boys use though none are tonight, the wind being light, many boys have come to the beach on bicycles and they are scattered in boyish untidy heaps. But everything in this place has alternative uses.

To the end of the beach are the guest chalets, each isolated and private. Guests are strictly isolated from the main part of the hacienda, unless having booked the Games Complex adjacent to the sties, this is the venue for the seekers of special pleasures. For those requiring more orthodox delights there are no limits to where they can be entertained, by a Tribute Boy, in the Leisure Park Complex.

There are a number of male guests on the beach, though women are increasingly attracted to formerly male sports, they relax and chat, served with drinks by the evenings serving boys. They scan the delights before them, enjoying, as does Don Carlos's, the boys antics. They and he know the only limit on what they might plan to do about their fantasies is the extent of their credit.

Chapter 6c

A letter dictated by Don Carlos to the Indian dancing boy Mishear

It is delivered to Mishear at 1700 hrs, after he has finished work by the gelded youth who is Don Carlos's secretary, and who had written it. He has no name only Secretary. As always he has extended or anticipated his masters words. He hates all the smaller boys who are whole, Mishear sees his mutilated pubis and dreads that option. Mishear has all the facilities of the game complex to draw on in his preparation, performing 'cloths', instruments of torture, warm water and perfumed oils. His long hair needs to be braided with coloured ribbons so as not to impede him. He notices he has just four hours left, time for a swim first?

His time is free after work except for ordered performances. He desperately needs time to think…

"Tribute Boy Mishear, final year of Tribute.

Your request for release from service has been granted according to the Law. You will present yourself to me in my room at 21:00 hrs this evening. You will be accompanied by Tribute Boy Jan, penultimate year of Tribute, who will be dismissed in time to go to his clients at 23:00 hrs. You will also bring Tribute Boys Inu and Itu, fourth year of Tribute, to play their drums for your performance.

You are ordered to prepare yourself, clean oiled and suitably adorned to dance and to perform for me for one hour. You are to choose three suitable instruments of torture for me to asses your worth afterwards. You may choose the nature of your performance, and how you will involve the other boys. However it pleased me to have set up the cross bars, the charcoal pit and the one metre phallus.

After your performance has finished, exactly on half time, you will mount the dais in front of my chair and kneel in the Tribute position. When I clap my hands you will beg my permission to proceed with your chosen method of Release, and beg my guidance in its successful completion. Then still kneeling lay backwards with your neck over the edge of the dais, and your arms spread wide. If you have displeased me I will now cut your throat .You will await my decision in this fashion until it pleases me.

If I choose to let you proceed to the next stage, I will then test your resolve and stamina, using the three instruments of torture of your own choice, for my own pleasure. This is to asses if you can offer something exceptional in the way of a release performance or combat.

If your choice of the means of torture is apt and your sufferings arouse me sufficiently I may require you to serve me in my bed for the rest of the night.

May you find the courage not to displease me."

Chapter 7a

After we had dried off in the sun we rose and brushing off the dry sand from our bare limbs made our way across to the bath house. As I walked beside Jan I wondered what it was that was causing him such distress, for something beyond the usual fears and frustrations of a Tribute Boy's life was bothering him. I wondered whether I should ask him perhaps I would be able to help in some way but then decided that if he chose not to confide in me it would be wrong to press him to tell me.

Inu and Itu were already in the bath house sharing a shower together. They greeted us with broad grins, their teeth flashing brilliant white in the middle of their small black faces. We ordered them out of the shower and checked them over for cleanliness, it is the responsibility of the older Tribute Boys to keep an eye on the younger, especially when they are scheduled to perform together.

Only their bottoms needed further attention. Jan and I berated them both a little. It was for their own good for Dan Carlos would have a short way with any Tribute Boy who had the impertinence to present himself to him with a soiled bum. Then Jan and I took their place in the showers. I noticed how their two small eleven year old pricks stood erect as they took it in turns to clean each other's most intimate recesses with their tongues.

My own prick too was stiff as Jan and I took it in turn to soap each others down. I did not know what was the more exciting the touch of Jan's firm hands working the soapy water over my body or the sight and feel of his smooth young flesh as I worked on him. With the tips of my index finger I gently traced the livid marks that the overseers whip had left on his golden brown skin. Standing behind him in the shower it seemed to me that they added to the attractiveness of his slim boy's body. I put a hand in the middle of his shoulder blades and pushed gently. Jan moved his legs apart and responding to the pressure of my hand bent forward. I squatted behind him and as the water streamed down his back and over my face cleaned him inside with my tongue. Then it was my turn to stand there under the shower my bottom pushed back, Jan's taste on my tongue, as he in his turn cleaned within me.

We towelled each other dry. Inu and Itu were already spreading almond oil on their, bodies which glistened a deep ebony black. As Jan worked the oil into my body I began to outline the dance routine that I had planned for our Master's entertainment. The three other boys listened intently.

At last Jan and I were ready. Both oiled and me, with my hair braided and little silver bells hanging from the rings set in my nipples, wearing silver anklets and bracelets also hung with tiny bells that jingled whenever I moved.

"You will have to choose the instruments of torture ," Jan said as he applied the finishing touches to the gilding of my nipples. It seemed to me his voice shook as he spoke.

"Yes," I said turning away from him and crossing the room to where a large open cabinet stood containing many boxes of various sizes all bound in the smoothest and finest leather. I was quite sure that the fear showed clearly in my voice.

"I … I need to show him I can stand pain but I mustn't choose anything that will mark me too badly or he might decide I am not worth using in a performance."

I reached into the cabinet and drew out a long thin leather covered box. I flipped the lid open. Inside on a bed of purple velvet were arranged a dozen slim round headed needles ranging from an inch to six inches [2½-15 cm] in length, the light glinting on them gave them a bluish sheen. They were long enough to touch the most deeply buried nerve end but so thin as to hardly leave a puncture mark behind. As I looked at them I reflected that on this occasion I had to resist the escape route for which boys under torture usually longed. If I lost consciousness too quickly Don Carlos would decide I was unworthy of further use. I had to struggle to retain awareness, to suffer for as long as I could bear it and if possible beyond.

I shuddered and reached down a second larger box. Inside it lay a long metal rod with a rubber handle at one end and at the opposite a thin pointed metal cylinder. An electric probe designed so that shocks could be delivered deep inside a boy's body as well as on the surface. "I must offer him a third," I said to Jan and took out a much smaller square box. Inside was a small circular metal clamp it's inside ringed with rubber. The clamp could be tightened by adjusting a small screw. I had seen similar clamps used on the estate to attach hose pipes to taps. The intended use for this one was very different.

"You are going to offer him that?" Jan asked a note of horror in his voice.

"Yes I heard him talking to a client about someone who long ago tortured boys in this way only he just used chord round their cocks to stop them peeing. Apparently it causes agony and he said he thought it could be made all the greater by pressing on the boy's tummy when he began to become bloated." I rubbed the back of my hands across my eyes and turned away.

"Will it have time to work?" Jan asked worried. "It's an hour he's giving you."

"While you're there Jan. I don't know what he plans to do with me when you go to your clients." As I said that I saw Jan's face become even more clouded and I realised that I had reminded him of some secret trouble.

"Anyway," I hurried on trying to cover his confusion, "I hope he'll remember I was there when he talked about it and will see I'm trying to please him. Though perhaps he won't. I don't think he notices Tribute Boys much really. And if he wants to use it quickly if he gives me lots of water it should do it and if he puts it on me at least it'll stop me peeing myself when he hurts me and you know how angry he becomes when a boy does that."

It was evening. The time had come for the performance. We set off towards Don Carlos's mansion the two little Negro boys leading tapping on their drums, my following, every movement causing the little silver bells I wore to ring softly and at the back Jan carrying slung over one shoulder a leather satchel . Fear gripped me. Every step I took the tightness in my chest and stomach increase. My legs and arms felt numb but for the next hour my life depended on the strength and agility of my body. We passed through the echoing hall and mounted the great marble staircase to the first floor. In front of us stood the double doors that lead to Don Carlos's room. Two final year Tribute Boys stood on either side of them. As we approached they threw the doors open and we could see the Master himself seated on the dais at the far end of the room. Between him and us was a great expanse of marble floor. Set in it was the charcoal pit with it's glowing red coals the air over it shimmering with the heat. Beyond this was a a further area of open floor in the centre of which a large phallus stood tall demanding and cruel.

The drums stopped beating. Inu, Itu, Jan and I, prostrated ourselves on the floor awaiting our master's commands.

There was a seconds silence and then Don Carlos spoke "Begin."

I started to my feet and as I did so he flipped the large hour glass that stood on the table by his side over. He was giving me the time for my performance.

The drums beat wildly I did a forward flip in the air without my hands touching the ground and came to rest teetering at the very edge of the charcoal pit. I could feel the heat searing my naked body. I quickly threw the two handfuls of incense that I carried onto the glowing coals. The fire flare up high and a clouds of sweetly smelling vapour rose from the pit.

I cart wheeled across the bar to the far side of the pit knowing every second that a single mistake would send me tumbling to an agonising death, roasted alive on the hot coals. Then while the sands ran out of the hour glass until about a quarter had gone I leapt and capered, cart wheeled and back and forward flipped on the narrow bars over the glowing charcoal. Sweat poured from me, my arms and legs ached from the effort but I knew I had to go on. I was the only hope, the only support of my parents, only by pleasing Don Carlos would I do my duty to them. I loved my parents and I loved and feared my Master Don Carlos as a Tribute Boy should love his master. I wished to please Don Carlos both for my parents and for him.

The passage of a quarter of my dancing time was marked by a double roll on the drums. I did two forward flips and was standing on the side of the pit nearest Don Carlos. I held my hands over my head and sank to the floor before him. He gave no sign of approval or disapproval but simply took a sip of wine from the exquisite cut glass goblet he held.

Now the tempo and nature of the dance changed as we Tribute Boys circled the phallus our naked bodies forming a complex pattern of black, deepest brown and gold . Bare limbs, bare bottoms twitched and turned provoking, worshiping the symbol of manhood and mastery. The two little drummers drew back and sat cross legged on the marble floor maintaining a steady rhythmic beat. Jan picked up the phallus. Now the dance became one of pursuit and flight as bending and opening my self I offered myself to the rampant object. Jan advanced the phallus and I fled. He withdrew it and I renewed my invitation.

At last the phallus appeared to grow tired. Jan sank to the floor, his legs straddling the object. He lay back prone the phallus rising from between his legs, a small boy with a mighty cock. Disappointed I drew near trying to excite the object. I went on my knees and kissed it's base, my cheek brushing Jan's bare thigh, my bottom raised and open and invitingly wriggling under Don Carlos's cold gaze. Slowly I raised myself, my tongue and lips caressing the thing.

Still it remained quiescent, uninterested. I rose to my feet turned away from it and bending backwards formed an arch with my body over it. Crab like I turned till my hands were on either side of Jan's feet, my feet on either side of his head. I manoeuvred myself till I could feel the phallus head pushing up against my anus. I arched my body as high as it would go.

Inu and Itu beat the drums to a crescendo and I flipped my hands and feet simultaneously up into the air. For a split second I dropped downwards as though to impale myself on the monstrous artificial prick. Then Jan brought his knees up to break my fall. I sat balanced there feeling the phallus head pressing into me. I thrust downwards with my legs at the same moment as Jan straightened his. I performed a somersault in the air before coming to rest at the base of Don Carlos' dais.

Once again I prostrated myself. Once more Don Carlos sipped his wine.

The hour glass was two thirds empty. I did three back flips. The drums fell silent. I bent slowly backwards so that my hands were pressed flat on the floor at the very edge of the pit. Slowly I raised my feet from the floor then on my hands I walked along the cross bar almost to the centre of the pit. The drums sounded again and I did a series of black flips from bar to bar. I was back on my feet and still and Jan was holding a long heavy plaited whip in his hand he cracked it loudly. Now absolute co-ordination between drums and whip and dancing boy was absolutely essential as Jan cracked the whip at ankle and knee and waist height and I leapt and jumped to avoid it turning and twisting and somersaulting in the searing heat from the coals. I was conscious now only of the beat of the drums, the hiss and crack of the whip and the red glow of the coals beneath me. But still there was more to do.

And then disaster. Drum and whip fell out of rhythm. The lash curled and caught me around one thigh just as I was doing a backwards flip. It knocked me off balance. With an enormous effort I managed to grip the bar with one hand while with the other arm I fought desperately for balance seeming to grasp at the empty air. I wobbled, steadied, wobbled again and then somehow flipped myself back onto my feet. I paused grinned and did two more flips to show it had all been a put on and was once more standing on the cool marble below my master.

This time I thought there was just the merest flicker of a smile on Don Carlos's face as I made my obeisance to him.

There was now but a sixth of the sand left in the glass. Jan stepped forward and stood beside me. In his right hand he carried a sharply curved sword, in his left a light scarf.

He held the sword out horizontally from his body the cutting edge upwards. He dropped the scarf on to it and so sharp was the blade that it severed the scarf. Jan cut at my legs I leapt back. He cut again and again I leapt back. I was back on the bars over the pit and Jan came after me. Now there was no room for pretence as I leapt and jumped to avoid the keen blade. Now Jan cut loose as well. Holding the blade in his mouth as his gyrations competed and matched mine. Finally there was a double roll of the drums and I realised my performance was over and the moment of truth had arrived.

I cart wheeled off the bar onto the floor of the room and then with a single leap landed on the dais before my master. I dropped to my knees forcing my legs wide apart so the my bum and my balls were touch the floor. I clasped my hands behind my neck and with down cast eyes waited my chest heaving for breath.

There was a long pause and then Don Carlos clapped his hands.

"Master. Please Master your slave the boy Mishear begs your permission to proceed to his chosen means of release and Master your slave begs that you should be good enough to give him guidance on that method if it please you Master."

In one movement I threw myself backwards and lay as Don Carlos had commanded with my head hanging back over the edge of the dais my arms thrown wide waiting for his decision.

Chapter 7b

My Dear Don Carlos,

I write in relation to our planned hunting holiday at your establishment. My party will consist of three adults, myself and my two friends Herr Heinrich Kreipe and Docteur Irmfried Eberl and our three sons Carl, Ludwig and Adolf.

The purpose of our holiday is to introduce the three boys who have all just turned fourteen to the excitements and pleasures of the chase. It will be the first time they have pursued such game. On the other hand they have watched many videos of hunts in which their fathers have been involved and are keen to begin themselves. They have all been practising hard and I think may be said to be more than competent in the management of their ponies and lances. Let the game that you produce therefore be fit and fleet of foot. I want the boys by the end of the holiday, I know I speak for my friends, to be well but fairly blooded.

To avoid accidents the fathers will always ride with their sons but will not intervene unless it looks as though the boy has failed to kill or disable in such a way that he can then dispatch his quarry.

We will expect you to provide all the equipment including porters beaters, hunting dogs and so on. The boys will be keen to take trophies from their kills home to show off to their friends so would you please provide a competent skinner and curer.

We wish the boys to experience all the pleasure of hunting and this include the social side. Would you please therefore ensure that a full programme of entertainment is arranged including dancing boys, fighting boys and so on. I would also be glad if you see that a good cook is provided. The boys have been looking forward excitedly to tasting meat from game that they have themselves killed and I do not want them to be disappointed.

You may feel that we are spoiling our boys but what is the point of wealth if you do not use it and it is after all wealth that our sons are the hunters and the wretches provided by you the game.

