Date: Sun, 29 Feb 2004 06:25:04 -0000 (GMT)
From: ok_uwater@merlads.net
Subject: boy-daredevils-in-speedos-6

Boy Daredevils in Speedos 5

Copyright by Speedyboy and UndrCGuy, Feb 2004.  This story is submitted to
Nifty under their submission guidelines.   No part of this story can be
submitted or archived by anyone else without my express permission. If
you are too young or don't like stories about rough play with erotic
overtones press the back button NOW!

This story is fantasy.  The author does not endorse, encourage, or
consent to any attempt to make any of the below described scenes real.

Please send feedback to Speedyboy, speedyboy@merlads.net or
undrcguy@merlads.net.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time Rob and Peter were thrust into the chamber in which Paul had
spent the night suspended in a cage, it was clear that the nine-year-old
had spent an anguished night. He looked wild, and started yelling at them
to get him out as soon as he saw them, apparently convinced that he was
about to drown. The two boys knew were required to start the game with
some warm-up exercises at the poolside - every stretch and flex caught
on camera, as usual. The boys guessed that the more Paul screamed above
them, the longer it would take before the cage actually dropped, and
the kid was now hurling himself around the cage squealing.

"Paul, it's OK...it'll be OK" yelled his eleven-year-old brother.  "Just
try to keep still and don't panic, and we'll get you out, I promise!"

The sound of his brother's voice seemed to calm the youngster, and he
curled up in a ball in the corner of the heavy metal cage. It dropped,
crashing into the water, and sank straight to the bottom of the pool. The
two older boys dived in - Peter looked after his captive brother,
offering signs of reassurance, but this time a thick mesh lined the
cage, so that it was not possible to feed the schoolboy mouthfuls of
oxygen. Rob looked around - a tormentor stood at the top of a high dive
board, waving the key at him, and a small noose. The tormentor was armed
with a large sword, in case Rob attacked him. Dreading what was coming,
the ten-year-old scampered up six flights of steps to the high board. It
was immediately clear from the gestures of the tormentor where the small
noose belonged. Shutting his eyes, Rob pulled down his small pair of
purple speedos at the front, and allowed the noose to be tied around his
hairless young balls and penis. He could not see how long the cord was.
Would it allow him to dive all the way unscathed, or would his most
precious possessions he ripped from him mid-dive? The noose was secured,
his speedos neatly restored, and he was given the key.  Paul must be
freaking out by now, Rob thought, and a surge of pity ran through him
as he thought of the frightened, skinny blond boy caged helplessly at
the bottom of the cold pool. He had to take a chance. It was only the
regular morning cage rescue - it happened at the start of every day -
surely he wouldn't be torn apart at this stage of the proceedings?
He had to gamble, so he stretched his body smartly into a Y-position,
trying not to shake too much, and dived into the water far below with a
boyish yell of "Geronimo!". His relief when he plunged below the surface
was immense, but he had no time to waste thinking about himself, so he
swam front crawl furiously up the pool, thrusting the key into Peter's
waiting hand. The eleven-year-old spun himself over and shot to the bottom
of the pool, unlocked the cage and dragged his brother to the surface. It
took both boys to heave the youngster onto the side of the pool, as he
was still wrapped tightly in a ball. Then they uncurled him gently and
told him how well he'd done, and how proud they were of him. Eventually
Paul opened one eye. "Really?" he whispered.

"Yes, really!", the other two chorused in unison, patting him on the
back. Then suddenly Rob felt a surge of agony between his legs...the
noose was still attached, and the tormentors were dragging him back into
the pool!  It took the other two boys some moments to realize what was
happening, as Rob had had no time to tell them about the cruel attachment.
Paul pointed in horror to the high-dive board, where a winch was turning
slowly, reeling in the cord of the noose. The boy could see the cord must
be attached to Rob in some way, and babbled instructions to his older
brother. If they didn't get Rob out quickly, the boy would be winched
up to the high dive board by his balls!  Peter tore up the steps,
in a rage and flew at the tormentor. The boy and his torturer rolled
around dangerously on the high dive board, as the ten-year-old's body
began to rise from the water. The cub scout was evidently in agony,
as his cries rang around the chamber. Desperately, Peter grabbed the
tormentors sword, and sliced the cord with such a wild swing that the
blade caught the tormentor by accident on the thigh. The boy stopped
suddenly, knowing that he had committed a serious breach of the rules
by injuring one of the tormentors, but secretly overjoyed that Rob was
safe. Rob swam gratefully to the side of the pool, yelling his gratitude,
but Peter knew he could expect no mercy that day, and that it would be
some time before he heard any more kind words.

