Date: Mon, 24 Nov 2003 03:48:42 -0000 (GMT)
From: ok_uwater@merlads.net
Subject: boy-daredevils-in-speedos-4

Boy Daredevils in Speedos 4

Copyright by Speedyboy, Nov 2003.  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, Rln1966@aol.com.

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

Rob lost no time diving back into the pool and began negotiating his
way through the grim, forbidding tunnels to his next ordeal. He knew the
next two tasks would take place in the same chamber, referred to as the
Playground, and that the second of the two - the last of the day - would
require all three boys to cooperate to survive. He had been required to
memorize two routes already, and his young body and mind had taken more
punishment in one single day than the ten-year-old had ever endured in his
entire boyhood. But the pain seemed to sharpen his mind, and strengthen
his muscles, and he swam on, ignoring his hunger for oxygen, rest and
warmth. He imagined he was half-fish and half-boy...or an eel perhaps,
wriggling through the water. With a leisurely grace, he climbed from the
water into the appointed chamber, rubbed himself down with the purple
towels he found at the water's edge, and adjusting his purple speedos
carefully so that they looked smart. He was ready for the Playground.

It was like a dream from his earlier childhood...massive, oversized
swings, a huge roundabout, an enormous seesaw, a dizzyingly tall climbing
frame, an impossibly high slide a metal rocking horse, and other pieces
of equipment less easy to identify. The equipment towered over the young
boy, and had evidently been designed to look sinister and brutal, rather
than colourful and welcoming. The pre-teen suddenly felt a lot younger
and more vulnerable.

Almost as if they sensed his moment of weakness, the tormentors
appeared. They pulled him roughly towards the swings. Rob was tied
brutally onto one of then, in a strange position unlike anything he
had adopted in his earlier days. His hands and feet were bound to the
seat of the swing, so that his body hung down below it, with his belly
pointing towards the floor.  A pair of tormentors started pushing Rob
back and forth, higher and faster with each pass.  Rob straightened
his body to avoid scraping the floor, but gravity inevitably won and
Rob's speedo, stomach, and chest violently slapped the rough flagstones.
Rob yelped as the sting pulsed through his body.  The chains met at a
point so that the swing could turn to any angle.  The tormentors started
spinning Rob as he swung back and forth.  Sometimes he careened past
the flagstones chest first, other times he made first contact with his
speedo. Worst was when he slammed the floor sideways.  He stiffened to
keep his torso from twisting excessively.  Rob became disoriented as
the tormentors flung him back and forth.  He could not remember which
way was up or forward.  He world became a blur defined only by the
relentless waves of pain surging from the floor.  After five minutes,
or was it ten? the ordeal stopped.  Rob slumped onto a puddle of his
sweat on the floor.  The scrapes and bruises on Rob's front protested,
but he had no strength to lift himself.  Rob wondered if the ordeal was
over when the floor fell away.  The tormentors were shortening the chain.
When Rob was suspended about a foot above the floor one of the tormentors
pulled his wet body back to launch position.  Rob was facing away from the
swing, but he looked down his body and saw the other tormentor setting up
bowling pins in the center.  A pole was tied behind Rob's knees to keep
his legs separated, and he was launched again, this time to the side.
Having regained some of his strength, Rob stiffened as he surveyed his
new predicament.  The tormentors were playing a game of knock-down,
and Rob did not have to wonder which part of him would do most of the
knocking.  Sure enough, after a couple of practice swings Rob's crotch
made contact with one of the pins.  It was off to the side, so he only
grazed it, but he still knocked it flying, and a wave of throbbing pain
reverberated through his body.  The center pins would hit much harder.
Rob gritted his teeth and relished the challenge as he flew back and
forth, and decided he would play the game, too.  One of the tormentors
had tickled Rob's speedo and rubbed his nipples while fastening him
to the swing.  Rob decided to reward the affection.  He smirked as the
tormentor catapulted him towards the center, and intentionally drooped
his body so that he would hit the next pin square on.  The pain did
not disappoint him, and he spun wildly to the side as the heavy pin
tumbled in the other direction.  Now Rob came into the hands of the
tormentor who had merely slapped and yanked him.  He raised his body so
that the pins whooshed harmlessly below him.  Again Rob favored the other
tormentor, letting his body swing out to ensure contact with an outer pin.
His throbbing balls protested, but Rob relished the pain even more, now
that it had a purpose.  The tormentors soon realized Rob's game within
a game.  The favored one rewarded Rob with tickles and strokes as he
aimed him for the next pass.  The thwarted opponent became frustrated,
slamming Rob's shoulders with his fists and wrenching him violently as
he hurled him back at the pins.  That only increased Rob's resolve to
add frustration.  He only had to use his strength half the time now,
so it was not too hard to stiffen and wriggle to dodge the pins when
he wanted.  Dizziness returned as Rob whirled and swung.  The ache in
his crotch seemed to be projecting up his torso.  He lost track of how
many pins he had pounded, or was it the other way around?  Nonetheless,
it was easy to keep track of which tormentor was on his side and which
one to thwart.  He steeled his aching body and kept to his task.  Finally,
he could see no more pins standing, and was brought to an abrupt stop at
the center.  His tormentor friend, who had scored all but one of the knock
downs, came forward and buried Rob's face in the front of his speedo,
as his humiliated rival roughly released the bindings.  Rob plopped onto
the flagstones, reawakening the cuts and bruises of the earlier game.
His body quivered.  He was panting and sweating, and smiling.

