Date: Sun, 29 Jun 2008 13:48:09 +0100
From: Speed Back <speedback11@googlemail.com>
Subject: Daredevil Speedo Boys - Live On Stage part 13 (M/b), anal, cons bond

(WARNING: This is obviously fiction...nothing like it has ever happened in
real life, nor should it, for very obvious reasons. Don't try anything like
this at home guys, or anywhere else! And leave those boys alone!
Speedoboy711 speedback11@googlemail.com )

When the curtain was raised for the final time that night, the only large
prop on stage was a double bed, covered in a black silk sheet. Boy-size
wrist and ankle cuffs were attached to each foot of the bed, but otherwise
the entire set was bare.
The audience was a little surprised. After all, this was supposed to be the
grand finale. By tradition, the thirteenth (and final) boy on stage was, at
the great age of eleven, the oldest of the group, and thus more able to
perform an extremely rigorous act, pushing himself to the very limit. In
previous years, the spectators had witnessed intriguing spectacles, such as
an eleven year old blond boy being sexually crucified upside down during a
satanic mass ceremony. Like many of the acts, the smoke and mirrors involved
ensured that the boy wasn't permanently injured or risked death, but it had
been performed with great skill, and looked utterly believable at the time.
Another boy had been caught in a giant spider's web, wrapped in silk and
apparently devoured by a spider bigger than he was. And an eleven year old
cage-fighter boy called Daniel, in bright blood-red speedos had, quite
literally, been thrown to the lions.
The spectacle, whether fake or real, wasn't always a violent one though -
one year, an eleven year old had requested sexual intercourse with all
twelve of the younger boys who'd performed before him, in an extraordinary
display of sexual energy at an entirely preteen orgy. The little boys'
lovemaking was so sweet, funny, tender, and only occasionally rough to watch
that the audience sat enchanted, declaring they'd never witnessed anything
more arousing. Then they'd spontaneously pounced on the boys themselves,
extending the orgy into the early hours of the morning
However, this was not to be the nature of tonight's finale. The child had
devised a rather more extreme act for himself than anyone could have
expected.

A friendly, athletic-looking eleven year old boy in black speedos walked
confidently onto the stage. He looked eager for action.
"Hi everyone!" he grinned, his unbroken voice sounding warm and melodic. He
was beautifully slim, quite tall for his age, and very slightly muscular -
but not much. His laughing black eyes shone out mischievously from under his
mop of straight black hair. He adjusted his speedos with a delighted,
unashamed giggle as his little penis stiffened inside his fuck-me swimwear.
The little boy was gazing at the bed, thinking of what was about to happen
to him. He rubbed his cocklet through the thin nylon fabric of his fist-me
speedos. Physically, mentally, and especially sexually, he was about to
undergo quite an ordeal.
The boy began to deliver his carefully-prepared script with great panache,
in a well-educated voice. His easy manner suggested that he was probably
being educated at an expensive private school, and because of this, many of
the spectators wished he'd appeared in his British school uniform and
stripped slowly for them, instead of jumping the gun by appearing with
almost nothing on. But I guess you can't have everything.
"Thanks a lot for staying to watch me tonight!", he piped in a lovely
choirboy treble. "I'm Alex and I'm eleven. I like swimming, diving,
wrestling and boxing. Especially boxing!"
The preteen showed off his boxing moves proudly, punching the air, weaving
and ducking blows from an imaginary opponent. His lithe body seemed very
flexible. At one point, as he danced around the stage like a little imp, he
turned his back on the audience, showing his rape-me speedo had been slit up
the back to allow easy access to his inviting little boyhole. The slit was
even bigger than those normally cut into the rear of the boy performers'
kinky little swim briefs. If you wanted to, you could probably get a large
man's clenched  fist through the slit in the back of this particular eleven
year old boy's athletic swimwear.
"My boxing coach has been teaching me to give real good punches...and how to
take 'em too. In all sorts of ways. Lemme show you what I mean, 'kay?"
