For Queen & Country

August 17, 1852...The HMS Royal Lion, 72 gun ship of the line, lay hove to in the tranquil waters of the South Pacific as the captain conducted punishment mast. It was a beautiful day and the warm sun played brightly on the glassy sea and washed the freshly varnished decks of the proud warship. Captain Nathaniel Gorman and his senior officers watched as the powerful arm of the young bo's'n drew back with the cat again. The handsome, muscular sailor being whipped was naked and bound to a post, his hard body already deeply welted and oozing blood from the first four lashes. He had six to go.

He had lost his temper and spoken back contemptuously to one of the officers.


The leather straps cut viciously through the still air and the sound of the impact with the waiting flesh followed quickly.


The young sailor's scream echoed piercingly as his body convulsed with the pain.

"I say, Bo's'n Chatsworth does a good hand with the whip, does he not sir?" Lieutenant Devore noted with a pleased smile.
Gorman shrugged,
"Well enough, I suppose. Seems a shame to have to whip a man at all but it is the duty set over me by God and Her Gracious Majesty. I shall not fail in it."
He turned to peer over the rail to where another naked sailor was dangling by his wrists from a yardarm, his hands fisting the ropes to pull himself upwards, causing his body to contract handsomely. He was quite desperate to maintain that stance since if he relaxed his agonized, aching arms his weight would not be communicated to his wrists. There was a third more slender rope just a bit tauter and its loose end was bound tightly around the neck of the young hunk's big genital package.

This was a particularly dreadful, innovative punishment reserved for sailors caught masturbating on the ship, suggested by that wonderfully dedicated young marine ... the new lad fresh abroad in Portsmouth for this cruise ... what was his name again? Ah, yes....

Winthrop ... Peter Winthrop.

Sadistic young bugger. He'd have a brilliant career in the royal navy. A bloody shame there weren't more youngsters like that fine, golden-haired 19 year old, the captain mused.

Down in the assembled ranks of the marine contingent, drawn up to witness the punishments, Peter was enjoying the show immensely. He was torn between watching the whipping and the suffering sailor strung up by wrists and crotch. He was filled with pride that it was he who had suggested that latter form of punishment. Captain Gorman was his idol and he felt privileged to serve under such a strong disciplinarian. He firmly believed it was harsh English discipline that had made the royal navy master of the world's seas. The savage punishments for dereliction conditioned the queen's sailors to always put forth their best bully effort when confronted by the call of duty, obeying all orders without hesitation and spilling their life-blood if necessary.

The punishments, even if they failed to correct the malefactor, or, as often was the case, killed him, still served the excellent purpose of deterrence through example for the rest of a ship's crew.

The day's main example, about to be set as the whipping concluded, was, in Peter's view, quite necessary. The two marines involved had committed the unforgivable sin of being caught drunk on guard duty, having apparently raided the ship's rum kegs. Both had been excellent soldiers and were very young, one 20, the other just 18, but there could be but one punishment. Captain Gorman had, to Peter's relief, not given in to the mushy temptation to extend mercy to the pair.

They were now to be hanged.

The two were marched naked from the brig in which they had been held and were positioned beneath the twin nooses swaying gently in the tropical breeze. They were blindfolded, the ropes snugged around their throats, and a guard knelt to bind the first man's ankles. Both condemned prisoners' wrists were already secured behind their backs. Peter had volunteered to be part of the "hauling" team for the executions and now took his place with two other marines on the loose end of the rope around Tom Hardwood's throat.

Gorman stood on the helm deck above, looking down, and read the brief condemnation.

"Thomas Hardwood and Gabriel Cutter, I have found you in violation of your sacred duty to safeguard this vessel. For this severe dereliction, I am entrusted to apply the queen's justice and I elect to demonstrate that your behaviour cannot be forgiven or mitigated.
Xxxx"You have proven to be unworthy of your uniforms and they have been stripped from you. You shall go naked from this world just as you entered it.
Xxxx"It is my sentence that you be hanged by the neck to strangle until you are dead, dead, dead! And may God have mercy on your souls. Our gracious Queen Victoria has none to extend to you in this life."

At his nod, Peter and his companions hauled on the rope and drew Hardwood's feet from the deck by about two feet. At once the naked body began to writhe and flex and the broad chest heave as the strangling marine fought desperately to suck air into his tortured lungs.

Interestingly, as was usually the case, his penis engorged with blood and rose into steely erection from the erotic stimulation of the hanging.