I found my last holiday with you a considerable success. I have every confidence that this one will also be so. If you have any queries to raise or matters you wish to clarify please do not hesitate to write to me

Yours sincerely
Don Carlos

Chapter 8a

Some thoughts from Don Carlos before he tortures Mishear

The boy Mishear lies before me as if for sacrifice, he is panting with his exertions, dark body glistening with sweat and oil. The mark of the mistimed whip lash is vivid on one of his spread thighs, what would I be experiencing now had he failed to recover his balance? So beautiful a creature being destroyed before his time in screaming agony is surely a thought to cause me to pause, just a little. All my skill has been used to create this situation and I would have regretted the loss of what will now befall him, though for him, maybe, the end result will be the same. His desire for sexual release seems to burn his slight body, his small penis so engorged as to be flat against his belly throbs in time with his racing heart. He lies so precisely on Fleker`s Bridge of Fire; "Between the Pedestals of Night and Morning, Between Red Death and Radiant Desire…."

What choice will he make for his fate? I have planned that there is just one, gelding would be unthinkable after such a performance as his with the phallus. He will not fight either. This is what I had planned. But first I must take him on a journey further than he has ever been, for him to loose courage in front of his last audience would forever disgrace me. I also have a duty to his father that his son's sacrifice will not be wasted. When a boy looses courage at the last, the crowd leave in haste. Then no bonus then to ensure a peaceful old age. I too have a mission given to me by my father to seek to give every boy in my charge the opportunity for a meaningful Release, and to try to give him the maximum opportunity to beat the 99% odds and win through to a Pardon. Such Pardons are immensely rewarding for both boy and Master, he becomes a media celebrity with all that entails. It is also immensely good for business here!

Those that fail? Well to fail after finding that extra ounce of courage that might have won him through leaves the audience ecstatic and fully drained, what more can a Tribute Boy dream of? All I can achieve is to give a boy a chance, very small but still a chance, and I do succeed considerably better than in 1%! Of course the odds are in my favour as no boy from a poor working master could possibly receive the tuition and training necessary, it usually works out at about two boys each season. I sincerely hope this journey will give him that thing he seeks, the obsession to find that little extra. Indeed my plans are based upon the idea that he can. I also seek relief from my aching penis and testicles, he has succeeded in arousing me to an equally radiant desire, but that will come much later.

I wonder what gifts Mishear has chosen for me to test him with? They are carried by his partner Jan, who now kneels behind his friend, offering up the soft leather satchel. His beauty complements entirely that of dark boy, as a fine white vintage complements the blood dark one. I wonder?

I remember how he came late to me, and how challenging and rewarding my friend John found his breaking, but now he is a total whore, as erect as his friend though some what smaller; all Tribute Boys are the same. Admittedly he is a very skilled one, at nearly a year younger. What I do not understand is the particular type of fear in his eyes, I have never seen such before.

Suddenly, to intense annoyance my secretary slithers in. I fell so angry at the intrusion that I seize the boy's dance sword and make to strike. I check in the face of his screams, no courage these geldings, and give him a brief respite to explain himself. Shaking with fear he hands me the slip of paper that has come in over inter net. I read, I understand, and I see a path that will be deeply satisfying.

"Normally I would have cut your head off for such an intrusion on my privacy, but just this once you have done well. I know how you love to torment little boys, as a reward you can collect Pedro from my bedroom and play with him for a couple of hours, I will not need his services further tonight. But I do want him with all his bits intact in the morning Understand!"

He slithers out to play with his toy.

I go over to the boy Jan and ruffle his hair.

"You too will now have choices to make, answer truthfully."

"Will I sell your Franchise to the couple who you will go to tonight?"

He almost looses the composure of his years of training.

"If it pleases my Master, but please is there another way?"

The fear in his eyes burns as I have never seen in another boy, but now I do understand.

"Yes boy there is, will you fight and kill this boy for me?"

I indicate Mishear who is beginning to look frightened, he does not understand this new game.

"Please No! Master! Anything but that, I would sooner kill myself!"

"Then if I tell you this is the last night you have to play their game, will you come to me tomorrow and beg to accompany your friend Mishear to his fate?"

Now the training does slip.

"Please Master is it true that this can be the last time I go to them?"

"Yes boy it can be, but…"

All control departs and he is crying and hugging his thanks to my legs.

"But! You will present yourself to me tomorrow morning with an account of all that has happened to you and will happen to you this night. As well as what you have not told me yet, understand? (You will tell them nothing, just play the game as usual.) Then I will tell you the time and place of your testing. Now dry your eyes you silly boy and give me the instruments of your friend has chosen."

I look on the three boxes with renewed anticipation of the delights they will afford me, such a good choice, he must have overheard and remembered several conversations, I will be certain to give him his reward later, much later.

"Sit up Mishear! So far tonight Mishear and Jan you have pleased me. I am also pleased with you Itu and Ino, you will stay and watch Mishear's testing until the sand runs out, then go to your tasks. If Mishear, you are still conscious you will be permitted to come to my bed until morning, but then you will attend me with Jan and after he has described your ordeal, you will tell us your feelings? Understand?"

"Yes Master"

"Before I proceed with your so carefully chosen toys I will ask you some questions, answer truthfully. Will you choose slavery or freedom after gelding yourself?"

"No Master, I do not wish it."

"Do you think I will release you whole to breed?"

"No Master, I think not"

"Correct boy! Then you have chosen that Death will be you release. Will this be by mortal combat, or quarry hunted in the mountains?"

"Please Master I have not the courage to fight."

"Then you will choose to die by your own hand, or rather I should say by your dance, may you find the courage for that! Judging by tonight's effort it ought to be quite a performance! Are you also content that Jan will share your fate and not disgrace you? I will assure you your father will be well rewarded by your sacrifice, if you can make it last long enough!"

He regards me with love and thanks in his eyes, but lust and fear are there also, I think the lust is winning.

"Yes Master, I am content, please, please, torture me! torture me! oh! please torture me!"

And he falls back into his sacrificial position with a groan, waiting for the agonies to commence. Such a well trained boy! Once more I turn the glass and his second hour commences…

Chapter 8b

Don Carlos writes and Jan recounts Mishear's ordeal at the hands of Don Carlos

For the first time in many months I feel completely fulfilled. I rose early and managed to read the mail and write the first of many letters. I also found the time to view the disk from the security system in the bungalow that Jan visited last night. I must say inspite of the obscenity of incest I found it rather entertaining and stimulating, even after my night debauching the delectable Mishear. Now the unpleasant duty of confronting my now unwanted guests.

Overlooking my courtyard I sit as Pedro attends me looking very sorry for himself, his testicles and penis seem much larger than normal, I suspect they have been badly bruised. Outside Sky moans in thirst and makes increasingly frantic efforts to reach the water, he will be in the same state as Pedro by now. But he is broken now and I am a kind man, so I will release him and let him drink a little shortly. After he has run he can attend me in the house and later in the bedroom. Jan arrives, filthy and bloody, and awaits my pleasure. He stands taller now and the fear has gone, I almost detect pride, if such a feeling were possible in a Tribute Boy.

My guests arrive, a man and a woman in their late thirties, Veronica and Roger, smooth, professional and insincere in a way only the English can be. She is a Social Worker, he an Accountant. With them is a very attractive blonde boy of about nine years, Justin, but there is a viciousness and arrogance in his eyes that is not becoming, even in a Free Boy. They sit, suspecting nothing, Jan has played his part well. Smoothly I tell them that it is the management's decision that due to an unfortunate oversight in double booking, they will have to leave today.

I indicate the form, and the disk from the security cameras, "You do realise that using your own offspring for personal services under Tribute Law is a criminal offence? The courts can of course take any siblings into Care as well, I think the boy would not be too happy at that? In the circumstances I suggest you remove the chance of prosecution and Care proceedings by signing over your pension rights and interests in the brat to me, you do notice it is post dated so the disk can no longer be used against you? You will of course be quite happy to sign?

She is no lady in her invective and hate, but when Hassan arrives on cue she does and they take their leave. As she passes Jan she hisses with venom, "You little worthless, ungrateful, little whore, you set this up didn't you? Even after everything I've done for you! I am going to get my hands on you sooner or later and peel the skin off your pretty body, a few centimetres at a time!"

I show no sign of recognising his silent, obscene thrust up single finger at her retreating back. He need have no fear now, she will not follow him where he has chosen to go to carry out her threat. Maybe his fate will be no less agonising to his body, but his mind is now free. I clap and he sits as a good boy should, I do like them dirty and dishevelled, so boyish!

Mishear joins us, very groggy, but equally radiant, I motion him to sit by his first, and his last friend. Dark brown and gold they kneel side by side in front of me awaiting my pleasure, whatever that might be they would obey.

"Jan I suspect you do not fully understand your changed circumstances? Your mother broke the Tribute Law by using you herself so now rather than face prosecution and Justin going into Care she has signed away all her interests in you to me. I am now both your Tribute Master and your Guardian."

He loose all controls and crawls over to my side and hugs my knees weeping uncontrollably, and babbling his gratitude. I stroke his blond hair, down the nape of his neck and caress the smooth golden flesh.

"There, there hush now silly boy it has ended, she will not hurt you again. I will protect you now."

His tears stop, eyes shining so bright a blue with the remaining drops.

"There is more however, I have no need of a pension so I shall transfer yours to Mishear's father… Provided that you either die together with him or by some remote chance are both pardoned."

Both boys are stunned by the news, but Mishear reacts first and throws himself on to my legs the other side from Jan.

"Oh Master! How can I thank you enough? Now I can be sure my father will be rich in his old age, and will not have to send little Bahji off to be tribute! I will die happy now for love of you!"

I caress him too, such expressions of love from the heart can not be ignored.

Now Jan; "Beloved Master, I thank you for allowing my death to reward my friend and honour you, I wish my father could see my bravery!"

"First things first boy! I need to hear your experiences in your own words, later I have to test you to assay your worth. So now first Jan, and then Mishear, tell me in your own words everything you have experienced from the moment I turned the hour glass the second time. Jan I warn you everything or else…"

Jan Speaks

When you turned the glass Master, for me time stood still, I suspect that it did for Mishear too. My mind whiled thinking over how everything had changed in the last few moments. I was filled with love for you and my friend. I am very aroused by his by his lust. Although I have experience orgasms when under a trusting body of one of your guests, there has never been any sperm. Mishear told me with wonder filled shinning eyes how it had been for him when you bridled him and rode him cruelly until in a whirl of pain and pleasure jet after jet of his sperm covered him and you. I long to experience this before I to die. When he was poised above me, the phallus centred in his anus I knew that if I did not raise my knees he would impale himself, would he then experience the same pleasure? Is this the way he will chose to die? I did not raise my knees quite as much as when we practised and the tip entered him before I caught him. Then when my whip caught him and he nearly fell! my guts loosened and I nearly disgraced you, and him. Is that the way we will die writhing in agony upon agony on the glowing charcoal, but not alone, together?

Strangely these thought are making me more erect than I ever have been. Or is it the thought of what, you my Master, will do to you my friends body? I have always found the sight other boys pain erotic.

Then you rise my Master, you slip the knot and your sarong falls, I marvel at the power of your body and of your erect penis, the end glistens with droplets in the fire glow, as I have often seen this in men in lust.

You takes out Mishear's toys and handle each one. To the ring you say

"I think I will use this first, though it will take time to take full effect, but there is a way to speed things up, Ino run and get a 60 ml. syringe from the Games Complex, Itu some red wine and some water from the kitchen. If you are not quick I will use the other two on you, one each!"

As you wait for their return you scratch along the underside of Mishear's straining penis, then you work your strong hand on the sack of testicles, squeezing hard, for the first time Mishear groans in pain. You continue to work his genitals, and then into his anus, other hand caressing the spread thighs.

"Ah so you did penetrate your self then! Was it good?"

Mishear moaned and twisted a little, "Yes Master"

"Well don't make a habit of it, you know the penalty if you make yourself come, and I would miss bridling you a few more times. Would you like me to bridle you and ride you again?"

Mishear is becoming frantic as he twists under your hands and questions.

"Yes Master, please Master, fuck your slave again!"

"We'll see you sexy little whore, we'll see."

Then Ino and Itu come back, and place the things at your hand. You mix wine and water and fill the syringe.

"Itu, Ino, take one wrist each, sit on the floor, legs braced against the dais legs, and when I say pull do it! Jan hold his knees apart."

"Right, hold him still and Pull!"

Mishear shakes his head against the pain in his arms, but screams as you push the syringe into the slit of his penis, and inject the burning mixture into his bladder. You tell me to squeeze him as you refill the syringe, I feel his pain shudder through him, thighs against my belly, as the next dose is forced in. Again unbidden I squeeze his erect penis, it feels so good, but I dare not move my hand up and down it. Four more doses go in, now Mishear threshes against the boys restraining him. His once flat belly is now pushed out by his distended bladder. I squeeze again, enjoying his pain, remembering the pain of the injured boy runner, when I squeezed his bruised penis before my ninth birthday. You come back with the penis ring, roll back Mishear's long black foreskin and screw it firmly in position just below the purple head. You order us all to let go of Mishear, as the urine pushes to find a way out he screams again. I will not mention his screams again because from now on until just before the sand ran out he screamed a lot, when ever he could. You firmly knead his belly, the pain must be bad. From his frantic tossings. If it is possible his penis is even harder than before.

"We will leave that doing its work and move on to the next toy you have so thoughtfully provide, Are you ready Mishear?"

"Yes Master, torture me!"

You pick up the electric probe, you go round to Mishear's thrust back head, you kneel and he strains towards your rampant penis trying to lick you; to take you into him. You oblige him and with one thrust, you bury your self. He struggles weekly for air, and you touch his nipple gently one at a time, with the electric probe, he cant scream but his bodies convulsions show what he feels. Occasionally you withdraw to let him gasp for air. you tell Ino and Itu to stretch his arms again, I am told to kneel between his spread thighs and press on his swollen bladder every time you touch him. You slowly work his upper body with the shocks, working down ward until you touch the swollen tip of his penis. With a violent convulsion he flails his legs out from under his thighs, and they jerk spastically. You order me to hold his ankles, this is difficult because he is kicking about so much. I struggle to keep him still until the spasm passes. You withdraw, and gaze on the spread body before you, running your hand over the tortured flesh. Mishear is tossing his head about.

"Please Master, don't stop I can take more."

"Yes boy, there will be much, much more." You answer.

"Now boy you will repeat the part of your dance with Jan where you tried to fuck yourself on the phallus, only this time Jan will hold electric probe instead."

Mishear is moving awkwardly due to the pain in his belly and penis, but the lust is still in his eyes as he starts to repeat the dance. At every point he touches the end of the probe he convulses with pain as the shocks courses through him. You have set it to pulse so that sometimes he gets a shock, and sometimes not. Itu and Inu drum frenetically, as aroused as I am by the unrestrained pain and sexuality. When Mishear is arched crab wise above me in the final movement the shorter probe does not touch his anus. When he flips up, and I draw up my knees to catch him it enters him, he can not remain seated on my knees but writhes about.

"Now drop your knees Jan!" You order me.

«Jan turns to Mishear.»

"I do and the probe impales your body, I marvel how deep it goes, and how much more pain you are enduring, you seem to be riding it to new heights of consciousness. You are thrashing in the air but a few moments and I can no longer keep the probe balanced and you fall across me, still impaled. I feel as I have never felt before, your body writhing naked on top of mine, my substitute penis raping you, sends me into the most intense orgasm I have ever experienced. I am not sure how long we were in this state, it seemed an eternity, I think I must have passed out."