Without further ado, the child spreadeagled himself excitedly face down to
the double bed. When he was comfortable, the boy then called his boxing
coach onto the stage. The eager, fit man kissed the eleven year old on the
top of his head, ruffled the child's hair affectionately, and expertly
secured Alex's slim wrists and slender ankles in an X-shape face down onto
the bed. Kneeling on the bed, he reached right under the boy's speedos,
stroking the youngster's hairless cock and balls lovingly, so that the boy's
state of sexual excitement was heightened for his ordeal.
In a state of eager anticipation, little Alex then called a number of other
men on stage: "OK guys, roll your sleeves up and come and get me!" A number
of the bikers who'd gangraped the little motorcycle stuntboy much earlier in
the evening reappeared. Intriguingly, they were literally rolling their
sleeves up, and lubricating their thick, powerful hands and arms right up
beyond their elbows. They stood in a semicircle behind the bed to which the
eleven year old boy was now cuffed tightly and securely. The boy was trying
to grind his penis into the bed, such was his state of sexual anticipation.
His boy bubblebutt bobbed up and down excitedly at the prospect of what was
to come. The black lycra encasing the small boy's smooth buttocks looked
extremely taut - like most eleven year old boys, Alex obviously liked to
wear his speedo briefs very tight.
The boxing coach laid a small wooden stick next to the boy's head, right
next to his little rosebud mouth, for the child to bite on, if the pain
became too much to bear. He also checked the boy's safeword with him one
final time before the rough part of the act began.
"Punchbag, sir! It's punchbag" the boy sang confidently, keen to get
started, rolling his big black eyes a little, in juvenile frustration. He'd
been training for this for over a year.
The man reached through the huge slit up the back of the small boy's
piledrive-me black speedos and began a patient and thorough lubrication of
the eleven year old's hairless anus. The preteen child writhed in pleasure
within his bonds, cooing like a tiny bird. It was the most careful
lubrication the audience had witnessed that night, and the man seemed to be
going deeper and deeper inside the little boy's body for a good few
minutes before many of the spectators were fully aware of what they were
witnessing. One finger...then two fingers...then three fingers...the boy was
breathing hard, a fierce look of concentration in his eyes as he felt his
little anus being deeply and thoroughly probed by his boxing coach's thick,
hairy fingers...then a pause.
The man stroked the boy's head gently and asked him if he wanted to
continue, in the mildest of voices.
"Sure thing, sir!" the boy shot back, his black eyes sparkling under the
powerful theatre lights. "Go all the way sir, and then some...you know what
to do!"
The coach thanked his boy politely, as children willing to perform such acts
should always be treated with great respect by the adults involved
in sadomasochistic sex games. Four fingers...
"Arg! Eeeeeeeyow!" yelled the boy, finding four digits less easy to
accommodate inside his preteen passage. But by the time the man had
carefully inserted his thumb too, the boy was perspiring profusely, and
yelping like a fox cub caught in a snare. Then the man withdrew for a
moment, and, with a dark and purposeful look in his eyes, he carefully, but
firmly, formed a fist. It was a large, powerful, hairy fist. To gasps from
the audience, and cries of "No...don't do it!" from some of the shocked
spectators, the man slowly but firmly tried to try to inch his entire
clenched fist right into the eleven year old's boycunt.
The expression on the boy's face was indescribable. His little eyes were
screwed tight shut, and he threw his beautiful head suddenly  upwards in
agony. Then a fierce smile of relief played across his sensual lips as he
felt himself beginning to be slowly and gently shafted, just at the very
opening of his rosebud boycunt, by the man's enormous clenched hand. The
eleven year old panted and gasped pitifully, shaking his head from side to
side as if to deny what was happening to him. Then the boy asked for the
wooden stick, which had already fallen from the bed onto the stage in the
melee, to be placed between his beautiful healthy white teeth. One of the
men about to fist-fuck the eleven year old obliged, kissing the back of the
boy's neck as he helped him. When he had something to bite on, the eleven
year old nodded firmly, signalling that the next stage of the act could
begin.