They tied off Harwood's rope and took up that connected over the yardarm to the younger boy's throat. On a second signal from the captain, they hauled up handsome, slim 18-er Gabe Cutter and set him on the course to his slow, agonizing death. Once the boy was up, Peter saw with horror that the orderly, established procedure had been marred. The guards had forgotten to bind young Gabe's ankles and he was kicking around wildly, walking and dancing with his free, muscular legs.

Peter glanced up at the assembled officer cadre and expected to see outraged fury and hear an order to drop the boy and start again, doing it right. Instead the officers looked openly amused, pointing at the writhing youth and laughing. Even Gorman was smiling as he watched. He turned his own eyes to watch Gabe's performance on the end of his rope and found it strangely erotic.

It really is more entertaining to leave their legs unbound.

And he gasped slightly as the choking teenager's huge, erect cock suddenly exploded into a powerful, spontaneous orgasm and spurted dollops of white cream in a great arc out from his hairy crotch. He had heard that some hanging victims achieved such orgasmic release but had never actually witnessed it! How utterly exciting!

About then a terrible scream echoed over the ship. The wrist-hung sailor's arms had finally given out and he was now hanging by his genitals.

August 28, 1852...

Lieutenant Devore's outrage was all-consuming. His wounded British pride stormed as he gave his report to the captain. Gorman listened without much reaction, barely masking his own fury.

"Bloody bastards!" Devore snarled. "That pipsqueak so-called king, a damned naked savage, actually called Her Majesty's gifts 'trinkets.' Trinkets! He suggested that gifts from the French squadron that passed here a few weeks ago were much more 'pleasing.' The bloody wog claims Commander LeSaure gave him two young sailors to use to amuse and entertain his warriors. Then he said it ... the bastard said the words....
Xxxx"But then the French are ruled, admirably, by this strong soldier-emperor, Napoleon III, not by a weak, foolish woman. What manner of so-called 'men' allow themselves to be ruled by a woman?"

"Sir, we must roll out the cannon and bombard this arrogant barbarian right off his bloody island!"

Devore was, of course, quite right, Gorman thought. By all that was just he should use the immense power of his warship to blast the island kingdom into submission and hang that bloody king. Unfortunately, that simply was not an option.
"Lieutenant, I share your feelings. Absolutely share them. But news of such action would spread like fire among all of the islands of the south Pacific where the French already have the upper hand.
Xxxx"Only in Tonga and here at Karatonga do we really have a chance still of establishing a friendly outpost. We need one desperately on this sea lane if we are to compete in trade across the south Pacific.
Xxxx"Plus we simply do not have the force necessary to properly garrison the island assuming we subjugated it. The French would swoop in from Tahiti to 'liberate' it the moment we sailed off and would then establish a 'protectorate' over both Tonga and Hawaii as well. They've just been looking for an excuse."
He sighed,
"I'm afraid my orders from the admiralty expressly forbid use of force against King Abakoga, no matter what the provocation. Further, my orders are explicit ... Do whatever is necessary, without limitation, to establish a provisioning arrangement with Karatonga to the exclusion of the French."


Devore's eyes were wide and he was gasping in horrified disbelief.
"Oh surely sir, you're not contemplating...."
Gorman waved a hand to silence the shocked younger officer.
"I'm afraid, lieutenant, we have little choice. My orders are very clear and I will obey them to the letter. Our mission is important to the interests of the empire and Her Gracious Majesty.
Xxxx"The men on this ship are mere tools of state, to be used as necessary to accomplish the empire's purposes. Their individual bodies are fully expendable if that is called for. In many ways, they are not unlike the material gifts we brought from the Queen to woo King Abakoga, as much as we may hate having to grace him with such a title. They belong to the Queen to use as she chooses.
Xxxx"If the king wants English flesh as a price for his friendship, that is what we must give him. If the French gave him two of their youths, we shall give him five of our very best. Tomorrow at dawn, assemble the marine squadron in the aft wardroom together with all sailors aboard between 18 and 22."

"Sir ... I beg of you...."


Gorman spoke gently but firmly, understanding the emotions of the younger officer,
"I'm afraid that is an order. We will conduct a lottery to select our sacrificial lambs and I regret I can show no favoritism in this matter. Your brother will have to take his chances with the rest."
August 29, 1852...

Several of the youngest sailors, mere boys, were visibly trembling as they stepped forward one by one to draw a bead from the box on the table in the wardroom. There were three black ones mixed among the flood of white.