"Forgive me Master, I will continue," you nod. " When I came too Mishear back on the dais, spread before you, waiting. I glance at my belly and see it is covered with clear liquid, my first come! Not thick and white like the semen of Mishear or the many men I have served, but maybe I will have time for it to happen for me Master?"

"Maybe boy, continue."

The sand has half run. Now you order me to stand at Mishear's feet, he his tossing about and groaning, and you stand astride his head, as rampant as ever. You lean and press his lower belly again, and he curls in agony at the pressure.

"Enough I think, you will not perform well with a ruptured bladder. If I left you like this you it would take a long time for the end to come."

"You continue to caress and torture him, I am hard again."

"Well Jan you are his friend what shall we do with him?"

"Please Master, take it off him I do not think he can stand much more."

"But what about all the piss he will release all over my nice clean floor?"

"I know how you hate this, there is only one solution, I do not think Mishear can walk now, even if you gave him permission to go to the toilet."

"If you release him Master, I will try and drink it all."

"Good boy."

I kneel between Mishear's thighs again, he raises his head and looks at me with love and relief. I take his tortured penis in my fingers, it feels so good, you remove the penis ring. I lean take him inside me, and let go. The stream is powerful, salt and wine, I struggle to swallow. I must take a breath, squeeze again, this causes him more pain. I release and try to take everything, Mishear bucks his hips trusting into my mouth as his bladder empties. With a groan he goes limp through exhaustion and I stand, I have not been entirely successful, but you kindly order Itu and Ino to lick up the puddles. The unaccustomed wine glows in my belly. You speak again.

"Other than to serve me, what is it you most wish for Mishear?"

"For you to make me come like the first time Master! I want you to come inside me just as much."

"'Very well…" You start to stroke his penis, and he strains up to take you inside his throat again and thrusts his hips.

"But you may only come through pain, not this way." You flick the end of his penis and he squeals.

"Do you still wish it?"

"Please Master make me come, please…"

You give me the probe and kneel at his head again, Ino and Itu spread his arms, their glistening black bodies straining. You tell me to pass you Mishear's heels and tell him to lock them behind your head. You start thrusting into his throat again.

"Right Jan shove it right up him hard!"

I have an amazing feeling of power as I penetrate him, pulse after pulse of agony flows into his innermost being. How far can a boy be penetrated before something rips inside him? This scene lasts only a few moments and I see his penis start to twitch, and jet after jet of thick white sperm sprays over his dark brown chest and up on to yours. You grunt savagely and come inside him almost simultaneously. You collapse on top of him and unbidden I remove the cruel probe. When you get to your feet Mishear looks almost unconscious, only the wide glazed eyes tell me some part of him is still here. His dark heaving chest is coated with his own semen, yours runs out of the corners of his slack mouth, and down into his braided hair that hangs towards the floor. Time stand still, but the sand still runs.

"I think you have the potential of making a classic performance together, you will need expert guidance. But there is a toy I have not played with yet."

You take out the six needles, my blood runs cold, how much more can my friend take, he is almost unconscious now! There is but a quarter of sand to run. You go over to you carpet and stretch out on your back. Why do you keep such a stained thing, Master, when everything else is so fine? You order Mishear to squat astride you and take you into him. I kneel as ordered at your head. You pull savagely down on Mishear's hips, your dark bush hard against his soft buttocks. Ino and Itu are ordered to take his wrists again and spread him for you. As bidden I pass you one pin at a time, starting with the smallest. I can no longer remember where you thrust them, some you took out and re positioned them. You started with nipples and arm pits, then lips, thighs then into the groin and genitals. The last six inch [15 cm] one you saved and as Mishear's screams grew hoarse, his penis started to twitch once more you drove this one full length along the line of the penis into his belly. No screams now but the semen came again and again in great jets. You must have filled him inside as well judging by your cries; He was only just conscious when you rolled him off you and withdrew the pins. You order Inu and Itu to go taking the satchel with them and to make sure the instruments were put in the sterilising chest.

To me you said softer and kinder than I have ever known you.

"Go to your clients Jan, be brave its the last time with them, I'll see you in the morning."

I left to seek what awaited me… with the awful fear churning my belly but a glimmer of hope too.

Don Carlos speaks

Seeing him sway with fatigue I take pity on him, a shame because he is such an intelligent and well spoken brat, quite a way with words! I think if the disk has recorded well it should make an excellent start to the compilation that will end with his death together with his friend in the fire pit. The sales should be most satisfactory, why should he know he is being recorded? He will never live to see the whole, unless a miracle happens.

"You need not continue boy I already know the rest, but you might find it interesting to watch the disk of your activities last night?" He just sobs a little, still hugging me, and even looking shamed, not usual in a Tribute Brat!

Chapter 8c

Mishear recounts his night with Don Carlos

I knelt in the sand, the sun warm on my naked flesh at the feet of my master hugging his knees. Jan knelt beside me but he was hardly able to stay upright so tired and hurt was he from the ordeal of the previous night. I glanced quickly at Don Carlos and was relieved to see a slight smile curl the corners of his mouth upwards

"Master," I said, " Jan begs your pardon but he was hard driven and he has asked me to give you this account that I have written at his dictation about his experiences."

As I spoke Jan began to fall sideways and it was only with difficulty that I prevented him measuring his length on the ground.

Don Carlos took the papers I offered him from me, glanced at them and smiled indulgently.

"Then Master I will tell you of what I remember of my own experiences of last night. If I get things out of order I beg your forgiveness. It is hard for me to remember exactly what happened for the pain was so great."

Mishear tells his story

I lay on the dais my head thrown my throat ready for my your knife should you judge my performance unworthy, back my arms and legs spread wide. The excitement of the dance had for the moment banished all thought now I felt sick with fear. Not so much of death, for boys such as me death is never very far distant and in the five years of my servitude I had become used to it's presence, but of rejection. You are Master everything to me, you feed, clothe me, punish me when you judge it needed, and hold my life in your hand. The priest sometimes comes and talks to us boys about some all powerful all knowing being whom he worshipped that he called god, but how that god was not for the likes of us. The first time I heard him I was puzzled, where was this all powerful being and what did he look like, then when he had gone one of the older boys explained it to me, for you Master Don you were god. I had tried to dance my love and worship and submission if you now rejected me I had failed you and in failing you I had failed my parents too who relied on me to provide for their old age.

I had tried hard, my chest heaved as I fought for breath, my body was sticky with sweat for the heat over the charcoal pit had been intense. My thigh burnt where the lash had caught me. I was aware of the ache of my want. I knew my cock was erect. If my dance did not tell you Master I loved you surely my hard little boy's cock would do so, I thought desperately. Of all the rules under which a Tribute Boy has to live the hardest to bear is that which forbids all sex without the permission of the master.

I heard you stand up, your footsteps approach. You were standing looking down at me. I could not breath for fear. Your eyes, expressionless, observed me and then you walked on. Tears of frustration and fear welled up in my eyes but dared not move.

You speak to Jan. You asked him if he would fight me to the death. I almost cried out in my misery not only had I failed but you wanted me to fight my friend, the boy who danced with me, whom I trusted with my life above the burning coals and the cruel phallus. It was not right to be made to fight my sty mate either Jan or little blond Vass the athlete and runner. The three of us shared our lives. We should not be pitted against each other.

I heard Jan's young voice protest that he would rather die and I almost cried out that no he should live and I would die. But then there was an interruption and when You spoke again it was still to Jan but now you were talking of the strangers who chose Jan so often and whose attentions so upset him. I heard you tell Jan that this was the last night he would have to attend them and that rather than fighting me he should share my death. Though I dared not look I could tell that Jan was on his knees in gratitude and my heart sang with joy. To be allowed to die with my friend. No wonder we boys love you when you are so generous.

Now though a new dread approached. The time of my testing had come.

You told me that if I proved myself worthy I would dance my way to release. My heart sang. I had pleased you and Jan and I would achieve our freedom together. I begged you to begin and steeled myself for the pain to come. I told myself I must fight against taking the easy escape of unconsciousness. I knew I must feel and welcome every agony that you chose to inflict on me.

Then Master you came and stood beside me and your hands fondled me. I saw you were naked and your cock rose hard and straight and demanding from the black curled forest of hair at your crutch. The dark blue veins that ran it's length swollen and pulsing as the blood surged through them and the little beads of moisture that had formed at it's tip glinting in the fire light. I had seen your cock before Master both that time, just the once, when you took me and rode me and often about the hacienda and like all the other Tribute Boys wondered at it. But this time Master I felt…. Proud that it was me and the prospect of my pain that made it so hard. Please forgive me Master I know that pride is not something a Tribute Boy is meant to have but that is what I felt.

Then you sent Itu or was it Inu to get the syringe from and he brought it to you and you filled it. You had them take my wrists and hold them ad you told Jan to kneel between my legs and hold my knees apart and Jan was hard to ut his cock was tiny compared to yours. Then you took the syringe and pushed it up my cock and the pain began. I don't know how often you pushed it in there but it hurt so much It felt as though some one was pushing a red hot needle up my cock and filling my tummy with boiling water and I heard myself scream.

You put that clamp on my cock so I couldn't pee although I was desperate to go. My tummy was all tight and swollen and you told Jan to press down on it and that hurt awfully.

I brushed the back of my hand against Jan's naked thigh to show him I did not blame him for hurting me. Indeed how could I. He had only been doing as his Master had told him.

The electric prod was in your hand. You came and stood by my head your cock was just above me I strained up to touch it with my lips and you let me take it into my mouth and as I kissed and licked it you stroked my body with the prod causing me to twist and writhe as the electric current tore through me.

Then you gave the prod to Jan and told me to dance to it as I had danced to the phallus. It was difficult Master to dance well with my tummy all swollen and hurting but I did my best and the prod made me move quick when it touched me. At the end when I was arched over the prod my bum balanced on Jan's knees you told him to lower me so the prod entered me and then the current hit me inside and all I knew was pain that filled my body. When Jan pulled the rod out of me and wriggled away and I was aware of more than just the hurt, although the hurt was very bad still, I felt warm wetness on my back and I knew Jan had come while he was under me.

You knelt at my head and told me lock my feet round your neck. You pressed your cock against my lips and I opened my mouth eagerly to receive it. It reached right back into my throat and I thought for a moment I might joke but you pulled back a second and I managed to drag a mouthful of air into my lungs. I felt Jan force the prod into me. He pushed and pushed and the thing went deep into me. Much deeper than the last time deeper than I thought was possible and when the electricity jolted me it felt as hough I was right in the centre of my guts and while you fucked my mouth with your cock Jan fucked my bum with the prod and all the time the agony in my tummy increased as the pressure of the pee inside me increased.

Then suddenly your cock surged deep in my throat and my mouth and throat was full of your juice. I swallowed hard but so much pumped out of you that I could not take it all and it spilled from my lips and ran down my chin.

The prod was out of me but the pain from my swollen belly made me scream and writhe. I heard you speak but all noise seemed to come from a long way off and I could not understand what you said. Then the clamp was taken off my penis and the pee flowed out of me and the pain bated and I became aware of Jan kneeling between my legs his mouth clamped round my cock swallowing hard.

"I hope it tasted good Jan," I said to my friend with a grin and then hurried on as Don Carlos frowned at me.

As I lay there the pee streaming from me. I took a glance at the hour glass. I saw that I had a quarter of my time to go. I had come a long way but my body screamed with pain. It would I knew take everything I had to last the time that remained to me.

You told me to squat over your crutch and you pulled me down onto your prick and it entered me. Fresh waves of pain swept over me as your iron hard rod penetrated my tortured flesh. Mixed with that pain though was a pulsing excitement as your penis probed ever deeper into my body. The screams that were forced from my heaving chest were of pain and ecstasy. I felt your coarse pubic hair pressing against my bum and knew the full length of your swollen prick was sheathed in my body. Then a new and deeper agony engulfed me as you ran the full length of one of the needles into my arm pit. My screams rose in volume as you methodically pierced the tender est areas of my body with those cruel steel probes. I was engulfed in waves of pain. I no longer knew where the needles were being thrust just that the agony was unbearable bust must be borne. I seemed to be floating away from my body but still I felt the pain and with the pain an ever rising excitement. Then the damn burst within me I felt your cock surge and in a series of enormous spasm while my bum muscles pumped convulsively and jets of cum sprang from the tip of my own hard little prick.

You pushed me away from you and I rolled onto the floor whimpering. My whole body hurt and though the torture had ceased the pain was still intense. But despite the pain I was happy, happy that I had given my Master pleasure and happy that I had survived my ordeal.

There was a murmur of voices and then silence. How long I lay there I do not know but at last you were with me again. You were still naked but from the clean smell that came from your body you had bathed. I on the other hand was still covered with sweat, cum, both my own and yours and Jan's clear boy's fluid, and blood.

I think Master you must like your boys grubby. You lifted me from the floor and pressed your lips against mine. I threw my arms round your neck and held tight to you opening my lips to allow your questing tongue to probe deep into my mouth. You carried me into your bedroom and lay me face down across a pillow on your great double bed. Instinctively I opened my legs and pushed my bum upwards. You did not enter me straight away but took some cream on the tip of your finger and began to work it between the lips of my anus. I felt the cool cream soothing the hurt there. Then you knelt between my legs. I felt the tip of your cock pressing against my hole. I pushed my bum up further eager to have you inside me once again. Very slowly almost gently you entered me. Despite my sphincter tightened but you pushed steadily downward and the moments unintended resistance was overcome. I felt excitement rise in me and I began to move my bum trying to draw you ever further into me. Then once again I felt your pubic hair against my flesh and I was fully impaled. Now you began to work your swollen cock inside me and I writhed and squealed in excitement as your thrust increased in frequency and violence. Then once more there was that moment of total abandon when your cock pumped your juices into me and my own body convulsed.

I woke later and although you were asleep your cock was hard once again pressing into the crack of my bum. I twisted round and wriggled down the bed and took your cock into my mouth tasting my own shit and your dried cum. You hardened but before you came you woke and grunting a command to me made me roll once more onto my belly and took me again in the bottom.

You took me again just before you rose for breakfast. Then you kissed me and told me I was a good little whore and sent me on my way.

***

"And Master," I hurried on speaking fast so he could not stop me and looking up earnestly into Don Carlos's stern face, "Master could you fuck Jan before his release too, Master. I know that he loves you and he'll be just as good a little whore as me Master. Please Master."

To my relief Don Carlos was not angry. Instead he reached down and ruffled our hair. What a touching scene we must have made, two hurt and abused little boys being comforted by their beloved Master. Those who question the Tribute System, even a brat hears the whispers, should realise the care a Master gives to the likes of us. How else can we develop our full potential and fulfil our destiny, our Karma?

"We shall have to see," he said but as I told Jan as we lay together later that meant he would if he succeeded in his ordeal and we agreed we were lucky to have so good and generous a Master

Now though Don Carlos told us to rest and we settled down nose to tail in the sand at his feet our tongues cleaning and soothing the soreness in each others bottoms. Until sleep overcame us both.

Later, much later, we woke.

"Mishear," Jan asked, "what instruments should I take to Don Carlos for my torment?"

"What ever you fear the most among those that will not mark you visibly," I replied. "I'll help you if you want."

Chapter 9

Jan's misery

After the extraordinary events at the summer carnival of 99 Don Carlos asked me, as the performance director of the two Tribute Boys involved, to investigate the surrounding circumstances. He asked for a report as he felt there might be lessons to be learnt for the future management of such boys. Certainly he did not want ever again to experience such an unnecessary loss of potential profits.