Lord Wolf appeared, shaking with anger at the violation of one of his
tormentors, and barked out the boy's instructions for the day, sparing
them no details. He hadn't had time to adjust Peter's programme, but
hinted that Peter would likely spend the night in the cage - with some
extra torment added, to punish him for his serious infringement of
the rules.

Rob saw his moment at last, and raised his boyish treble voice in anger
at the aristocrat; "Peter's not the only one breaking the rules here,
Lord Wolf! That so-called doctor is breaking them far worse any of us. I
have to talk to you sir! I have to see you!"

He was unsure whether the master had even heard him, as he was bundled
away.

Rob's swim training was punishing, although no crates were attached to
him as he was already sore from the antics in the cage pool. He wore a
diver's weight belt as he swam, but it was attached in a conventional
way. That day, he felt like a mighty paddle steamer, tirelessly churning
though the water with boundless energy, unaware of how long he'd been
working his body to the limit. He believed he could swim forever. As
long as he was swimming, he was always free, always alone, and always in
control, with his troubles ever receding behind him. It was his world,
and he wanted no other.

He blinked, confused, when he was brought to a stop, and it took a
while to remember where he was. He could hardly concentrate on lunch,
which he took alone, and he had no thoughts about anything except being
underwater as he rested briefly, lolling on a bench in his speedos,
before the two ordeals of the afternoon began.

He swam calmly to his first rendezvous, glad to be back underwater. He was
counting all the time to see how long he could hold his breath while still
swimming. Nearly two minutes! He surfaced, towelled his milky-white body
down briskly, and looked around at the curious mixture of rocks, boulders,
trees and bushes that greeted him. Then a game of Cowboys and Indians
began. It had been Rob's favourite games when he was younger, but he knew
this version would be a lot rougher than before. The tormentors tore off
his speedos and forced him unwillingly into a little silky red loincloth,
and the chase was on. It was a fast game. His two torturers were dressed
as cowboys, and armed with pistols which fired red paint. Every time Rob
was hit, an alarm bell rang, and he had to stand still, and steel his
little stomach for a gutpunch from the cowboy who'd fired the shot. Rob
was tough enough to take the blow by tensing his strengthening stomach
muscles, but he knew he would weaken over time. He could only win by
finding the rope which hidden somewhere in the bushes, and tying up
his adversaries. Splat! He was hit again, and stood obediently, his
hands clasped behind his head, as he offered his slender midriff for
punishment. The tormentors (only boys themselves, but slightly older)
took great glee in discharging their obligations. The cowboy who'd fired
the shot buried his fist right into the youngster, laughing sadistically
as Rob fell to the floor, winded, writhing - but the pain momentary. He
was on his feet again soon enough, and running around again frantically
searching for his means of escape. Splat! This time his loincloth had
flown up and his balls were splashed with vivid red! So a new rule came
into play - it was time for a special ball-busting from the cowboys -
one punch each. The tormentors speadeagled the boy on the ground and tied
him down, drawing out the whole process as long as possible, before the
twelve-year-old tormentor and his thirteen-year-old companion landed one
awesome blow each on their captured Indian. Rob yelped, but he didn't
yelp his safeword. But now he was going to get them. He had spotted the
rope high in a tree at the back of the chamber. he scrambled up like a
squirrel, so fast that the tormentors lost him for a moment, and came
looking for him. With a loud boy-Indian war cry, the ten-year-old hurled
himself down, looping the surprised pair and securing them before they
knew what had happened.  Rob couldn't resist a brief war dance around
them, before deciding that he needed his speedos back. He tossed the
loincloth, and resumed his customary, classic attire.

Soon he was back in the water, and heading off for his final test of the
day. It was the one he had been looking forward to most - the Whipping
Board. He had fantasized about it for many years, ever since he'd read
about it in the school library, in a book about the way disobedient Roman
slave boys were treated.  When everyone was out at home, from the age
of seven, he used to slip into his speedos, and whip himself mercilessly
with a leather belt, sparing no part of his body from the ordeal, and he
drank in the sight of his punishment in front of a long mirror. So, as he
surfaced into the whipping chamber, he felt quietly confident that he was
well trained for the ordeal. He waited for some minutes, but there was
no one there. He was eager to begin, so he placed himself on the board,
standing with his chest against it, and his back exposed. Instead of
the chains he's expected, metal cuffs clipped into place automatically
over his hands and feet. He felt an utterly delicious tingle run right
through him. He was so completely ready...