The man had worked about half of his fist into the boy. But it was tough
going as an object of that size was far too large for a boy that age to take
without splitting his willing but tight little boyhole. With yet more
lubricant, the man tried again and again to open Alex's boycunt up a bit
wider. The man knew that if he could make good headway now, he would be
sparing the boy a thousand agonies later. Deeper and deeper he ploughed,
slowly but surely. Like so many things in life, the fisting of a preteen boy
is only a matter of time and patience, as long as consent has been given by
all those involved.
The boy's eyes seemed to be popping out of his head in a mixture of
surprise, sexual stimulation, and supreme agony. All these feelings were
etching themselves onto his  otherwise innocent little face, conveying the
symphony of emotions surging through his milk-white body. He was squeaking
like a small mouse, and, to be honest, the boy was looking absolutely
terrified by now. And yet he refused to stop his performance. There was a
wild, hungry look of bucking bronco determination in the small child's
glistening eyes.
The man was right inside him now, wrist-deep inside the bravest boy of the
night. Hitting and punching the boy's immature little prostate, making the
child coo occasionally with delight, when he wasn't yelling lustily in his
preteen sexual agony.
Now he'd got right inside him, the boxing coach could withdraw, at least for
a while. He did so slowly, his fist emerging with an almost comical plop as
it left the child's gorgeous body. The man stood up, and turned to the men
gathered around the bed, saying: "Very well gentlemen. As you can see, Alex
is prepared. You may go at him as hard as you like, unless his says his
safeword, which is "Punchbag"".
Then the nightmarish final act began. Some of the audience left the
auditorium in protest during it.
A shaven-headed man with a rather cruel glint in his eyes pounced onto the
boy, jumping onto the bed like a predatory paedophile running amok in a prep
school boys dormitory. Unlike the boy's coach, he did not treat the eleven
year old gently.
The child screamed as he felt the man punching his way into his tender back
passage, with no regard for the youngster's sexual welfare. After a bit of
difficulty getting in, the lascivious, drooling man gave the eleven year old
boy an utterly savage fisting, piledriving his arm pitilessly in an out of
the tightly restrained child.
The boy howled as he felt his anus stretched to breaking point under the
savage hammering it was being given by an object that was far too large for
it.
The monster was only allowed a minute or two to assault the child before he
was hauled off by the other men in the group, all of whom were eager to
fist-fuck the boy, in the most bloodthirsty act of gang-fist-fucking
involving a preteen boy that had ever been filmed.
When the second man clawed his way inside the little swimmer and pummelled
him like a rag doll, Alex began to wonder how long it would be before the
familiar feeling of his own boycunt being split would hit. He was well used
to being violently sodomised, and, like most boys his age, he enjoyed it a
great deal - but he'd never attempted being fist-fucked in public by
thirteen men in quick succession before, and the violence with which some of
the bikers were doing it worried him a bit.

Meanwhile offstage, Rob was being patched up by his master. The ten year
old's back was covered in angry welts, which looked out of place on the
otherwise smooth and tender body of such an attractive and cheerful little
boy. They were attended to with relative ease by the medics, and his back
was heavily padded, so that the boy could eventually, tentatively, put his
yellow swimming club T-shirt back on. The vandalism that had been committed
on the small boy's genitals was harder to treat, but Robbie was in the hands
of very skillful medics, all of whom were dedicated to the healing of young
boys who'd experienced exactly this type of violent sexual assault. Soon
enough, the boy daredevil was back on his feet. He may have been pumped full
of drugs, but he felt a million dollars. The sparkle returned to his impish
little eyes, and his straight brown hair shone with a lustre that suggested
he'd just hopped out of the shower at home, after a good shampooing and
combing by his attentive Mom.
Lord Wolf strode into the treatment room.
"How are you feeling, Rob?"