In searching the archives I came across six or so sheets of unevenly written somewhat crumpled foolscap paper. On examining these it became apparent that it was an account written by Mishear on the basis of information provided by Jan of the last night the latter spent with the two mysterious strangers who had so frequently requested his services of Don Carlos. The narrative was disjointed and somewhat confused. To make sense of the document I have rewritten it so what follows is my version of an account written by Mishear of an experience of his sty mate Jan.

I would not attach too much blame to Mishear for the deficiencies in the original document. In the first place while Don Carlos sees that all his Tribute Boys are taught to read and write their instruction does not extend much beyond that certainly not to the finer points of composition or the organisation of complex material. Boys who are due to be released before their fifteenth birthday will have little use for such skills and there are things more important and relevant to their condition in which they should be schooled, endurance obedience, the ways in which a boy can give pleasure to a man and so on. Further more at the time it was written both boys had been hardly used and were tired and very sore.

Nor was the place where they rested well suited for writing or indeed anything else but the sleep of an exhausted and hard driven boy. The sties the boy's live in look attractive enough from the outside but within they are spartan in the extreme. A concrete floor a wooden sleeping bench with three small boxes stored below where the boys can keep their meagre personal belongings. Otherwise apart from the slop bucket and the irons set in the wall in case of need and the ubiquitous ctv in the interior is bare. In winter Don Carlos allows a scattering of fresh straw each night to give the boys some warmth. In the summer such a luxury is denied them. They sleep on the wooden platform floor getting warmth from each others bodies.

I can picture the scene now the two boys, one dark the other fare, their bodies baring the marks of the previous night's grievous mistreatment, stretched by side on the concrete floor. Outside the sun shines brightly and the air is loud with the buzz of insects. Inside it is hot but gloomy. The water from the mornings scrubbing has long evaporated from the concrete floor. The boys drift in and out of consciousness as they struggle to describe for their master the horror to which Jan had been subjected.

Jan had hurried from Don Carlos's chamber his mind in turmoil from the scenes and emotions he had experienced. He was a little fuddled from red wine he had drunk in Mishear's urine and he felt emptied after experiencing his first full orgasm. He would have felt these things but not analysed them. Tribute Boys are creatures of emotion not given or indeed capable of extended rational thought.

In the changing rooms he selected the clothes he had been instructed to wear. The briefest of shorts, leather sandals and a fine line jerkin, the clothes of a rich free boy, the clothes he would have been wearing if his mother had not refused to pay his tribute money. Clothes he was now being required to wear so that he could be mocked and humiliated. The cloth about his body must have felt strange after years spent barefoot and naked.

He would have been aware of the cruel mockery of him implicit in requiring him to wear such garments. He would have been aware too of how restrictive the cloth about his body and the shoes on his feet felt. Perhaps he had at that moment a vague dreadful suspicion, that for him and his like true freedom, the freedom to be himself, lay in being a Tribute Boy. On the other hand probably not. It is wrong to ascribe to the little brutes our own thoughts and feelings. Either by nature or as a consequence of their treatment they are much nearer the purely animal than we are.

All this he would or could have felt instinctively, without spelling out the thoughts even to himself but nevertheless adding to the chaos and misery that enveloped his mind.

On leaden feet he crossed the sand and lawns to the bungalow where his tormentors awaited him. He did not knock on the door but walked in as he had been instructed.

The Video disk starts running…

It shows a room in one of the Guest Bungalows. The room is comfortably furnished, a tiled floor with rich rugs subdued lighting, luxurious furniture. The sort of room Jan would have been accustomed to if he had remained a free boy but which as a Tribute Boy he was allowed to visit only when selected as a play thing. This was so at first glance at least. Closer inspection would have shown that the furniture was a trifle more solid than usual, that there were rings discreetly fitted in various strategic place to the floor and walls and indeed ceiling to which boys could be shackled if necessary. That the paintings although skilfully executed were a trifle more explicit than one would expect in a private drawing room.

Sitting alone on a settee was a man, he is dressed only in a black leather waistcoat. Of course in these enlightened days total or partial nudity is unremarkable. He looked up and smiled as Jan entered. How the boy had come to fear and hate that smile.

"Ah Jan how was school today?"

"Very good Uncle Roger," the wretched boy mumbled.

"I didn't catch that Jan. Come over here and stand by me. I will be able to hear you better then."

The boy moved reluctantly towards the man.

"Right up beside me Jan," the man lent forward and grabbing the boy by his wrist pulling him closer.

"Now Jan I asked you how you did at school. You're going to tell your Uncle Roger aren't you.?"

The man's voice mocked the boy. He slipped his hand up the back of the boy's thigh under the edge of his brief shorts and squeezed his bottom.

"It went very well Uncle Roger," Jan sounded on the brink of tears.

"Really can I see how good you are at history then Jan?

"Tell me what battle was fought in 1815."

History is not taught to Tribute Boys. What point is history to those who have no future? Jan mumbles miserably and the man laughs lightly.

"Well you're not doing too well are you?"

The man's thumb began to push into Jan's crack. The boy stirred uneasily. He desperately didn't want to get excited but he could feel himself hardening despite himself.

"Let's see well you'll know this one Jan. What war started in 1914?"

It always begins like this a little play acting during which the man humiliates and confuses the boy.

Jan mumbled something and the man sighs with exaggerated patience.

"You should have known that Jan. You really should. What about the War of 2061 I bet you do not even know that was to liberate free citizens from the burden of the poor and stop them breeding like rabbits in their filth!"

Of course this is the one piece of history every Tribute Boy is taught!

"I'm beginning to think you're good for one thing only."

Suddenly the man drove his unlubricated thumb deep into the boy. Jan screamed at the cruel invasion.

"What's the matter Jan? I thought perhaps that would make your mind work better. Now let's see …," and the merciless inquisition resumed as the man worked his thumb inside the sobbing boy. Jan humiliated and in pain was still aroused by the man's constant probing. Suddenly he could restrain himself no longer and a great gush of boy's cum jets from his penis spreading a large damp patch across the front of his shorts.

"You filthy boy," the man shouts and the door of the sitting room opens and in came the women who is Jan's mother, she is naked except for a studded belt and choker of black leather. With her is a small blond boy who is his half brother Justin. Jan begins to cry in earnest for he knew now the real pain would begin.

"What ever is the matter Roger?" The woman demanded.

"Oh Veronica darling here's Jan just back from school and I was asking him about his work and look what the naughty little lad has done," the man said jerking his thumb clear of Jan's anus with a force and abruptness that sent fresh waves of agony through his body.

"He's not fresh back from school. I saw long ago he was a no good useless little whore so I sent him off to be a Tribute Boy. Look at the brand on his bum. He was not a good little boy like Justin, so he had to suffer didn't he?"

Jan starts weeping, all the awful memories retiring to him in confusion.

"Come on Justin, take his shorts off and see his brand, he's not your big brother at all!"

The boy grips the waste band of Jan's shorts and pulls them abruptly down over his hips ripping off the fasteners. He is smirking, and his own very brief black leather shorts, his only garment, do not conceal his immature erection.

"Why yes … That explains it," the man said tracing the deep lines incised in the flesh of Jan's rump by the hot iron. "You did quite right my dear. You can see by the way the tart came all over his shorts that he's only fit to be a Tribute Boy. He must be very grateful to you for spotting his true nature and allowing him to follow his filthy animal urges."

"Get down on your knees Jan and thank your kind Mummy for making you into a Tribute Brat."

The man grabbed hold of Jan by his balls and squeezing and twisting them viciously pulled sharply downwards. Jan collapsed to his knees sobbing. The man kept a tight hold of his testicles.

"Come on I want to hear you NOW," the man pulled again

"Ow Oh please Sir Pleeease. Mother."

"MUMMY you ungrateful little shit."

"Oh Oh Mummy. Thank you Mummy ….."

"For recognising my true nature… Come on brat or do I have to pull your balls off by the roots…"

"Sir … Oh sir … Please… For recognising my true nature… And making me a Tribute Boy…"

"That's better, now dear do sit down, shall we have something to eat?"

"Yes darling but it would be nice now that we're together as a family once more if things were just a little bit more romantic don't you think? That overhead light is a little bright. Candle light would be nicer but there's no candle holder."

Oh we can easily overcome that. I'm sure your son in gratitude for all your kindness to him will willingly serve the part."

"Come on now Jan face down on the coffee table and spread your arms and legs. Quickly now." The man clouted Jan across the side of the head. "Come on you won't make me tell you a second time if you know what's good for you. That's better."

The coffee table was stoutly built and at each corner were discreetly placed irons that could be used to hold a boy in place while his betters amused themselves with his body. The man clamped these irons about Jan's wrists and ankles. Then he picked up a thick but fairly short red candle from the side board. He jammed it viciously into Jan's bottom.

"Don't make a fuss boy do you begrudge a little discomfort to please your mother after all she has done for you." The man said twisting the candle downwards as Jan fought desperately to hold back his screams.

"Now do you have a match dear. Thank you so much. There we are it's alight now." Carelessly he dropped the burning match onto Jan's bare bottom.

"Stop that noise brat, I've warned you already." A thick strap cut down across the back of Jan's thighs.

"We're ready for our meal now, I told the house boy to bring a goats cheese soufflé and a bottle of Chateau Brunaire across from the house. The 75 vintage I though we might spoil ourselves on such a happy occasion."

"Ah here he is now. Put the soufflé dish on the table brat, quickly now."

Jan heard the crack of leather against bare flesh and a squeal of pain as the house boy caught it with the strap for hesitating. Then an agonising burning pain as the hot soufflé dish was rested on his bare shoulders.

"That's it." The man shouted as Jan screamed. "I'm not taking any more of this from you, you ungrateful little tyke."

Jan heard the leather strap whistle through the air above him and second later it cracked down across his thighs driving the breath out of his body. Over and over again the man brought the belt thudding down until, deep in a red sea of pain, Jan lost all count.

"Darling do stop now," Jan heard his Mother's voice speaking from a great distance, "the soufflé will spoil…"

The two adults settled down to eat and chat and enjoy the rare Medoc, between them sits the small boy, they occasionally feed him choice morsels, even sips of the wine. All the while the wretched boy lay spread-eagled and whimpering on the table. For a short time Jan felt that his condition could not get worse and then a new pain and a new terror assailed him. The hot wax was running down the burning candle and onto the lips of his anus. He moaned and writhed at the pain.

"For heavens sake Jan," his mother snapped have you no consideration for others. Lie still your spoiling our meal. I'll teach you to fidget," with that she stabbed her fork into Jan's rump in the crease where his buttocks joined his thighs.

"Justin dearest, do try that and stop your no good half brother making such a fuss!"

The little boy needs to second biding and jabs his fork into the soft flesh between the ball sack and the anus, then he shamelessly rubs his small but very erect cock.

"He does make a fuss about the slightest thing, doesn't he?" the man remarked. "Come and sit beside me dear you're so far away. And you too Justin, you can play with mummy and daddy as well. Do take off those shorts they do get in the way so."

There was a rustle of movement and then whispering and the sound of kissing and the unmistakable moans of lust both adult and child.

Quite apart from the pain from the molten wax Jan was now becoming conscious of the heat from the candle flame.

Time passed and the pain became more intense.

"Darling," the man's voice said, "shall we three go into the bedroom?"

There was a rustle of movement as the two adults stood up and began to walk door. Jan cried out in terror.

"What ever is the matter with that wretched boy?"

"I don't know dear. Listen brat you call out or anything and disturb us and I'll flay the flesh from your back with this strap."

"Please Sir, Please Sir, don't leave the candle burning in me PLEASE," Jan cried desperately.

He heard his mother giggle and then the bedroom door closed behind her and her boyfriend.

The heat from the burning candle grew more intense as time passed. Desperately Jan hurled himself about on the table trying to dislodge the candle from his bum but the bonds holding him in place were strong and all he did was to cut the flesh on his ankle and wrists. At last he could stand the pain no longer and he began to scream hysterically. In his terror he peed himself.

The bedroom door opened and he heard footsteps. He senses the boy stand behind him, then feels the warm salt urine stinging the burnt flesh. The boyish giggles are joined by the sound of a man's laugh and then another stream of warm fluid hits his rump and douses the candle which is then ripped from his bum. The irons holding him in place were loosened, and he is unceremoniously rolled on to the floor.

"Oh daddy, I just have to have a shit!"

"Well Justin dear just use the Brat, it will clean it up afterwards, that's all it's good for!"

Jan watches in revulsion, he knows that his Master finds such activity offensive, it is one of his very few prohibitions on the Hacienda. His half brother squats over his face, strains, the realises the nauseous heap, some runs on to the fine rug.

"Get on with it Brat and clean up your better, then that awful stinking mess you've made!"

Jan had to spend the next hour or so first cleaning the little boy's arse with his tongue, then licking the urine and the faeces from off the floor and off the coffee table. All the while his mother and her boy friend sat watching. Occasionally they fondle the little boy's penis, occasionally encouraging him with the strap. After that the man brutally raped the whimpering boy in front of his mother, who is being brought to orgasm by both the debauching of her older son and the enthusiastic ministrations of her younger one. For Jan the agony of this being increased by the way the candle had scorched his anus. Then with the day just beginning to dawn they threw him out of the bungalow remarking that they did not want their rest further disturbed by his blubbing.

The disk fades to blank…

It was there huddled on the grass lawn that he was found by Karl, the Head Gamekeeper, on his early morning rounds. Not a completely unkind man he encourages the boy on his way to keep his rendez vous with his Master. Wrinkling his nose in disgust at the blood and faeces befouled brat he orders him to take a long swim in the sea as he runs the length of the beach towards the main house.

Jan in shock from watching his own abuse; part of him is filled with revulsion and hate for his abusers but the other part is erotically aroused; He wants his Master who he so loves to take him now despite the pain. He whimpers pushing as close as he can to Don Carlos, who caresses him in return.

"Hush now boy, you can now forget and concentrate on your future…. Let me hear from Mishear now."

Jan feels overcome with emotion that his Master is so kind and understanding to a worthless boy. He whispers barely audible. "Master I feel my heart fill with love for you, Oh please, please let me be worthy of having such a Master."

The document then ends with a series of breathless boyish thanks and expressions on devotion to Don Carlos for freeing him from the thrall of his hateful mother and her evil boy friend.

***

Here I must remark on how fortunate I have been to have had the opportunity to work for Don Carlos and to observe for myself the way he can both break the spirit of a boy and at the same time win that boys love. A love that in the nature of things will never be reciprocated for the boy's are but whores and little better than animals.

Indeed it may be that here lies the explanation for the unprecedented events at the festival. Jan had been well broken. It had been a long and painful process but the job had been done in time. He loved Don Carlos. It is clear however his Mother and her hateful friend raised memories from the past that confused and worried the poor child. He hated and resented the pair of them. But hatred and resentment are not emotions proper to a Tribute Boy. Fear, terror and love that is what a Tribute Boy should feel and that indeed is what Jan felt for Don Carlos but there were these other feelings that confused the boy.