Rob had no idea his body could take such a beating.  He wondered if any
of the pain that permeated his body signalled actual injury.  He knew he
could request a check-up by the doctor, but everything he had heard about
the vicious medic discouraged him from doing so.  He took a few moments
to gather himself, and then jumped into the water to bathe his wounds.
The cold water on his skin dulled the pain.  He rubbed his balls through
his now thread bare speedo.  A new pair of purple speedos awaited him
on the towels when he emerged a few minutes later.

The two other boys had arrived, but this time they met under very
different circumstances. He approached the enormous seesaw, where each
had been tied securely face-up at opposite ends.  They were bruised and
scraped like Rob.  They had obviously had a hard day, too.  He tried
to give them each a confidence inspiring look, but they were concerned
about this last and hardest ordeal of the day.  A narrow section of floor
beneath the seesaw slid away, revealing a trough of water.  The bound boys
would be dunked alternately as the seesaw went slowly up and down...first
one boy, and then the other.  The older boy, a slim blond eleven year
old named Peter, would go underwater first, and remain there until Rob
completed a painful and time-consuming task.  Then the other boy, nine
year old Paul, who must have been Peter's brother as the two looked so
alike, would go under, until Rob had successfully completed another task.
And so on.

"Don't worry, guys", Rob blustered, "I've got you covered."

The brothers smiled wanly.  Rob had been apprised of the tasks in the
morning briefing, and knew he had a trick up his sleeve...he'd got lucky
with this part of the ordeal...really lucky.  Rob gave Peter a thumbs
up as the seesaw tipped, submerging the eleven year old.  Only his feet
protruded above the surface.  Rob sprinted to his task.  Now he was Rob
the monkey, scampering to the top of the improbably tall climbing frame,
A pair of handcuffs awaited him at the top.  He clamped them on with some
difficulty, and awkwardly stepped through them on the small platform so
that his hands were secured behind his back.  He poised at the edge.
Twelve feet below him a pile of gravel sloped away toward the water's
edge.  He steeled his little body, and then, with a defiant whoop, the
ten-year-old deliberately hurled himself himself from the high apparatus.
The peak of the pile was closer, but Rob knew better than to land on
the pile with his feet.  Instead he rolled and landed on the slope with
the length of his body.  He slid to the bottom on his back and arms,
the sharp stones tearing at his soft skin.  He stopped at the bottom,
and an avalanche of stones followed between his legs and piled up on
his crotch.  He was stunned by the impact and the pain, but quickly
shook it off.  He lifted himself, and saw Peter rise from the water,
shaking and blowing a spume of water as his head broke the surface.
Paul's eyes widened as he went under.  The shorter nine year old
completely disappeared beneath the surface.