After the captain had explained their dilemma, expressing his obvious regret at having to call upon some of the assembled young men to sacrifice themselves for Queen and country, he had explained the lottery.

"Sir," One shaken auburn-haired boy had asked, "Do ... do we know just what they'll do to those of us chosen for this ... this ... gift?"
Gorman shook his head,
"Not explicitly. We know it will be brutal. They enjoy torture. We must assume the selected men will be sacrificed in some horrible fashion to their evil gods. They probably practice cannibalism as commonly done throughout these islands. I would like to lie to you but in fairness I cannot."

"Fuck me," the boy moaned, tears glistening in his big fawn-like brown eyes. "Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to curse in front of ye."

"I know, son, no offense taken," Gorman responded grimly. "Now before we draw, I would offer a chance for any of you who might be willing to volunteer to do so. I know that asks much from you and I will not be disappointed in any of you for choosing just to take your chances in the drawing instead."

And to his horror, a muscular young marine promptly, solemnly stepped forward and offered his body to the Queen's purposes. This boy was his favorite ... the wonderfully promising young Peter Winthrop. Somehow he was not surprised.

Stupid, wonderfully-brave, foolish boy! Such potential to be lost! Why did you have to do this you young idiot!

But Gorman kept his thoughts masked.

He heard Devore gasp in horrified dismay beside him. Nineteen year old Robbie Devore, ever reckless and driven by dangerous, noble pride, seeing his friend Peter step forward, was stung by the blond boy's courage. He could not bear to let his example go unfollowed and the dark-haired adonis stepped forward as well.

NO, Robbie, what are you doing! Have you lost your mind! The older brother stood in frozen anguish but could say or do nothing. He could not ... would not ... shame the younger boy by attempting to use rank to save him, even if Gorman would abide it, which he knew he would not. Robbie would never forgive him if he succeeded.

To his relief, Gorman, in fact, at once made a ploy to prevent the loss of two such outstanding young men.

"On second thought, you two step back into line. In a situation such as this, all men eligible ought to take a full, even chance at being selected for the sacrifice."
There was a stunned murmur of anger among the assembled men. The captain sensed at once he had made a terrible mistake in his attempted favoritism. Peter spoke softly, but firmly, without hesitation.
"With all respect, sir, if Robbie and I choose to reduce the risk to our shipmates, that should be our right. I for one am proud to volunteer. If the Queen's interests call for this use of us, that is all I need to know."

"I ... I feel the same way, sir." Robbie gulped hard but firmly stood his ground beside Peter.

"Very well."

Gorman sighed and the crewmen ceased their discontented shuffling,
"I will see that back home you are honored as the great heros you are."

Then the others began drawing beads until the three black ones had been taken. The first "loser" stood staring at the ebony bead in his fingers as if it were a snake, his eyes full of horrified disbelief. It was Jason Golightly, the handsome kid with the auburn hair, his nightmares come true.

Another handsome, buff sailor and a third hunky marine boy drew the last fatal black beads. The five sacrificial lambs were at once put under guard to await transport to the island after suitable negotiations with the native king. Lieutenant Devore prayed fervently that the savage was already in the pocket of the French and would decline the English suit and their proposed "gift."

August 30, 1852..

Any hope that the Karatongan king would reject their gift was in vain. The way he practically salivated at the five beautiful young men brought before him made that all too clear. Abakoga at once expressed that perhaps he had been too harsh in his judgment of the fitness of a woman to rule.

"This Victoria of yours must be very strong and wise if she has dedicated men such as you in her service, captain. Though my people would never tolerate a woman as a leader, who are we to judge your choices? Her gifts presented by that rather arrogant lieutenant of yours are richer and more fitting than I had initially judged and they are gratefully accepted. Of course I will also happily accept the additional tribute of the fine young men you have brought me. We will make ... excellent ... use of them."
The king's broad, lecherous grin underscored his emphasis of the last words and the surrounding warriors broke into peals of laughter. Gorman gritted his teeth and forced his face to remain neutral. He was glad he had thought to have Lieutenant Devore confined to quarters under guard. He suspected the young fool might try to assassinate Abakoga if he was allowed the slightest opportunity.

After brief negotiation of details, Abakoga agreed to the English treaty of friendship to the exclusion of the French. After briefly expressing his gratitude to his five crewmen and urging them to "die bravely like good Englishmen," Gorman returned to his ship with the rest of his party and shortly the HMS Royal Lion weighed anchor and set sail.