Chapter 10

Don Carlos speaks

Perhaps I will order him to tell me what he felt latter. I am satisfied that Jan will be fit in one week so I order him to return on the 7th June the night before the Germans arrive. I do hope Christopher is home by then. Jan must then formally request his release, and submit himself to my will with his chosen instruments of torture. I can hardly wait to find out his choice. Perhaps I should use this opportunity to share some of the techniques with my son? I tell Mishear that all though I am very pleased with him and grant him his with his wish, I will delay presenting him with his dagger until then. I feel it is more appropriate that both boys have their collars struck off at the same time. If Jan can endure long enough. Everything from that moment will be done together, train, dance, orgasm, I wonder how many times I will place my wagers on?, and die. I finally warn both boys that they may only experience orgasm from now through pain, they should take some special biology lessons with Anthony, he should start training them so that each can induce the other, for this is what I have planned for them. Other duties are suspended. However Jan must not be allowed to ejaculate until he presents himself to me. All boys are taught how to stop an orgasm just after it starts, they find it most frustrating. Finally I tell them that they can sleep here in the sun for a while, they curl together head to toe, brown and gold, like well trained boys they immediately start grooming. Tongues probe and clean each others abused anuses, but soon they fall asleep.

I realise I have been quite remiss. Christopher's letter and discussions with Maurice indicate that they do not understand my philosophy and methods entirely. If the one is going to lead one day and the other to make a full contribution they need do know more. Also for my friend Magic and Zelamire I have not adequately described the Hacienda and the facilities it offers, particularly those so that I can realise the full potential of my considerable investment in boy flesh. I apologise but my mind has been taken up with Christopher's initiation, the Hunt, and the Summer Festival. Choosing which boy will perform in which event will be difficult but I will send Maurice the Programme and my suggestions to see if he agrees, he can come and see me any time like all staff. I will now attend to all of this, but first I need a piss, I think Sky will be quite thirsty by now. Then I will release him, he will be touchingly grateful for both. I will not ride out this morning so he can attend me with Pedro, neither are on peak form this morning. Perhaps I should write a book?

Don Carlos continues

I sit at my computer in the office, Sky to one side and Pedro to the other kneel as they have been taught. Both seem to have very swollen testicles this morning, I reach down and cup Sky`s and he groans, I am sure he is going to run really well next time I ask him. I wonder about a little wager with Magic using him to see if fear or love is the swiftness? I will have to think about it. Now to work. When I started working with boys the Tribute scheme had only been running a few years. Most boys were just used as hard as possible for what remained of their miserable lives, their end short, messy and agonising. The contribution their suffering produced for their ageing parents barely adequate. All this I found much to my taste, I had read De Sade at school and taken by my father to see one of the pilot schemes in a village in Kent. Roman history had offered many clues, as did the use of boy actors in the Chinese Theatre, my father found an archive copy of the film Farewell my Concubine, though hardly explicit in these times, and I began to realise what it was that was missing for me.

Umur Patel considerably broadened my education, his practical demonstrations were always entertaining, especially the frequent climaxes that resulted. Many of his boys I used when I was resting after my field work, most did not work for some time after, a couple not at all.

One day he told me that he had a group of four who had asked for release, they would not fight in the village square as normal, so he suggested they just hang themselves for my entertainment. They filed on to the veranda and dutifully prepared their own ropes over the beams. They knew to get the length just right he said. Just high enough so they can scrabble the floor with the big toes after the neck had stretched a little, makes it last longer. The boys stood there slave collar replaced by rope collar. I saw their eyes, only fear was there, bodies glistening with the sweat of terror, shook. They would do anything for Umur, but only because they had been taught agonising day after agonising day to fear him so much.

It was this I saw in Jan's eyes, but now it is gone.

Umur clapped and in unison they stepped off their chairs, small boys pulled these clear. A chorus line of dancing naked brown bodies proved highly erotic, even more so when in their death agony one after another a penis strained upwards them fountained out spurt after spurt of creamy semen. One boy, the smallest, lasted over 30 min before the brown toes stopped trying to find a purchase on the rough wood, slimed with his own fluids. That night my boy was ridden as hard as any described by Burton, images of those struggling boys before my eyes, as his small body struggles under my thrusts. In the dawn I realise what was missing, like the Chinese boy concubine they had to be prepared to die for love.

Spain with all its tradition of blood, honour, sexuality and love epitomised in the Bull Ring would be one of the places to transform the Tribute Boy system into an art form, not an economic and demographic imperative. There are others equally excellent, Japan for instance with its revived cult of boys vassals to Samurai Tribute Masters, has come up with some very extreme variants. My philosophy is simple, like a good horse you break them with care and provide for their well being, but you expect everything from them in return.

This meant that unlike many places where Tribute Boys are kept, mine have pleasant surroundings, a certain amount of leisure and education as well as training. Their pain, their sexuality, and finally their death is what brings me my income, all these things give me great personal satisfaction as well. But why make them suffer in the times they are not doing these things for you and your clients, especially if that leads to a diminishing ability to perform what they are paid to do. Also I have a duty to the boys guardian, and to the Franchising Authority to maximise everybody's investment; Also these privileges make a boy love his Master, he can be controlled as easily by their withdrawal as by the whip. He must feel he is privileged to be my Tribute Boy, I make sure they see how some fare in the city with poorer masters. I do remind them that such boys provide only the most miserable of pensions for their families, where as mine can expect comfort, even wealth for their families. But everything lies in how you break him.

There is another reason for the good conditions the boys enjoy here when I permit it. My clients can go to a Tribute Master in any of their teeming cities and do whatever they like with his miserable brats, provided they can pay! Neither do they want to pick their boys out from some of the hovels I have seen. Here they see beautiful boys in fine grounds, on the beach, or in the mountains. They can fantasies about being in love with them, or what a good life they are lucky to have, if a short one. They still use the boys in every imaginable way, but they feel good about doing it. They pay well for it, but they pay even better to come and see the beautiful little boy they have played on the beach with, then bedded for the past few summers, in the Bull Ring a Muros in his death agonies, smooth brown body all ripped and broken.

For the boy his sense of love, obedience, honour, duty, must take him to his death willingly. His only hope is to perform with honour, perhaps to endure to be the winner, maybe allowed one last orgasm, then spread before his beloved Master be permitted to slice first genitals then belly. His glazing eyes will gaze on his Master with love. Very occasionally the President judges a performance not just exceptional, no less is expected, but one that will be forever remembered. In that case The President may stay the boy's hand either before or after the first cut. If before, the boy pledges his first two sons to his master, he does so with tears of joy and gratitude in his eyes. When the time comes, tell him and he will slit their throats for love of you, if that is what you wish. The only boy a Tribute Master can love is one that has proved himself in that way, but by then it is too late. The first to give my house this greatest of honours was Juan, who danced so divinely in front of so many bulls as his wounds and agonies increased. Old men in the bars of Muros still want to congratulate me about it. There were a few after him, but not many. Their sons will come when it is the time.

Christopher must come to understand these things, that is why before I accept him as my heir I have asked so much of him. If he can endure his own pain and ordeals, can train his boy to unquestioning love and obedience, and then comfort the lad in his final agonies after the boy had obediently slit his own belly for that love; then he will be worthy. He must do this without being emotionally involved himself. First he must understand about what a boy will do for love, maybe Jan can show him?

Tribute Boys are not inferior to free boys as some think they are just the same, that is why their sacrifice is so deeply satisfying.

Chapter 11

Preparations for the Carnival. A teacher – Maurice – tells the story

It was almost dark and as was my custom when I was on duty I was taking a last walk round the boy's sties, checking all was quiet after lights out before going back to my own bungalow. I was startled by the sound of a quite sob, or perhaps rather a sniffle, coming from the dimly lit entrance to one of the sties. If it had been one containing boys in their first or second year of tribute I would have though nothing of it. There were plenty of boy tears shed in those as the brats cried for their Mummies and Daddies and little brothers and sisters or experienced the miseries of the breaking process.

This sty however was occupied by three boys well into their tribute time. The youngest was in his fifth year and by then generally the boys were reconciled to their lot. Indeed this particular three were generally lively and cheerful. Usually I would have expected to hear whispering together with the occasional giggling as I approached followed by a sudden guilty silence when I 'accidentally' scraped my foot against the ground to warn them that I was about and they had best be quiet if they didn't want me ducking inside and warming their bottoms with my strap.

There was another half smothered sob and reluctantly for I had hoped for an early night, ducked through the low door to investigate. In the dim light from the low powered bulb set in the roof I could see a single young boy lying naked on the sleeping bench. He was facing the wall and so sunk in misery that he had not heard me enter.

I shook my head and sighed to myself. I knew the boys in summer commonly choose to sleep without bedding curling up together to get warmth from each other's bodies choosing not to use their sarongs so as not to dirty them. That worked all right when there were two or three together but this boy lying by himself would have cold added to what ever emotional miseries were bothering him. If he had wrapped himself in the sarong he would have at least have had some warmth but he had scorned this and the length of cotton no doubt was lying immaculately laundered and pressed inside his box under the bench with his other meagre personal possessions.

I reached out my hand and laid it on the child's bare thigh. His flesh was cold to my touch. I felt him tense then he twisted round and relaxed when he recognised me.

"Vass," I said identifying the boy by his platinum blond hair, "not Jan. All alone tonight then?"

"Yes Sir, Mishear and Jan were both summoned by Don Carlos but I wasn't." He sniffed loudly again.

'So the time had come for Mishear's testing and Jan has been summoned to watch and assist,' I thought. I knew it would be a time of terror for both boys and of acute suffering for Jan but I also knew that to point this out to Vass would be no consolation to him in his loneliness and despair. They had been chosen, he had not, by the man they loved above all others. That was what had moved the little whore to tears of real misery.

I shifted my hand slightly up the back of his thigh so that it was resting on the curve of his bottom the tips of my finger pressing gently into his crack. He wriggled appreciatively.

"Come on Vass," I said cheerfully, "that's not the end of the world. There's plenty of times you've spent the night away from here. You're as popular a little tart as any on the Hacienda."

"Do you think so really Sir?" He said eagerly. "You see I'm the only child and we're very poor. I must make lots of money or my Mum and Dad will starve when they're old."

"Don't worry," I said reassuringly tightening my grip on his little bum. "You've done pretty well up to now and I bet you'll make a lot more before you're released. Do you want to do anything in the carnival this year."

"Yes Sir. I thought may be Don Carlos would let me run in the morning boy coursing Sir. I'm a good runner and I've been training when ever I can. I hope he'll let me gain my release in the boy coursing too in the end. I think I've got a good chance to run the whole course and boys who do that make a lot of money don't they Sir?"

"Yes they do Vass. I'll tell you what. Don Carlos hasn't said anything yet but I'm sure he'll be thinking of entering boy's for the carnival soon and he's certain to talk it over with me when he does. I'll mention you to him."

"Would you Sir… Oh thank you Sir."

"I wouldn't do it if I didn't know you really were a good runner, Vass," I said amused at the boy's gratitude. Indeed I had noticed him more than once during the boys early morning run always the first among the fifth years and often well ahead of most of the sixth and seventh year boys. I was sure he would not let me down.

"Now," I continued. "You'd better come along with me. I can't have my recommendation for the junior boy's coursing getting a cold in the head."

"Oh Sir… Thank you Sir," the little lad said swinging his legs over the side of the bench and springing eagerly to his feet.

I ducked out of the sty and set off towards my bungalow. I could hear Vass's bare feet padding along close behind me. A small cool hand was slipped into mine. I smiled quietly. Don Carlos had often remarked to me how boys had to attach themselves to somebody in authority and how that could be turned to advantage in managing them. He was quite right of course, as he was about most things when it came to the exploitation of boys.

***

I lent back in my chair enjoying the feel of the cool morning air against my bare skin. I had finished my breakfast and Vass having feasted royally on my scraps was kneeling between my legs his face pressed into my crutch cleaning it of the filth left from the night's fun before I had a shower. I glanced down at his blonde little head as his quick tongue and soft lips teased my cock and balls. I felt myself harden and Vass looked quickly up at me a smile of pleasure on his face. I put my hand on the top of his head and gently pressed down. The boy grinned and burying his face between my legs returned to his task.

At that moment Sky walked into the room. He stood just inside the dining room balanced on the balls of his feet his right leg slightly advanced, back straight, head bowed and hands open loosely by the side of his thighs. I was glad to see that he was beginning to profit from the schooling he was receiving from Don Carlos. Very few boys failed to do so. I noticed that he had known better then to knock before entering. To have done so would have been a solecism of the first order which even I in my currently relaxed state could not have overlooked. It would have suggested that there were things that I would prefer a mere slave boy not to see, as if what a slave boy saw or did not see was of any importance at all.

It was clear that Sky had been sent with a message for me but I had other priorities on my and I let the boy wait.

I leaned back in my chair and looked down at the Vass's flaxen topped head pressed against my crutch. It's movements became more rapid and vigorous as my cock hardened and Vass redoubled his efforts to bring me to a climax. Over and over again with increasing tempo he ran his lips along my rod's full length taking it right down into his throat whose sides pressed convulsively against it before leaning back to snatch a lung full of air retaining only it's tip in his mouth. Lips tongue and throat were all used to excite me. I felt myself on the verge of coming and placing a hand on the back of his head I pulled it hard into my body. My cock jerked and I began to pump great gouts of man's juice into his throat.

Vass swallowed desperately. I released my hold on his head and he pulled back. He looked up into my eyes cum dribbling down his chin a triumphant smile on his face and then he bent back again to lick at the tip of my prick from which cum still dribbled. No doubt he was fearful that he would get a beating if he allowed my floor to be soiled.

"Well what is it boy?" I demanded of Sky.

"Sir, please Sir, Don Carlos's complements and could you join him for coffee at 11 o'clock for a general discussion of the arrangements while he is away at the Balkan slave market and could you please bring the Tribute Boy Cheung with you."

"Damn," I said that means finding Cheung and he could be pretty well any where."

"Sir," Vass said apparently satisfied that he had drained me for the moment at least, "I think you will find him at Mr Anthony's, Sir. Mr Anthony was using him for some electrical experiments."

I laughed. What it was to be young and keen. I could remember when I was young Anthony's age and always involved in research instead of just content to enjoy myself.

"Thanks Vass," I said glancing at my watch. "It's half past nine now so there's ample time for a shower go and turn it on for me. You can share it too and then come with me to Don Carlos and I'll speak about you running in the junior coursing."

"Oh Sir, thank you Sir," Vass cried jumping to his feet. As he left the room he gave his pert little bum a provocative wriggle. I wondered if I would manage it again. I had a good hour and I thought I probably would.

"Tell your Master that I will be with him at eleven." I said to Sky dismissing him.

Before setting out to Anthony's bungalow I called Vass to me and entered four very well deserved credit points in the counter attached to his collar.

It was clear from the shrill screams that we could hear long before we reached his place that Anthony was busy with his researches. I found him in the yard at the back of the bungalow. He had Cheung strapped prone on his shoulders on a stout picnic table, his ankles pulled back so that his knees were raised and parted. an electrode suspended from a wire just an inch or so above the junction of the boy's legs. Cheung had stopped screaming for the moment but he was clearly beside himself with terror his almond eyes wide and glazed with pain a white froth running from between his lips. That it was sensible of Anthony to conduct his experiments out of the house was shown by the pool of yellowish fluid under the table. The boy had clearly peed himself.

"Sorry to disturb you Anthony," I said I am afraid I have to take Cheung from you. Don Carlos wants him."

"Oh very well," Anthony said resignedly, "I can have him back to work on later, I suppose."

"Of course you can unless Don Carlos has something else in mind for him. What precisely are you trying to establish anyway."

"Oh it's an idea of mine to do away with the need for cock rings for these boys. You know the problem. Boys go so much more often and quicker than adults and we fasten cock rings to slow them down and keep them stiff longer. I thought we could achieve the same results by the use of aversion therapy and it's working." Anthony spoke with all the enthusiasm of a young man.