A streak of cuts and bruises ran down Rob's back, but he hadn't broken
any bones.  He ran to the other end of the giant frame, and started
climbing.  He was still handcuffed, but the side was sloped, so he could
ascend awkwardly.  He struggled to keep his balance, and the bars dug
into his feet.  Again Rob reached the top platform, and he plunged onto
the gravel pile again.  He rolled slightly as he slid down, trying to keep
the new abrasions away from earlier bruises.  Rob's speedo was destroyed,
and the swath of cuts and bruises ran from his shoulders to his thighs.
The pain was still tremendous, but it was compensated when Rob reached
the bottom and saw Paul emerge from the trough alive and conscious.

Peter took a deep breath as he went back under.  A tormentor removed
the cuffs and tossed Rob a fresh speedo.  Rob jumped into it as he
hustled to his next challenge.  He scrabbled up the high slide, past
a barrel of water which had been placed at the foot of the ladder, to
the top of the apparatus.  The metal slide was not going to be heated
that day, although it might be on another occasion. Instead, obeying
his instructions, Rob turned around so that he was looking back down
the steps at the shallow tub below. He stretched elegantly and adopted a
classic diver's Y-position with his arms above his head, showing his rib
cage. He steadied himself, and then dived hard, head first, right into
the barrel.  This was the part Rob thanked his luck.  He was already an
accomplished boy-stunt-diver, thanks to his own private efforts in his
back yard. He had seen a TV programme about Mexican boys doing exactly the
same trick, into even smaller amounts of water and from higher heights,
when he was just seven. He had watched transfixed, recognizing his
destiny in the amazing images on the screen. Learning the art had been
a painful process, but he had mastered it by his ninth birthday. It may
seem impossible, but that only adds to the thrill, if you're the kind
of boy who is prepared to suffer to improve performance.  Of course,
Rob had never mentioned his special skill to Wolf or anyone else...it
was not the kind of thing that comes up naturally in conversation,
and he was not a boastful boy by nature. Peter emerged, and Paul went
down, and the diver repeated his stunt, this time fooling everyone
into thinking for a heart-stopping moment that he was going to miss
his target, before emerging triumphantly. The brothers were released,
and flung themselves on top of Rob in sheer joy, so that all three
youngsters ended up rolling around on the floor, deliriously happy,
a mass of arms and legs and speedos.

But their boyish pleasure was short-lived . It was time for Lord Wolf to
appear, to identify the boy who'd given the weakest performance of the
day, and who would therefore spend the night suspended in a cage above
a pool. The two blond boys protested shrilly when Lord Wolf's finger
pointed slowly and deliberately at Rob, and the aristocrat reminded
him, with no pity in his voice, that he had initially failed his very
first task.  Worse still, the boy was bundled away by the medic for
a check-up.  Dr Jamboree had kept his eye on the youngster since he had
arrived, and had spent the day in wicked contemplation. The cruel doctor
had rewired the cameras in his surgery so that it looked as though he
was simply treating the boy's injuries. But he was not.  Regrettably,
I cannot reveal here what he was really getting up to, but suffice it
to say it was far worse, in its way, than anything else the boy had
endured that day. It was a bleak end to Rob's debut at Poseidon Manor,
nursing his wounds in a cage with no food or warmth, with the dark water
mocking him from below, reminding him of the potentially-fatal plunge
which awaited him early the next morning...

(ENDS)(What happens to the boys the next day? Why don't you add a chapter,
describing it?! Or just sketch out a few ideas, if you don't have time
for anything longer...or make up a completely new story! Best wishes,
Speedyboy.)