Back on the island, the Karatongans promptly stripped their captives and bound their limbs. Once that was accomplished, the king carefully surveyed his new property. Though all were wonderfully fit and handsome, it was clear that he regarded Peter and Robbie as the real prizes among the group. In particular, he seemed taken with Peter, rubbing the blond stallion's hard, full muscles and prodding with his fingers.

"This one," he finally said, standing back with a broad, happy grin and licking his lips. "Definitely this one for the celebration."
The surrounding warriors snickered and made ribald comments that Peter could not understand.

The king pointed to Robbie,

"And that one will do for machikato."
The two tightly bound marines were taken to a hut and placed under close guard.

Shortly they could hear the agonized shrieks of a man in excruciating pain and knew that the torture of one of the other three had begun. They couldn't know, but it was the auburn-haired boy, Jason Golightly, whom the natives had chosen as the first to provide entertainment.

Jason had been bound between two stout bamboo posts, his legs widely spread. His crotch, belly, inner thighs and dimpled ass lobes were smeared with a clear, sticky substance that adhered smoothly and firmly to his skin ... some type of resin. To his horror, the attention to his substantial genital package gave him a raging erection which clearly pleased and amused his captors to no end.

A hemp cord was then bound tightly around the neck of his manhood and a thick-walled, dried-out coconut husk suspended to dangle between his splayed thighs about a foot below his crotch. The boy strained to peer down to study the thing. A circle of small holes perforated the top, opening into the hollow core of the fibrous husk and a slightly larger hole had also been carved in one side, the piece of wood removed from it retained for use as a stopper.

The grinning, chattering Karatongans all strained to get a good view of their captive as a glowing coal from a campfire was transported to the torture site and inserted into the coconut through the side hole which was then stoppered. The understanding of the nature of his torture hit Jason even as the smoke began to slowly coil in little wisps from the upper vent holes. He started trembling as the first waves of soft heat began to waft around his luscious man parts positioned just above the ingenious little oven.

And then the heat began to intensify as the husk started slowly smoldering from the inside out, the speed of its burn dampered and regulated by the thickness of the wood and chemical retardants naturally contained in the fibers. The husk would bake at length, radiating intense heat, like a chunk of charcoal, before eventually bursting into open flame. In the meantime, the device convected streams of searing heated air from the vent holes directly up between the prisoner's thighs.

As the warmth cuddling his crotch and upper thighs increased, Jason squirmed. As it became less and less tolerable he began to writhe and flex his powerful young body. As it began to slowly roast him, his skin gradually reddening as from a severe sunburn, he started moaning and sobbing. As the first little blisters began to form on his scrotum and cock the boy began to scream and buck against his restraints.

Around him, as his first real shrieks of excruciating suffering rent the air, the Karatongans began to whoop in savage pleasure, many of them openly weeping for joy.

The minutes passed like an eternity for the suffering, screaming English youth as his crotch, thighs, gut and ass steadily roasted, the skin gradually becoming blistered and raw, his genitals in particular blackening as they were destroyed. He endured more than half an hour of suffering from hell before the smoldering husk finally exploded into fierce flame. The moment the tongues of fire darted upwards to actually touch Jason, the flammable resin coating him ignited with a loud whooshing whump and his middle section began to blaze. By then the boy was so deeply in shock that his writhing was feeble and his screams, though renewed, weak and hoarse.

He didn't last much longer. Once he was dead or at least unconscious, his undamaged flesh was butchered from his bones and hauled off to a roasting pit. The highest ranking of the warriors, privileged to dine on the long pig, all agreed that Jason's meat was unusually sweet and tender, much nicer than the somewhat tough and chewy young Frenchman they had devoured a few weeks before.

The fate accorded brawny George Marchman, the other sailor, was equally entertaining to his hosts when he was put to death the following day. In the meantime, in his guarded hut, Peter was undergoing a painful preparation of his own. Warriors repeatedly scrubbed his skin with rough cloth saturated in sea salt, slowly abrading it until it was utterly hairless and almost paper thin. The process hurt horribly and the acidic juices of various fruits mixed with pungent spices rubbed all over him stung brutally. He was starved but forced to drink water in copious amounts until his urine ran almost pure.

He had no doubt he was to be cooked and eaten and even his own nostrils found the new aroma of his body pleasing and mouth-watering. He thought, hopefully, that he had undergone the worst of the prepping when they finally had his skin smoothed, galled and seasoned to their seeming satisfaction. He was wrong ... the worst was still to come. After he had voided the last of his food residues, he was bound between two posts, bent at the waist and learned the true meaning of pain. A thick, hollow tube of flexible, tightly woven fibers was forced up into his rectum, almost tearing his sphincter as it fought the brutal invasion. Then sea-water, heated almost to a boil, was slowly dribbled through the tube until his gut was filled to near bursting.