"That electrode there, over the boy's cock is live. Every time he gets an erection his cock touches the electrode and he gets a good strong jolt of electricity. Well I've brought him to an erection fifteen times this morning with my finger up his bum and the time taken to achieve an erection has increased from 8.45 to 15.76 seconds. Look I'll show you."

He advanced on the boy.

"Please Sir Please," Cheung begged miserably.

"Do stop making such a fuss boy. Don't be a cry baby now," Anthony snapped pushing his finger into the poor child.

Cheung moaned and wriggle but in the end he could not deny his nature. His little boy's prick hardened and rose and touched the electrode. Cheung screamed hoarsely his body twisting as the current surged through him.

"There you are," Anthony said triumphantly checking his stop watch, "15.89 it's increasing all the time. Well we'll have to finish for now but once Don Carlos has finished with you, you come back here and we'll continue, although he's asked me up there for a discussion at midday bringing notes on the boys in the final year of tribute with me, so you may have to wait till I get back from that."

"Yes Sir," Cheung said dutifully. It seemed to me there was a noticeable lack of enthusiasm his voice.

"Well off you go then," Anthony said once Cheung was back on his feet. "Now let me see. I suppose I'd better give you one credit point. It would have been two, you know, if you hadn't made such a noise."

Once we were out of Anthony's sight I stopped Cheung and made an entry on his points counter. I did not tell him what the entry was and he knew better than to ask me.

We were just walking through the pine wood which lay between the staff bungalows and Don Carlos's plaza when we met a long standing client Monsieur Durcet. A short fat French man he was strolling towards us clearly enjoying the cool shade of the wood. Like many of our guests he chose to walk round naked in the warm weather apart from a pair of trainers. He stopped to chat.

I was amused as always to note the different ways in which guests and Tribute Boys examined each other. The boys, of course, were obliged to stand still with straight backs and slightly bowed heads until spoke to. That did however did not prevent them from casting covert glances of inspection at their betters. Their gaze, I had long ago noted, always being directed solely at the cocks and balls of their superiors. This I think is wholly understandable as it these parts of their masters' bodies with which they are most likely to be primarily concerned. The men's inspection of the boys is always more general and wholly open. So Monsieur Durcet stood talking idly to me openly eyeing up the two little pretty little whores that accompanied me, while the boys, in their turn, surreptitiously eyed the fat man's club like cock that jutted from the dark hairy pelt that covered his whole body. Having exhausted the weather and his dislike of Germans as a subject of conversation Monsieur Durcet raised the subject that was from the beginning foremost in his mind.

"You're keeping these two boys for yourself?" He asked. "That is understandable with such beautiful little animals but hardly generous."

"No, no," I replied laughing, "Cheung is required by Don Carlos so I don't know how long he will be. Vass though I'm just taking up to the house to show him and he will certainly be free in half an hour so."

I didn't bother to explain which was which. That was obvious at a glance.

"Vass eh? Well let's have a look at you boy." I could almost hear the French man salivating.

Vass smiling shyly turned slowly round so that the man could get a full view of his boyish charms.

"Well he's certainly a nice looker. Is his performance as good as his looks?"

"I can assure you from personal experience it is," I said firmly.

"I m going down to the river below the falls at noon," Durcet said addressing Vass in the harsh tones of command appropriate to a Tribute Boy, "meet me there."

"Yes Sir thank you Sir," Vass said humbly and then as Durcet walked off, "and thank you Sir for speaking so well of me."

"No more than you deserve," I replied cheerfully, "you are a good little whore."

Vass blushed with pleasure at this compliment.

***

Don Carlos had chosen because of the fine weather to sit out on the terrace overlooking the sea. He stood up as I approached. His manners to his clients and subordinates are always impeccable. Vass and Cheung dropped to their knees and prostrated themselves before their master, their faces pressed to the ground their lovely boys bottoms pushed up into the air a position that was as humiliating to adopt as it was delightful to observe.

"Ah Maurice good of you to come so promptly. We will have coffee here in a moment."

At these words one of the serving boys on attendance scuttled off towards the house.

"So you've brought young Vass with you as well as Cheung?"

"Yes Sir," I relied, "you mentioned in your message that you wanted to discuss entries for the festival and I happened to have Vass with me at the time your message was delivered."

"Did you indeed," Don Carlos interjected with a grin, "I hope he managed to satisfy you?"

"He managed very well. And," I continued, "I thought I'd bring him along with me because I think he would be a good prospect for the junior coursing event. He's the best runner we have for his age and he's better than many of the boys in their fifth or even sixth year of tribute."

"I've noticed him in the mornings," Don Carlos said quietly. And then to Vass. "Well boy stand up so that I can have a look at you now."

Vass scrambled to his feet and stood still as Don Carlos carried out a meticulous examination of his body. I noticed how almost as soon as his Master's hand touched him the boy's little prick sprang to attention. It was remarkable how every boy in the place was in love with Don Carlos.

"Nice little bum you've got," Don Carlos remarked running his hands over it and squeezing the boy's bottom. Vass wriggled with pleasure and excitement.

"Had quite a few men's cock up it I would think eh?"

"Yes Sir," Vass said breathlessly.

"Good little whore," Don Carlos said approvingly causing Vass to wriggle with pleasure again.

"And good strong legs too," Don Carlos said pinching his thighs. "But strong legs aren't everything you need for the coursing field. The spears are sharp and the men quick and cruel you need courage as well as speed. Are you brave enough, Vass?"

"Oh Yes Master," the boy breathed.

"It's likely the young Master will be riding in the boy coursing. Do you know what would shame him more than failing himself."

"If one of our boys disgraced us. That's what would shame him and it would shame me as well. You don't want to shame us do you, child? You want to make us proud don't you?"

"Master yes Master Please," Vass panted.

"Well we've got some German hunters coming and I'm giving them a practice coursing day before they try in earnest on the Picos. You do well in the practice and show me how good you are and maybe I'll let you run in the festival… Now off with you to Monsieur Durcet and give him a good time too."

Don Carlos dismissed Vass with a smart smack with the flat of his hand across his rump. The boy trotted off his prick erect and wobbling as he ran.

"Now Cheung we'll have a look at you, get up quick boy."

Cheung scrambled to his feet. It was his turn for his body to be subjected to a minute examination by his Master. Again the boy was quickly roused to a state of extreme sexual excitement.

"I'm pleased with you Cheung," Don Carlos said when he had finished examining the boy. He took the boy's chin between his finger and thumb and looked down into his face. "Very pleased. The best little athlete we've got and good reports on you from everyone. Mr Anthony said you were one of the liveliest boys to fuck in the whole of the fifth year of tribute. I must try you some time."

"Oh Please Master Please," the lad begged eagerly.

"Let's see how you've done today." Don Carlos said checking the counter fastened to the boy's collar. "Four merit points all ready," he explained excellent. Cheung flashed me a look of gratitude with his big almond eyes.

"Now look at me Cheung. Look into my eyes. Do you want to please me Cheung?" He asked earnestly staring once again into the boy's face.

"Master Yes Master."

"I want you to ask me to grant you your release. Ask me child. Ask me." Don Carlos gently stroked the side of boy's face with his thumb.

"What ever you want Master."

"You must ask me boy."

"Please grant me my release Master," the boy whispered obediently.

"I do my child I do and it will be a release such as Tribute Boy's dream of pleasing to your Master profitable to your pension fund and if you are obedient and work hard, as quick a release as a boy can attain. Now I must see if you are fit. You see that bar behind me," Don Carlos waived at a structure made of scaffolding set on the terrace. A cross bar supported by four uprights with a spring board beneath it.

"You see in the middle of the cross bar a white mark. Do you think you can jump up high enough to catch hold of the cross bar each side of the white mark."

Cheung nodded.

"Well let's see you then."

Cheung ran forward and flexing his legs on the spring board leapt high into the air and catching hold of the cross bar his feet swing well clear of the ground.

Don Carlos picked up a cattle prod from the table by which he was standing and walked over to where Cheung hung.

"Now pull yourself up so your chins against the bar. That's right good boy. Now lift your knees up to your chest. Right up quickly now."

As Cheung struggled to obey this last order Don Carlos touched the soul of one foot with the prod. The boy squealed in pain and miraculously his knees were at that moment pressed against his chest.

"Amazing what boys can manage when properly encouraged," Don Carlos remarked to me with a smile.

"Now Cheung lower yourself slowly keeping your knees bent."

As Cheung slowly straightened his arms Don Carlos's secretary busied himself positioning a hefty wooden baulk topped by a small rubber sheaved spike beneath the boy. I saw Cheung's face register terror as he felt the spike pressing up into him.

"Come on now boy," Don Carlos commanded, "all the way down. You've had bigger things up there than that tiny spike. "Now up again."

At that moment there was a sound of excited boyish shouting and round the side of the house came Christopher grinning broadly wearing his diminutive boy's shorts and a light leather jerkin of the finest leather. Behind him was a crowd of naked cheering whooping Tribute Boys obviously overjoyed by the return of their young Master. Seeing Don Carlos the boys fell silent and prostrated themselves.

Christopher walked straight up to his father and threw his arms around them. For a moment Father and son embraced.

"It great to be back Dad," Christopher said stepping back.

"I'm very glad you're here," Don Carlos replied gravely.

"What's up with that brat? Christopher said nodding at Cheung who was in the absence of further orders was hanging grimly with his chin up to the bar.

"He's called Cheung and the first thing you must do Christopher is to learn the names of all the Tribute Boys. You'll never get the most out of them unless you know them."

"Cheung lower yourself now… Watch what is happening Christopher.. Keep your back straight now Cheung and head back. That's right. Imagine there's a rod going right up through you and out of your mouth. Right down on the spike …and up again."

"Cheung is part of a special entertainment I'm laying on after the Festival Christopher," Don Carlos explained to his son speaking clearly so that Cheung could hear what he was saying. "On the day itself there will be a long thin stainless steel spear stuck in the ground under the boy. When his strength fails he will fall down onto the spear so that he will be simultaneously killed and spitted for roasting. His performance and there will be at least one other boy on the bar with him so we can have bets on endurance and so on to liven the fun up will be the prelude to the main entertainment of the evening and his body will be roasted and eaten during that performance."

"You'll be competing against another boy, Cheung, a slave of Mistress Magic's," Don Carlos said reaching up and squeezing one of the lads buttocks between his fingers and thumb in such a way that his thumb nail pressed into the boy's anus. "You won't let me down will you boy?"

"No Master," the boy gasped his body beginning to shake from the strain of holding himself up to the bar.

"You'll beat that boy of Magic's won't you Cheung? When he looses his grip on the bar and screams as the spike enters his body you'll still be up there won't you? I've got a thousand Euros depending on that boy. And you'll go on for longer still, although your arms are aching and your head swimming with exhaustion you'll hang there with the point of the spike where my thumb is now while the crowd screams and yells in excitement waiting for the moment when your strength fails and you too attain your release. You'll do that too won't you?"

"Yes Master Yes."

"And maybe Cheung if you can hang on long enough, just maybe if the crowd cry loud enough for your release I will be able to grant you your freedom and then like Juan you can breed boys for my service. You'd like that wouldn't you boy?"

"Yes Master."

"Don Carlos stepped closer to the boy and prodded his smooth young thigh with his index finger

"You can see he's got a good deal of good firm flesh there," he remarked.

"Is there any difference in flavour Dad between races. I mean does a Japanese boy taste different from a European or a Negro."

"Well some people claim they can tell a difference but I don't think there's a difference at all. Not that you'd notice not like that between a boy whose been worked hard and a gelding whose been allowed a soft time. You can tell the difference then."

"Any way Christopher… You asked if you could help training the boys this year and you can start now with Cheung."

"Use this prod to keep him moving. Keep count of the number of times he pulls himself up. Some time quite soon I think he'll let go of the bar and say he can't go on any longer. He'll believe that to be so. It's your job to persuade him with the aid of this thing otherwise. I generally find that a boy if he's driven hard enough can do about one and a half times again what he did before he gave up in the first place. He may try all sorts of things; let go of the bar and lie on the floor crying but just keep pushing the prod into him and he'll find he can do just a bit more."

"Once though you've got him there though make a fuss of him. Tell him he's a good boy and you're proud of how hard he's tried pet him and ruffle his hair and kiss him let him suck your cock or fuck him yourself if you want to."

"It's the carrot and the stick you need to get the best out of boys. In reverse order though first the stick then the carrot."

"All right you get on with that while I discuss the arrangements for managing this place with Maurice while you and I are away inspecting the merchandise in the Balkan boy marts."

"Anthony," he said speaking to me directly, "I and Hassan and Christopher are going to be away now for a few days. I'd like you to mind the shop while we're away. I have every confidence in you and so do the boys. That is to say they know you and know where they are with you. I don't anticipate any difficulties in that area at all."

"I am going to ask Anthony to take immediate charge of the arrangements for the festival. It's the first time that he has undertaken that task. He's young and keen and eager. Just keep a watching brief on him would you and where necessary offer him a guiding hand. If he encounters problems it will be from over enthusiasm nothing else."

"Of course Sir," I said cheerfully. I remembered the first time I had been landed with the festival arrangement and the panic I had felt as I realised that effectively the whole reputation of the Hacienda had been entrusted to me.

At that moment Anthony appeared hurrying around the side of the plaza a bulky file under his arm.

"Good morning Sir, Christopher," he said and nodded at me. "I brought the papers on the final year boys. I suppose you want to fix the program with Anthony. If I could do anything to help…," he added hopefully.

"You are going to do more than help Anthony," Don Carlos said with a small smile, "you, if you will be so kind will take charge of the festival arrangements. Here is a copy of the program.""

Anthony's mouth dropped open and I saw panic flash across his face. To help was one thing. To be in charge quite another. Don Carlos's smile broadened as he watched the effect of his announcement on the young man.

"If I can help in anyway Anthony," I intervened taking pity on him, "please let me know. It is a lot for one person and when I had charge of it everybody was very generous with their time."

I was interrupted by the sound of Cheung crashing to the ground followed by a shrill scream of pain as Christopher used the prod to persuade him to return to his place on the bar. I waited for the noise to die away and once the lad was back in place continued.

"I suppose what you want to do straight away really now you have a copy of the program is to run through the final year boys we have available and decide the events for which they can be entered.. You told me a couple of days ago you had prepared a list of the boys."

Anthony glanced at me thankfully and extracted a sheet of paper from his file

"Well we have twenty one boys all told in their final year and while the festival is the big event of the season I assume you wouldn't want to use all of them. You would want to keep some back for other occasions. That's certainly been the practice in past years. So I've sorted fourteen names out."

Don Carlos nodded approvingly.

"Well first there are our problem boys, Xavier and Richie they came to us via the penal program and they've taken a lot of breaking. They're tough little brutes though and always getting into fights and taking knocks. I thought the quarter staff contest for both of them.

Don Carlos nodded approvingly. boys and looking quickly at the programme I would suggest the following," he said recovering his confidence quickly.

"Then there's Garcia. He's been talking about fighting bulls ever since his first year of tribute. It's in his blood so now I would suggest he gets his wish."

"Ahmed he's quick and agile and has a good eye. A natural with the knife."

"Tim spends all his spare time wind surfing and is very expert at it."

"Tunc is excellent at wrestling while Manuel is good on a horse."

"Then there's Jonathan. I don't know about him. A lovely affectionate boy. No trouble at all ever. What he's really good at is singing and making love. He'll have to make his choice sometime though and I thought if he chooses not to compete his gelding could be quite entertaining."