He hardly ever used the boy's first name, and the ten year old knew he was
being paid a rare compliment.
"I'm very well thank you sir! These guys fixed me up real good...do I have
you permission to invite them to fuck me, as a thank-you to them?"
The ten year old boy gazed up imploringly into his master's eyes, begging to
feel all six of the doctors and medics cocks up as many of his fresh
young orifices as he could take at once.
"I'm afraid there isn't time for that right now, boy...I have to show you
something very urgently, and it must be done now - your young life could
depend on it!"
The child nodded and bowed low to each member of the rather disappointed
medical team. They helped him to get dressed again. This time the preteen's
black speedos were unslit. The child whimpered a little as he felt the tight
nylon of the swimwear crushing his cocklet and balls as he snapped them on.
Then back into his black sweat pants and track suit top, his yellow football
socks and his black and yellow trainers. Now he looked like the kind of boy
you'd see hanging around the mall any Saturday. It was strange to see the
boy fully dressed. His master found it rather arousing, and had to adjust
his own massive hairy mancock inside his black Adidas swim briefs. He
wondered how soon it would be before he could fuck the boy into oblivion
again as a reward for his bravery and fortitude that night.
The man and his boy left the room, and Lord Wolf took him on a laberynthine
journey through the chateau, right down to the dungeons on the lowest level.
Preparations were already being made for the after-show party there,
including the slave auction.
Rob felt a shudder run right through his ten year old body when he saw what
was being prepared. He clung to his master like a little monkey.
"W...what's happenin'...what are they doin' sir?"
"As you know Rob, there is an after-show party and a slave auction. You are
not obliged to attend. I want to show you what is involved, should you wish
to participate. The choice is yours. Each boy must decide whether he wishes
to take part, and he has to understand that doing so will probably put him
at great personal risk"
The preteen boy's eyes widened in horror at what he saw.
As well as the slaveboy platform, there was a boy-size noose hanging from a
child-size scaffold.
A number of heavy duty saws, including a chainsaw, had been placed on a
bloodstained table.
The heaviest duty handcuffs and restraints that the ten year old boy had
ever seen were attached to the legs of the table.
An iron maiden, about the right size for an eight or nine year old boy, was
standing open against one of the walls. It contained a series of vicious
spikes set at just the right height to ensure that the little occupant's
cocklet and tiny balls would be thoroughly pierced as they went right
through his small body.
Boiling oil bubbled in a pit, with a winch above it. A preteen-boy-sized
harness was attached to the winch.
A number of boy-sized coffins, lined with black speedo fabric, were stacked
against one of the walls. Rob had seen enough. It was beyond horrifying. He
started to cry, burying his small face into his master's chest.
"Wh...what...wha...???" was all the boy could manage to blubber between his
tears. He gazed up with a mixture of utter incomprehension and fierce rage
at his master.
"May I take it that that is a "no" from you, Rob?"
"G...get...get me outta here, right now sir...I wanna go home right now!"

Back on stage, eleven year old Alex drifting in and out of consciousness as
he was fist-fucked for the tenth time. Some of the other bikers were
injecting painkilling drugs into his thin little arms, and others were
staunching the blood seeping from his ravaged little boycunt. His master was
begging him to say his safeword, but the boy was shaking his head weakly,
knowing that he'd nearly made it through his ordeal. Only three more
fist-fuckings to go..then he started to feel himself slipping away
entirely...the cameras rolled and the crowd roared. The grand finale would
all be recorded on film. The angel inside the boy flew suddenly upwards,
leaving his traumatised little body chained to the bed.

Rob sat gingerly on the car seat and slowly clipped on his safety belt. He
was a law-abiding little boy who liked to obey the rules of the road. As he
master fired the ignition and switched on the huge vehicle's lights, he knew
he had a lot of explaining to do.
"OK Rob here's how it works. The rule is that no boy is forced to do
anything he doesn't want to do, right?"
"Ummmmm...right sir..." the boy whispered suspiciously.