That agonizing indignity finally caused the tough youngster to give in to his pain and scream, much to the delight of his captors. They finally jerked the tube free and he spewed the steaming water from his bowels. Then the tube was again forced up into his ass canal and again he was filled with the heated saltwater. When they were finally done and returned him to his hut, he lay bound and moaning from the continuing throb of agony from his purified, scalded gut and salt-sanded, seasoned skin.

Robbie, witnessing his friend's torment in horror, fully understanding that Peter was being prepared for cooking like a prime goose at Christmas, had not yet been so much as touched. He could only wonder what terrible fate awaited him. What the hell was this machikato mentioned by the king for which he was designated?
In the meantime, George was brought before the beaming, laughing crowd of Karatongans assembled to enjoy his punishment. A bed of red, glowing coals had been prepared, a circle about ten feet in diameter. The naked sailor, a rope between his wrists tethering them loosely behind his back, was positioned on the edge of the shimmering ring of embers. All around the circle warriors stood grinning, slim bamboo canes in their hands.

Behind George, a warrior drew back his arm and let fly with his cane, catching the young hunk across his bare buttocks.


The sound of cane cutting into skin and muscle echoed in the soft Pacific breezes wafting over the island followed by George's little squeal of pain as every muscle in his hard body contracted in shocked surprise.


Another cane lashed his shoulders, cutting a slim laceration into the tender skin.

This time George cried out in a loud bellow at the burst of searing pain and involuntarily lunged forward, stepping into the glowing bed of coals. With a terrible shriek he jumped back, his feet and ankles slightly blistered and smoking. And the canes flew anew.

He faced a diabolic dilemma. Step into the bed of coals or be flayed by the swooshing canes. He tried to withstand the whipping but when a well-directed cane lash caught him square across the crotch, with a demented bellow he doubled and fell backwards into the waiting embers. With blistering burns peppering his back, buttocks and legs, he managed to leap to his feet and ran to the far edge of the circle, only to be met by a buzzing swarm of lashing canes wielded by laughing warriors.

He staggered back, bleeding from cane welts across his chest, belly and thighs, but the pain of his burning feet forced him to again dash to face the waiting bamboo whips. Forced back into the coals, he finally just stayed there trembling and screaming, tears streaming down his cheeks, hopping madly, comically from one blackened, smoking foot to the other. Eventually he again tried to leap from the bed of glowing coals only to again meet a rush of whooshing canes cutting the air ... and his body. One cane caught his genitals and almost castrated him.

This time when he fell, he couldn't get up and just rolled around screaming in the bed of coals, his entire body becoming one great mass of deep, blistered burns. After a mercifully short while, he fainted. He was quickly hauled from the coals and revived so he could feel the final agony as his gut was sliced open and his innards pulled forth.

The Karatongans agreed that George too provided a wonderful little feast after his gutted corpse was stuffed with fruit and properly roasted.

At dawn the next day, Robbie learned the nature of machikato. As he was dragged from the hut, his last vision of Peter was of the marine writhing and moaning as, laughing loudly with pleasure, the king's "chefs" applied a fresh coating of the aromatic but irritating seasoned juices to his skin.

The dark-haired stud was conveyed to the far side of the island where a deep sheltered lagoon lay blocked off from the sea by a massive coral reef rising to the very surface of the water. The vast body of placid water, covering hundreds of acres of seabed, was like a monstrous aquarium, teeming with trapped fish of every size, hue and shape.

A small jetty of stones had been built out a distance of some twenty feet from the shore to where the beach dropped swiftly into deep water. A stout pole, the bole of a monstrous coconut palm, had been set into a hole laboriously worked into the rocky pier. Another, smaller pole, affixed by ropes to the first, was pivotal. Robbie was conducted with solemn pomp to this device, hefted into the air and his wrists drawn up and securely bound to the crossbeam. When released, he dangled with his feet just above the stone of the jetty. The crossbeam was pivoted out and tied down, leaving the handsome, boyish marine about a foot above the glassy surface of the lagoon.

The process had been performed quickly, the natives watching the lagoon with seeming nervous anticipation, several standing with stout spears at the ready. When Robbie was positioned to their satisfaction, a basket containing the bloody entrails saved from George's gutting was empted into the water and the Karatongans swiftly retreated to join the rest of their people eagerly lining the shore.