"Finally Sir, I know how keen you are on the whale boat competition I thought we could produce a team with Rodolfo and Miguel rowing. It's what they are used to and they work well as a team. Christian steering and Kumu as harpooner. The sea is in both those lads blood and the Negro is excellent with the spear."

"Yes, very good," Don Carlos said, "We'll have to start training straight away. I'll take charge of the whale boat crew. The rest I leave up to you."

"Could you arrange then Dinner before I go for me to award the boys their daggers. Apart from the boys you mentioned there'll be Mishear, Jan and Cheung. Christopher and I will attend and although Christopher will of course eat at the top table with me he will also be awarded a dagger. That's about he only thing in common between my son and those whores."

Chapter 12a

Jan prepares for his ordeal, and remembers earlier times

It is the last afternoon before I have to present myself to Don Carlos so that he can test me to see if I am worthy to dance with my friend Mishear. I have spent all week talking to my friend about what instruments I should ask him to present to our Master. I have nearly decided but the thought of them makes me nearly loose control of my bladder like a little unbroken boy before he understands how to love his Master. This last afternoon I play and swim on the beach with my friend, lots of clients come up and look at us in that way we know means they want us to serve them, but they go away with other boys. I guess our Master must have put us on his taboo list. I wonder if our Master's son Christopher will be there when I am tested? He looks so worthy an heir for our Master as he rides and exercises, nearly naked like us but his fine loin cloth and head band set him apart, even if you can't see his expression. I am sad to know I will not see him chosen to succeed. The warm sun and salt eases our aching bodies. We have spent all morning in the yard practising till every fibre aches. I look at the sea and the mountains and think this is a beautiful place, so much better than the city where I grew. I grow drowsy and as I sleep I remember how I came here.

***

I woke in the holding pens behind the stadium, and nearly passed out again with the pain from my brand. The stench of fear, sick, piss and shit and the constant wailing of little boys in agony drills through me, they are all much smaller than me, probably First Tribute. There is only a trough of foul smelling water and I crawl over and drink a little, but I am sick all over a small Chinese boy, he does not even notice. I pass out again. when I come too my head is banging down some steps and I am being dragged by my ankles by the Recording Officer. He pull me into an outside yard and gets a hose a squirts the filth off me, its so very cold and I yell.

"Thought that would wake you up! Now stand!"

I groggily struggle to my feet.

"Follow!" he commands. I can do no other. We go through corridors full of men, but no body sees me in my misery. He opens a door into an office, perhaps he has found out there has been a mistake and I can go home to my mummy? I begin to snivel.

"Shut up you little brat and listen!"

I begin to tell him that there has been a mistake and he should take me home, I get as far as the address and then he laughs. Then he hits me hard in the belly. I double up but he grasps my hair and pull me upright.

"I said listen, not bleat, you have no home, you are a Tribute Boy now, until you are granted release. Unless somebody finishes you off before that! Understand!"

I only half understand, but nod through my tears.

"Now dry your tears and I will give you your good news."

My heart leaps. Come here he tells me and I approach where he is standing, he seems kind now. He rubs his hands down my sides and back, and over my bottom. It starts feeling good and I wriggle a little. His hand moves round to my belly and down to my cock, like always its hard, and he plays with it. It feels better than when uncle Roger did it. But he stops.

"You, my little whore are going to Spain to have my friend Charles as your Master. It will be like a holiday. Are you pleased."

"Yes I would like," I manage to answer, but I did not understand then.

"And I will be coming to see you, so you must show me how much you are grateful to me." He undid his belt and dropped his trousers, he had no pants and his cock stuck up huge out of a hairy belly. He grabbed my hair and forced me to my knees, and head into his cock.

"Open that mouth and suck me like a good little whore!" he ordered, but I could not. He laughed again and with one hand pulled my head right back and with the other rubbed his cock very fast. Suddenly he gave a cry and out of the end shot spurt after spurt of thick white stuff, into my eyes, into my nose, into my mouth, into my hair, and it dripped down on to my chest.

"Oh but you will my boy, so very soon, you will be pleading for it!"

He was gasping. Then he pulled up his pants and pushed me outside again. there was a small wire cage and he shoved me inside, only enough room to curl up in misery. He locked the door.

"See you in Spain, Jan boy, then your fun will really begin."

I do not remember much of the long wait in the cage in the wet cold airport, or the loading with other cargo, including some more cages like mine. Not much of the flight in the plane, and an even longer wait in the hot sun. Then a very big black man holding a whip, and four naked big boys came with a truck.

"Will you promise not to run?" One of them asks.

"Yes, I promise."

I am so cramped I can not stand when they pull me out so they lift me and toss me in the back of the truck. They tie my hands and feet anyway. The drive was long, hot and dusty, the boys have leather skins and squirt water into their mouths.

One says "What's your name?"

"Jan."

"Jan, want to drink?" I nod.

"Just open your mouth and swallow, its very good practice for later!" I do and he aims the squirt into my mouth. After spluttering and choking a bit at first I soon get the idea.

"Well done Jan!" he says.

We drive up a rough track, I see glimpses of blue sea, barren mountains, and sweet smelling pine trees. We drive through wooden gates beneath an arch, stop, and I am hauled out to lie in the sand. The yard is full of naked boys of all colours and sizes, they are all staring at me. The truck drives off. A man comes and orders some of the boys to lift me.

"Take him to the sty with Mishear and Vass and chain him, You! You little brat better not runaway like Dominic, who was there before you, you will see why when we catch the little bastard!"

They carry me into a little shed with one door and a small window. They put me on a wooden platform, there is straw, lock a chain to my collar and untie me. They give me a little water and leave closing the door. Outside there are the sounds that lots of boys make when they are together, but every now and then there is a crack and a squeal. Later there is silence except for some body reading. A very dark boy comes in, he has long hair and is older than me, but no bigger. He carries a bowl of rice and a bucket of water.

"I am Mishear, I will wash you, then you can eat."

His hands over my filthy aching body are gentle, he washes the man's stuff off my face and out of my hair, and combs it.

"I am Jan." I tell him. Then he feeds me. Outside the reading stops, and the sounds; a swish, a crack and then … sometimes silence, sometimes a little cry, and sometimes a scream; start. I jerk in fear.

"Don't worry, I will be your friend and help you."

Later the other boy – white to Mishear's black – comes in, he looks younger.

"I am Vass."

It is dark. Mishear spreads a piece of cloth for me to lie on, it stops the straw pricking me. He curls up next to me and his body feels warm and comfortable. I reach for his cock to show him my thanks, but he gently slaps my hand and says, "You must never do that to your self, or another boy, otherwise they will cut it off!"

I am silent I do not understand anything here.

"Tomorrow they will start training you, you must be brave and learn fast." He kisses me on the lips, it feels nice.

"You can be my little brother instead of Bahji …" I sleep.

***

I wake as Mishear kisses me.

"Are you ready Jan, it is time to get ready. You have to be brave and show him your love. If you're are really good maybe he will let you come, or even fuck you!"

I wish that I will be good enough for this to happen as we walk back up to the Stock Yard to clean and prepare ourselves in the same way as we did for Mishear's testing.

Chapter 12b

Jan remembers continued, then tells of the start of his ordeal

Now I am clean inside and outside for my Masters pleasure, the twins and Mishear have been meticulous in preparing me. My golden body gleams from the oils, in my blond hair are plaited red ribbons, I hope he likes the colour he said that red suited my body colour once. More ribbons are tied just below my knees, I have no jewellery like Mishear, boys do not usually get such gifts until they are in their sixth year. I spin and turn a few times and my friends clap with squeals of "Oh doesn't Jan look sexy!"

Suddenly Mishear looks serious, he goes to pick up the leather satchel, "You have to choose now Jan, otherwise we will be late, you know he said to be there before dinner and wait."

My insides churn as I go across to the cupboard and take out my first choice, it is leather box lined with velvet, inside is a long quite thick awl for piercing a boys body, and a range of stainless steel rings for insertion. I have been a little selfish in this because I am envious of Mishear's ringed nipples, and he did sat when a client twisted them it made him squirm well. Perhaps, Don Carlos will think I am worthy to have the base metal replaced with silver or gold? I give it to Mishear and he nods. Next I take out a bigger box. Inside this are two small leather harnesses for a boys balls and cock, on the underside there is a ring that when you pull on it restricts it further. One set is particularly cruel, on the inside it is studded with small sharp spikes, like a drawing pin. There is also a choke chain collar like the ones used for breaking boys, I still remember its use with horror, and a numbers of chains with clips either end. I give it to Mishear, he looks into my eyes and says "Oh, Jan…"

I have one more choice, this is what has been bothering me, but now I have decided. Last year there was a reading at table about a boy called Giton long ago in France. It was his Master's pleasure, to use this on him, but the kind Master also permitted the boy to have pleasure at the same time, Perhaps my Master will be so kind, but I do not think I can stand the pain… In the box I pass to Mishear are a pair of pincers.

"Jan, are you sure?"

I just nod, to frightened to speak.

"Then I pray to St Antonius, that you can be brave enough, and it will please him. I will be close to you too remember!"

We enter the room where we performed, was it only a week ago? There is no fire pit this time, we just stand inside the door. He beckons and we approach the dais and kneel together, Itu and Ino on either side. We kneel as we have been taught, thighs spayed wide, buttocks pressed into the floor between the heels, backs straight, hands behind our necks, and eyes cast down. We wait a long time, he is talking very seriously to Christopher, I hear odd words like 'ordeal', 'mignon', 'hunt' and 'worthy'. It makes little sense to a boy like me … I think how much I love this man and his fine son, can a boy like me be possibly worthy to prove that love with the most special of gifts, that of my life? I have seen many in this place who have so honoured their Master, but the first I saw here was not like that, it was disgraceful and disgusting, even to the untrained boy I was then. With what justice my Master deal with that miserable boy. My mind drifts back to a few days after my arrival here …

***

The first few days I was kept locked up, a man they called 'The Vet' came and dressed my brand and examined every part of my body. "Yes, definitely a virgin still, unusual for this age, I'm sure that Don Carlos will want to market that, probably make a good gymnast or dancer, I'll suggest to the boss that we team him with this one, nice colour contrast, as they seem to be friends? Same size though the black one is one season older, that's what early diet does." All this to another man with him.

Then to Mishear. "Show him what to do with this boy, it's a good size for him to start with."

He handed him a piece of polished wood. That night Mishear had me lie on my back with Vass holding my ankles up by my shoulders. He used something oily out of a pot to rub into my arse hole.

"This is very precious, we have to save up Obols to buy it at the shop, but it helps a lot." The feeling was quite good and it made my little prick rise.

"He's going to be a good little whore!" said Vass.

Then I screamed as Mishear shoved the little wooden plug into my guts, I struggled but both boys held and comforted me until the worst passed. The next day The Vet came back and told Mishear that he could exercise me and show me what to do.

"Not out of the stock yard on your own mind, if he runs you'll end up with your mate Dominic, once we catch him!"

I understood nothing. We showered, swam, went on runs. The place was more beautiful than I could have dreamed of. I did not go to lessons but was taught to kneel as I now do, for long painful hours. I was allowed to dance a little with my new class, awkward to Mishear's grace, but the Tutor did not seem angry with my stumbling attempts. For meals I sat at the long wooden tables on benches. These had a hole for our wooden plug to screw into, and we had to sit with them up inside us. Some of the bigger boys seemed to wriggle about a lot on their big plugs and get very hard, if a Tutor saw them they got whacked with a leather strap. I felt shamed that I was the only bigger boy to have to eat my rice out of my wooden bowl with my fingers as the very little ones do. The bigger boys have a knife, fork and spoon like when I was free, my eyes fill with tears at the thought. James says:

"Don't cry Jan, if you are brave I will ask for you as my Mignon for next years Festival!"

He strokes my thigh and it feels good. Some of the big boys have very fine porcelain bowls. One boy after another stands up to read a story, a poem, to sing or to play the pipes. The big people sit under the roof on the side of the yard where the very big building is. That is where I first saw my Master Don Carlos. Each day a different class is called up to stand in front of him. The boys who do not have enough merits have to stand with legs apart and hands on their knees, bums stuck out and spread. I can see their holes. They then get whacked with a cane, some cry. I notice that these ones often get taken away after by one of the big people who are watching. When our class stand up Don Carlos calls me over to him, I can't help myself and I feel the piss dribbling down my legs as he stares into my eyes.

"So you are Jan, my friend William was right, you are a special beauty. He will be here in two weeks to break you. Till then keep out of trouble and do what you are told…"

Then with his riding crop he switched the end of my cock. I screamed but knew enough not to run.

"And do try to stop pissing when I look at you like a first year…"

He turned to talk to other people, but they seemed to be talking about me, and I felt myself go very red.

Then one meal time nobody spoke, no jokes and little touches under the table. A whisper went round that Dominic had been caught and was up at the big house. The boys seemed both frightened and embarrassed. Don Carlos called two bigger boys out, one was James. Don Carlos stood up.

"Tribute Boy Dominic has been brought back here. He is accused of running away and will be tried tomorrow. These two boys will speak one for him and one against him. Don Pablo and I will judge. The priest will also come. There will no meals after breakfast until sentence, or pardon has bee carried out. The Trial will start at noon."

We left to go to our sties, all silent. I cuddled up to Vass and Mishear but was too terrified to ask what it all meant. The next day everything was done in silence and at noon we knelt in our classes facing the dais where the big people eat. After a long time some cars drew up, we could not look round. A procession entered, two figures in purple silk with tall pointed hats covering their faces led, followed by a man in black and white, the judges and the priest. James and the other boy followed, naked oiled bodies gleaming, walking proud with the honour their Master had allowed them. They each had purple sashes. The three sat facing us, the boys standing either side. We waited. There was a commotion and two figures in the same hoods only in black entered. Between them, bucked and struggled a terrified brown haired boy, about six or seven. His body looked starved and he seemed to have been beaten. The black guards, released him and one put his foot against the boys bum and set him sprawling in the dust at the judges feet.

"Please, please… Master spare me, I won't run again…"

His terrified pleadings were cut with a high pitched screaming as one of the guards cracked his whip into the boy testicles. He writhed in the dust.

"Silence! The accused runaway is not allowed to speak!"

"You boy, what do you have to say to us?" He turned to the sash dressed boy on his right.

"If you please Master, the tribute Boy Dominic is in his seventh year, he knows the law. He has chosen to run from his Master to avoid serving him as is his duty. He shames us all, I plead for the maximum penalty, if he is granted amnesty how can new boys like this one…" He pointed to me, I flushed and squirmed… "…learn their duty of love!"

"Thank you boy, most eloquent, and now you boy!" He turned to James.

"If you please Master, the Tribute Boy Dominic has admitted his guilt, but pleads your mercy. I would ask that you consider granting him his release and allowing him the dignity of dying by his own hand."

"Thank you also most eloquent, you have made the only plea that the Court can consider. You have acted honourably both of you what ever we may decide. Join your fellows!"

The two judges talked quietly for a while, then the other one stood up.

"In the interests of preserving Law and Order and that Public Interest is paramount in such cases it is the Sentence of this court that Tribute Boy Dominic be taken to the entrance gates, and there fixed until God grants him his release. I further command the servants of this court to exercise extreme care to avoid the spine when driving the final spike. We would not wish God to be to hasty in granting that release. He must remain an example to his fellows as long as possible. The boys in this stock yard may go about their normal duties, but are not allowed to eat until the sentence is successful. Do you have any last words Tribute Boy Dominic."