"But life isn't always fair, right?"
"No sir, I know life isn't always fair" mumbled the boy like an automaton,
staring hard out of the  window at the ornate gardens, as the car rolled
steadily along the driveway leading from the mansion.
"Well it works like this...after he's performed, if he survives, every boy
is asked if he wants to go to the aftershow party.."
"Yeah...like he can say no" the boy interjected bitterly.
"He can say no, Rob," said Lord Wolf calmly but firmly, and that decision
will always he respected."
The small boy snorted in derision. He had never felt so angry. At that
moment, he could have killed his master. But he was desperate to leave and
get home, and this was his only way of gaining a safe passage out of the
hellhole.
"Then", the man continued in his perfectly reasonable tone, the boy is told
that the aftershow party will begin with a slave auction, which he can
either watch, or participate in, if he chooses to do so. But every boy is
warned that, once he is sold as a slave, he will be in the hands of a
different master for the next two hours. And the boy is told, in no
uncertain terms, that that master can do whatever he wants to the
boy....absolutely anything...and for that period of time only, his safety,
and his life, are in no way guaranteed, because he has been sold, albeit
temporarily, as a slave."
The ten year old boy shook his head in disbelief. Suddenly he felt at least
twelve years old.
"Of course", the man continued, "some masters treat their slaves very
well..but there are are few who are more extreme. Some are interested, for
example, in amputation..."
The boy began to sob quietly.
"Others are interested in capital
punishment...cannibalism...vampirism...satanism...anything goes, at the
aftershow party. One year, they even acted out the massacre of preteen boys
as described at the end of the Marquis de Sade's book "120 days of Sodom"..I
have the DVD somewhere..."
The boy was weeping uncontrollably, his small head hanging forward into his
little hands.
"I say this not to cause you distress, Rob, but because I wanted you to know
exactly what you might be putting yourself thru, if you'd agreed to attend
the event. And as you have, very sensibly in my view, decided not to, you
are free to leave with me".
"But sir! No boy's gonna say "Yeah come and crucify me...c'mon guys snuff me
if you wanna!" That just wouldn't happen!"
"You'd be surprised, Rob....I know you've suffered in the past..but some
boys have suffered much worse than you, and so they like to live more
dangerously, to risk more, and to experience more pain...even to go all the
way, as it were, down the road of no return. They know it will bring some
relief. They know that the pain, the drumming pain, will stop in their head,
and they can go out with a bang...or on the biggest sexual high
imaginable..."
One of the man's hands left the steering wheel so that he could stroked his
massive mancock as he remembered the demise of previous little boys during
the party.
"I realise these ideas may seem a little strange to you, Rob, cruel
even..perhaps a little immoral...but they are not unknown among some men and
boys. And I assure you that if the boy goes ahead with the slave auction,
he's left in no doubt about just how awesome his fate might be. Some boys go
for it...I've seen their little dagger-hard erections forming in their
snuff-me black death speedos as the agree to try their luck. And for the
boys who survive, the finacial rewards are quite considerable. How do you
think I was able to afford to buy Posideon Manor?"
The boy had stopped crying a few moments ago. He suddenly gazed at his
master. Despite himself, he had to know. Like all boys of his age, he
suddenly needed to know, and to know everything.
"W...what did you do sir..and how old were you?"
"Well, I was about your age" the man murmured gently, suddenly in
reminiscent mood, "maybe a year or two older, I decided to risk all at the
aftershow party. I guess I was a real crazy kid, and at the time I thought I
really didn't care what happened to me, as long as it was extreme. As long
as I got so badly hurt that I'd forget everything else while I was going
thru whatever it was...I was given a red loincloth and told to play Mowgli.
The they threw me to the wolves..."
Despite himself, the ten year old boy felt his cocklet stirring inside his
midnight-black speedos. He realised that a part of him wanted to play Mowgli
too, and that he wanted to be thrown to the wolves.