Then he froze, as a kindly but familiar voice he'd quickly grown to
dread whispered right into his ear; "I'm the whipmaster today!"

The gentle face of Dr Jamboree smiled at the boy. The medic checked
that the boy was utterly helpless, licked his lips, and then slid calmly
away towards a long curtain, just within Rob's line of vision. When the
sinister man drew the veil aside, Rob was astounded to see dozens of
whips of all lengths and sizes, some of the leather dyed riotous colours,
some barbed, some made entirely of wire, some even composed of links of
metal that could be flexed like backbones.

"Oh yes, I heard what you said about me this morning, and that's why I
dismissed the tormentors" said the doctor softly. He took a few steps
back, to get a good run at the boy. Crack! He brought a black leather
whip down hard on the youngster's shoulders.  "Do you know what I do to
little boys who tell tales?"  Crack! on the back of his little speedos.
"It's quite simple - I whip them until they beg to me to stop, and
use their safeword...and then I whip them some more".  Crack! on his
lower back...  "And I don't even know what your safeword is, boy."
Crack! on the back of his trembling legs.  "So you see, there can be
no end to this ordeal, can there?"  "Oh yes there can!" yelled Rob.
He was angry that the loathsome man had cheated his way into the chamber,
and was determined to get the better of him.  He would not buckle before
evil incarnate now, not while he was feeling strong, and beginning to
master himself.  "You're out of shape, and you'll get tired before I do!"
And so the battle was joined, the utterly determined boy and the obscenely
blood thirsty man. Rob was right - his training served him well, and,
to be brutally honest, he didn't totally dislike the whipping - only the
man who was doing it. When he allowed himself to forget about the doctor,
the ten-year old revelled in the variety and texture of the whips, and
allowed himself to be beaten front and back, and even upside down, so that
the evil medic had a clearer run at his small balls. The wicked man was
panting and sweating after twenty minutes, but Rob goaded him on, hurling
boyish insults at him. After half an hour, the boy was spent and the
man had collapsed. The match was a draw, but Rob looked him in the eye.
"You will never, never touch me in any way again unless I want you to,"
he said.  "You can see I'm stronger than you, old man".

For once, the man's gentle face looked angry and a little afraid. When
regained his breath, he walked slowly out of the chamber, and sent in
the tormentors, who'd been waiting outside, peeping through a crack in
the door, to release the brave boy from the whipping board, and treat
his wounds with unusual ointments, so that he would be able to perform
the next day.

A few minutes later, the boys stood in a line looking up at Lord Wolf.

"You knew it would be you in the cage tonight, Peter," he boomed,
"as you wounded one of my tormentors...so, as extra punishment, I have
decided that you will spend the night in a crab position, with your
balls tied to the roof of the cage, clamps on your nipples, your back
arched, and your hands and feet tied to the floor...is that understood?"
"Yes sir!" Peter replied smartly, defiantly even, before he was marched
off. Rob really admired his friend's courage.

Paul collapsed beside him, overcome by the horror of the ordeal that his
older brother was about to endure. Rob gently picked up the nine-year-old,
cradling him and whispering.  "Hey, that's no good Paul! You've got
to be stronger than that, for your brother's sake.  We aren't gonna
let him spend the night like that...we're going to mount a late-night
rescue, you'll see...but be ready, I'm going to need your help...don't
go to sleep!"

The boys were led off to their separate cells. Lord Wolf looked as though
he may have been about to say something to Rob, but then appeared to
decide against it.  As Rob lay on his small bed, staring at the ceiling,
he began to wonder however he was going to fulfill his promise to Paul,
and rescue Peter, who must already be swinging high above the pool,
in the throes of agony.

(ENDS)(copyright by Speedyboy, Oct 2003) (NOTE TO MEMBERS: Anyone like
to take up the thread of the story and describe what happens next? All
contributions welcome, however brief!  Or why not start a completely new
story on a different subject. Or why not give me some feedback: email
me and let me know what you think, if there's anyone out reading this!)