The boy shook his head groggily, he seemed to have shit himself.

"Then you may talk to the priest briefly before I hand you to the servants of the court for your sentence to be carried out. You boys turn and face the gate!"

We shuffled round and did not see what happened with the priest, only low stern words and frantic sobbing pleading.

"Carry out the Courts Orders, and let all here see the consequences of Sin!"

It was an awful, dishonourable and shaming death, both for him and for us, though I did not understand how much he had shamed us and our Master till much later. The Gates had been closed, into one, about a meter and a half off the ground had been driven an iron spike. On the ground were three more. The black figures lifted the boys flailing body off the ground, he was sobbing and frothing at the mouth in terror. They held him high against the gate, spike between his legs, and then dropped him so that the spike supported his body weight on his groin. I noticed that he had a long cock and large balls, there were a few dark hairs above the cock, otherwise he was as smooth and brown as all the boys here. The screams started. One held him there, the other collected two smaller spikes. Placing one in the flesh beneath the shoulder joint, he drove it in with swift blows of the hammer, the other spike in the other shoulder followed. Dominic was now pined, like one of the insects I was once shown in a Museum when I was free, to the inside of one of the great wooden gates to my new home. The boy's body convulsed and twitched, the screaming higher, only with short pauses to gulp breath. I could not imagine anything worse for him, but there was… The black figures went out of our vision to stand with the judges and a few other big people on the dais. We just stared in horror and the boy in front of us, two small boys started to be sick. It seemed a long time that we watched him in the hot sun, slowly he seemed to adjust to the paint and grew more silent and stiller. The blood trickled down both his brown flanks.

"You may proceed with the final part of the sentence now!"

The figures in black came back. One lifted the long remaining spike and centred it on the boys belly button.

"No!,… Please No!……" He pressed slowly and firmly and the rest was drowned in renewed screams. Surprisingly two things happened, first the boys body arched and spasmed driving the spike further into himself. Secondly his cock became amazingly hard, straining upward to touch the tortured belly.

"Careful now!" The voice rang out, and the trusting figure twisted the spike in the boys gut slightly to one side and pressed hard. The other drove the spike the remaining way through the boy's body and hammered it into the wood of the gate. Then they left him. His legs were jerking spastically, belly wound leaking a trail of blood down over the cock.

"Very good job, if you cut the spinal cord they loose all feeling in the lower body, much better this way"

I heard a voice say, but I had started to be sick too, and then passed out. We passed him for two more days on our daily routine, and still he jerked and screamed from time to time. But finally no more, though his body was left there for another week….. Please god that I would never shame my Master to die like that!

On the other hand James's death had been magnificent! In the city that bears his name he had danced with bull after bull, I his Mignon and only one year older. There were none left and still he danced despite his wounds, until strength was gone and the horn caught him and tossed him high. No fear of the bull I rushed to help him die to repay the honour and friendship he had given me. The bull bowled me over and wounded me too, before the little naked picadors on horseback drove him back to his pen. The crowd stood and roared. I took James in my mouth and his sperm flooded me at the moment he made his first cut. I stroked his hair as he made the second cut. He said "Tell our Master I danced my love for him" and was still. As I presented his trophy and his dagger to Don Carlos, me all filthy and bloody, the crowd roared even louder. I kneeled before him and he graciously allowed me to suck him too, his sperm joining James's inside me, before I passed out. What Tribute Boy could wish for more courage than to have both the winning bull boy's and his master's sperm inside him? I pray that it will be enough for my ordeal, and that Mishear and I can have such a fine death!

***

Don Carlos stands, he wears only a leather breach cloth. He says, "Christopher, are you prepared to prove yourself worthy to be my heir?"

"Yes father, I am." He stands before his father, and loosens his loin cloth to stand naked, his young cock, always what a Tribute Boy notices, promises to be long and firm. Don Carlos slips over his head a magnificent dagger on an intricate leather collar. Don Carlos slips his own breach cloth off and pulls his son to him and caresses his back, when they pull away both are hard.

"I pray you will prove worthy. But first Christopher you may assist me in testing the boy Jan to see if he is worthy for his destiny. Approach and ask Jan!"

I mount the dais before him, kneel and spread my arms wide.

"Please my Master, grant me my release and test my worthiness for you honour!" I throw my body back as Mishear had done into the sacrificial position. Like this my Master can geld me, slit my throat or my belly at his pleasure; or he can test me. I wait as Mishear presents my chosen gifts. He must be examining each one and thinking.

"Excellent choice this boy has made don't you think? But will he be as worthy as his friend?"

My Master says to Christopher. Then to Itu, "I think we will need some rope too, run quickly and get it!"

He come over to me and starts running his hand over my tight body, to the thighs and into the testicles. I groan and wriggle.

"I think a week's wait has made you rather eager my boy? Shall we begin?"

"Please Master I can stand anything to please you!" I answer, but can I really…?

Chapter 12c

Jan's Ordeal

He turns the hour glass and the sand begins to run… For what seems like forever, my Master's strong hands move over my prone, oiled body. He gets his son to join him, his hands are less demanding, but my whole body begins to respond, heedless of my friends watching me I start writhing and groaning with the lust to be taken by my Master, my cock is so hard it is pressed against my belly, my balls ache.

He is showing Christopher the places that excite me the most, as well as the places that start to bring the exquisite pain. I try to hold my Master and draw his cock towards my mouth, but he strikes my wrist, and gets Itu and Ino to hold me spread. Then he stops, and tells Mishear to give him the box with the awl in it. Then he says to Mishear, "These are not good enough, tell Secretary to give you the box of gold ones, be quick!"

While he waits he starts on my nipples, pulling and squeezing until they are erect and very painful.

"Right Christopher, pull the right one as far out as you can, its important to get just the right spot where the sensation is most."

He does this, but I am not prepared for the awful pain as my Master slowly works the point of the awl through me, I hear screaming far away and realise it is me. The pain seems to be driving me even wilder with lust, how can a Tribute Boy explain that his whole life is dedicated to giving pleasure to others through his own agony, but in doing so he finds his own release and joy? What joy when those tormenting your body are your Master and the boy who will be his heir! Even more joy that your friend watches and you can show him you are worthy to share his death! The pain recedes a little, I raise my head and watch as my Master, takes, Oh! joy! a gold ring from the box Mishear has brought, and pushes it through the pierced nipple; The blood, as red as my ribbons, trickles down my stretched ribs.

"Now, lets see what sort of a job you make on the left one!"

They reverse position and the pain balances as I am pierced again, but with a less sure hand. Now I have two gold rings, and two more blood red ribbons.

"I think this little whore was jealous of his friend, and wanted those, but maybe he did not expect a third."

What did he mean?

"Christopher, stand between his thighs and suck him, I expect you get lots of practice at school? I want him really hard, but if you feel him coming press hard where I showed you."

The boy takes me into his mouth, I recognise he is an expert! My Master stands over my head and allows me to take his cock into me, now I can not see what is happening, but every time I start to come the painful pressure stops me. Now my Master moves the boys hand to grip my cock near the base and squeeze rhythmical, he holds with finger and thumb, just below the head, the foreskin pulled back. I feel the beautiful pressure building and the first splash of my sperm on my belly … but then the most awful fire shoots through my cock at the same time as the pleasure, my Master is working the awl into the slit of my cock and out through the base of the head. I feel everything spinning, I must not escape into unconsciousness. My Master thrusts deep into me and his thick sperm floods me. When my senses return a little, but still in agony, my belly is covered with my own sperm and my own blood, my softening, bloody, cock has a gold ring inserted into its tip.

"Wow, Dad, that was awesome, the little whore wasn't expecting that was he?" Christopher is very hard.

"Well, you are going to be useless until you've fucked something! Come here boy!"

My Master pulls Mishear down across my belly and he trusts his bum in the air as we are all taught.

"Go on then, what you waiting for fuck him boy! Then we can get on with his friend."

My friend lies on my belly in my blood and sperm, and I watch with envy as my Master's son drives his long brown cock into his dark spread cheeks. After the boy has filled my friend, I see the white running down his thighs, I am left in my pain for a while. My Master and his son are talking, the glass has nearly half run. Itu and Inu are up on the beams with ropes.

Mishear strokes my thigh and says, "Well done Jan, I love you!", when they are not looking, then kneels back at my side.

They come back to me. My Master shows me the harness with the spikes on the inside.

"You going to be able to take this now then boy?"

"Please Master, let me show you I am worthy!"

But I am very frightened, now. My cock is soft but begins to harden a little as he rubs it, in spite of the pain in the tip. He places the strap round both balls and cock, another to separated them, and another to separate the two balls. With one hard pull he fastens it tight about me and drives the small spikes into my most sensitive parts. All control leaves me, now only wave upon wave of excruciating pain, increasing as my cock becomes rock hard in its constraints. I feel my body threshing helplessly about as my hands scrabble frantically at my tortured parts. I feel my wrists grabbed and I am held stretched again, still frantically twisting with the pain.

"Now Christopher I have an idea for finale of the boys performance, but I am not sure how strong a boy's cock and balls are, we will conduct a little experiment. Pass me that rope."

I do not understand what is going to happen next, but I soon find out. He ties the rope to the ring in the harness and with one heave pulls me into the air by my cock, legs dangling, but some weight taken on my shoulders. This was even worse, the spike are driven full in and the weight of my body is pulling the wounds open. I can see the red blood trickling down my flat belly, my rigid cock and swollen balls pulled incredibly far away from my belly. My Master runs his hand round my tortured cock.

"Good, no sign of tearing, provided they carry some of their weight on their feet it will work. You Mishear, in the morning go to Hassan and get him to have made an identical set to these for you, only yours in white leather. Understand?"

Next he goes to my head and places the choke chain round my throat. He lifts my shoulders and bends my body double so that the weight rests on my chest, feet dangling over my shoulders. He ties the other end of the rope attached to my balls to my choke collar.

"This should be interesting, if he wants to breath he will have to pull some slack in the rope, but in doing that he will be trying to pull his own balls of!"

I desperately reach behind my neck and try to do just that, the fear of choking wrestling with the terrible pain. I become quite frantic and only half conscious, but I am aware that both my Master and his son are running their hands over my body.

Just before all consciousness leaves me I hear my Master say so very far away. "That's enough I think, we don't want him to die on us just yet."

The rope is released and my body collapses on to the dais, it no longer feels that it belongs with my brain. But this is what I have always wanted, to please my Master and show him my love. I gasp for air and my senses slowly return, I notice that the glass has the final third to run, oh! Please help me St Antonius he is going to use the pincers!

"For the final part Christopher he has to be in the perfect position."

He positions me with my bum on the edge of the dais, he gets Mishear to lie at right angles under me my shoulders across his belly. He pulls the choke chain tight and ties it underneath so that my head is pulled right back. He then tells Itu and Ino to hold my ankles and pull them both up to my shoulders and away from my body, this both pulls my bum into the air and opens my hole. Oh please let him fuck me!

"Now Christopher, I think that's enough of the harness you can remove it."

It feels so good when he does.

"Now I want you to fuck him really hard, see if you can make him come by hitting the prostate, but you might have to wank him as well. What I want you to do is to come inside him and make him come at the same moment, when you feel it happening yell! If you can give his ring a twist as he shoots!"

My Master's son is fucking me at the same time as his hand works my cock. I am incoherent with lust.

"Please fuck me, fuck me … Oh! Harder! … Please make me come, oh please …" I feel it coming, my arse muscles working the boy's cock as he goes rigid thrust deep inside me …

"Now dad!" He screams. Then the joy merges with wave upon wave of agony more than I have ever known. My master has forced my jaws open and is gripping one of my upper back teeth, as my sperm leaves my body and coats my belly, his son's sperm fills my guts, and my tooth is being slowly wrenched out of my jaw.

He times it perfectly and with my last spasm of orgasm pulls it clear. There seems to be blood everywhere, dripping over my face and into my hair.

"Good, strong boy this one, he's still conscious! But we can't leave him lopsided, change places and you do the same one the other side while I fuck him. Do you know his friend told me that he wanted me to fuck him!"

It is the same for a second time. My Master is the better fuck, bigger, harder, and more forceful, driving into me in the slickness of his sons sperm. He works my swollen balls as well as my cock and very soon I am back pleading even harder to be fucked, and wanked. No longer any shame or resistance like during that first year here. I am just the whore of a Tribute Boy that my mother says I am, I only exist to love and pleasure my Master, if he rewards me by making me come then I am complete.

"Now Chris!" He yells and the boy, much less skilfully tears the other tooth out. The pain no longer matters, I belong to my Master and his son, I am full of their sperm, I will have the courage, to die for him together with my friend in front of all his guests. I know now that we both have the courage and the love to make our deaths truly memorable, in the skill of our dance and in prolonging the agony of end beyond what anybody thinks we can endure. I have the brief thought that just once every few years The President intervenes and halts that final agony because of the power of the performance. There is perhaps a chance for us? But I dismiss the thought. Let me die for love of my Master!

"Good boy Jan, I am proud of you, and you did not shame me in front of my son!"

I am carried to my Masters bathroom all bloody and covered with sperm. Mishear is told to clean both of us up, he does as I lie on the tiles quite unable to stand. Itu and Ino wash my Master and his son.

They have a joke about twins always doing everything together, and prove it by each wanking one of the little black boys. They have a simultaneous dry orgasm to prove it! They look as happy as I am!

Christopher gets serious. "Dad, why do Tribute Boys want so much to be fucked by their Master?"

"They believe that if they have their Master's life juice inside them it will give them courage to endure to show their love."

There is a very long silence. "Dad, your sperm made me. I love you very much too, so much more than a Tribute Boy can. I too want to be able to prove my love and my worth to be you heir through the ordeal you have set me. Will you do something for me Dad?"

"What is that, Christopher?"

"I want you to fuck me as hard as you did Jan so that I to will have the courage to please you."

"Are you sure boy, you never have had a man inside you?"

"Yes, please Dad, please fuck me too!"

When we are all clean we go to my Masters big bed. I am told to lie on my back, and Christopher to make a sixty-nine with me. I wrap my legs round his shoulders, and am told to push his knees apart, and we start sucking each other. I see my Master grease the brown pucker, then drives his huge cock into his own son, the boy starts to scream round my cock in his mouth, but manages to regain control.

Everything becomes a blur, my sperm shoots in the boys mouth, and his floods mine and leaks out. His father shouts and thrusts into the boys hole filling him too, this also leaks and dribbles over his balls on to my face. I can taste both at the same time. I can't remember the rest of that wonderful night, not how many times I got fucked, or how many times Mishear got fucked. We were not of course allowed to fuck each other, I am sure it would be so good to show Mishear my love too, but of course I can not.

In the morning we are allowed to sleep in the sun on the veranda. Itu and Ino are now our Mignons, and will do everything for us until the end. Now they are licking us clean again. We will no longer eat with the ordinary boys and will have special food and privileges. Our collars have been cut off, and we each now wear a small stainless steel dagger on a steel chain round our necks. Our most thoughtful Master has decorated each with a tooth, my tooth. He has explained what we must do, how we must train, and why these are not the normal wood and leather daggers. In spite of my aching bruised body, still bleeding a little in places, I am very happy.

Before we sleep my Master says. "Mishear and Jan, I am very pleased with you both, when I get back from the Balkan Market you can share my bed again. Jan should have healed by then. Christopher however will be busy with his own Mignon I think?" Christopher smirks, and we sleep.

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