"Well, there I was in the bottomless pit", the man continued, "eleven years
old and only a small stick to defend myself. It didn't take long for the
whole pack of wolves to rape me. My little boyhole..." (The boy couldn't
help but giggle a little. The idea of his huge hairy master as an eleven
year old with a little boyhole of his own was unimaginable. His master let
it pass). "My little boyhole was smeared with female wolf-fuck so they
pounced on me at once. They seeemed to be at it for hours...and they bit me
too...all over my body, but especially my ears, neck and shoulders. I lost
so much blood that the adult boyloevrs present left me for dead after the
ordeal...but I came too alone, in the bottom of the pit, with the wolves
licking my wounds. Ever since then, I think I've had a bit of a wolf in me.
And when we met, and you told be that your safe word, "Bagheera", came from
"The Jungle Book", it seemed that you and I were just meant to be..."
"Yeah...we were..." said the boy very quietly, "But now I just wanna go
home".
"Back to your parent's home or back to my home? You've got a lot of padding
strapped all over your body, and that could take a bit of explaining".
"Just take me back to my Mom and Dad please sir...I'll think of
something..." The tired boy zoned out completely for a while, not even
daring to think about how he would explain his physical condition to his
solicitous parents.
Lord Wolf put his left hand on the ten year old boy's right leg, stroking
the child's milky white thigh through his black sweat pants.
"Rob...Rob..Didn't I always promise to look after you? Isn't that just what
I did just now, by explaining to you exactly what happens at the party, and
taking you away as soon as you said you wanted to go? Aren't I doing exactly
as you've asked right now, taking you back home?"
The ten year old boy's brow furrowed slightly. He was too tired to play
logic games. He brushed his master's hand away from his thigh. Now it was
Lord Wolf's turn to shed a silent tear. He'd always known that his time with
Rob would be short. It always is with boys that age. But he hadn't expected
it to be over so soon. He knew the boy would come back for more in the
future. They always do. But it might not happen until the boy was eleven, or
twelve, or even thirteen.
Finally, the car drew up outside Rob's house. The boy tumbled from the car.
His family was used to him being dropped off at all hours, as his swim
coach took him all over the world to compete  in far-flung galas. The child
fumbled for his house key, on a lucky moneky key ring in his bag.
Lord Wolf lent over to kiss his boy, but the ten year old pulled away in a
stiff and unfriendly manner. Then he proudly shrugged his shoulders and held
out his hand.
The man shook it solemnly. "Rob, take a few days to think about it..and if
you ever want to come back...you know..." Then he fell silent.
The boy perked up a little and grinned, shooting back "Bet you ass sir!",
knowing that for once he wouldn't be chastised for his cheekiness.
The child edged out of the car painfully. His master made sure that his
pupil had managed to get inside and shut the front door before he drove
away, on the prowl as always. Rob was angry, but, in Lord Wolf's view at
least, the preteen swimmer was still a little speedo bondage boy-slut tart
at heart, and probably always would be, even when he was an adult, if he
lived that lonmg. He was sure that Rob would reconsider one day. The
aristcrat resolved to send him an invitation sometime. Maybe when he was a
bit older...maybe when he was twelve. An invitation...he'd send the boy and
invitation...an offer that no boy could possibly refuse.
With a howl of deep frustration, the wolf vanished into the night.

(This is the end of the "Speedo Daredevil Boys - Live On Stage" story. It's
the second part of the Speedo Boys trilogy. The first story is "Boy
Daredevils in Speedos", which is quite tame, and the third is "Speedo Boy's
Daredevil Challenge", which is quite hot - I hope!)

Thanks for reading! And for all the great support from so many people, cos
that's what keeps me writing! Any comments, however harsh, and anything else
(!), always welcome at my new address for feedback:
speedback11@googlemail.com

The speedo boys also perform in:
/nifty/gay/adult-youth/speedo-boys-daredevil-challenge/
and
/nifty/gay/adult-youth/boy-daredevils-in-speedos/
Enjoy!