After just a minute or so, the waters below Robbie began to suddenly undulate and ripple as though some great movement was passing through the area. An excited murmur ran through the watching crowd and a soft chant began, almost like a wavering sigh increasing slowly to a throbbing roar of ecstasy.

"Machikato! Machikato! Machi-kato! Machi-kato! MACHI-KATO!"
The throb of drums staccatoed an echoing accompaniment to the chant and many of the warriors began a sort of shuffling dance step on the sands lining the edge of the lagoon.

Suddenly a great, black fin cut the water about fifty yards from the dangling Englishman. The boy gasped at the monstrous size of the shark gliding through the lagoon, cutting the placid surface like a knife. Almost lazily it circled, pausing to quickly draw in the bloody entrails floating just below the surface as it passed near enough to Robbie for him to get a good look at it.

The shark, almost certainly a great white, had been trapped somehow within the lagoon and had grown to at least twenty feet in length. It had also grown accustomed to this interesting process by which these strange two-legged land creatures occasionally offered one of their own for a welcome, easily-taken meal. Becoming agitated with feeding lust after the tantalizing taste of George's bloody guts, the huge eating machine dove deep, then came racing straight up from below Robbie's feet.

The terrified boy, seeing the gaping jaws rising towards him like an express train, the rows of serrated teeth gleaming in the sunlight percolating through the clear water, drew his knees up in a futile effort to find safety.


His scream echoed over the lagoon.

Then the great jaws closed around him like a steel trap and ripped him from his dangling rope with such force that the shoulders were utterly dislocated and one arm was literally ripped loose. It continued to hang from the rope, swaying to and fro like a gory pendulum long after the rest of Robbie had vanished beneath the water, carried off in the shark's maw.

After just moments the roiling waters beneath the dangling rope calmed and were again placid and glassy, the steady dribble of blood from the severed arm creating little ripples as they splashed down.

Machikato had again been honored and its voracious appetite sated.

That evening, just at dusk, Peter and the other surviving marine were led to a clearing deep in the heart of the island where a great stone god, carved from lava blocks, stood waiting for their sacrifice. Compared to the end accorded both Jason and George, that given Richard "Dickie" Dalton was relatively swift, though agonizing.

His legs were stretched far out to either side and forced to remain straight by bamboo poles bound to the underside of the limbs. His wrists were drawn out and bound to his ankles.

In this strained, utterly helpless posture, the dark-haired teenager was hefted up in the arms of several warriors. His exposed, vulnerable anus was positioned against the point of a thick bamboo post embedded in the ground before the stone idol.

The executioners turned to look at King Abakoga, his face hidden behind a scowling war mask, waiting for his signal to proceed. The king raised one arm.

The warriors lowered Dickie until his ass was deeply impaled on the post and then let him go. For a long, pregnant moment, the impaled youth dangled screaming on the top of the post, a thick ridge in the bamboo snagging on his flesh where it entered his torn sphincter and holding him in place.

Then with cruel slowness the weight of his muscular body began to draw the screaming youth downwards and the post edged gradually up through his body until it finally entered the chest cavity and exploded his lungs and heart.

Now only Peter survived and he eyed the thick bed of coals beneath the bamboo frame that awaited him. He felt an almost stoic relief that it was finally going to end. He sensed his guts had been fatally damaged by the scalding enemas and his body was in such constant searing pain that death would be a mercy, however slow the actual cooking might prove to be.

He was laid on a stone slab and his legs bent outwards at the knees in a frog-like position. A grinning "chef" positioned the needle-point of a long bamboo spear to the right calf and drove it in. Peter found himself screaming at the searing pain as his calf was skewered and then the bamboo spit driven through the thick meat of his right thigh. The rod was pressed through until the point could be positioned in his right armpit and forced through his shoulder and on out for several feet.

A second spear was skewered through his left leg and shoulder in a similar fashion. In the meantime, pieces of chopped up fruit were being forced steadily up into his Ass-hole until his gut felt like it would explode. A pot of honey and fruit juice was brought to his mouth and he was made to drink it down until his belly was full, then a leather ball was shoved into his mouth to act as a stopper to keep him from regurgitating any his "stuffing."

His body was again doused liberally with juices and spices, this time mixed in a sticky base of honey so that the marinade adhered to his skin in a sleek, clear coating.

Thus prepared, the beautiful blond marine was hefted by the spits piercing his body and laid out over the waiting bed of coals.

He was slow-roasted at great length, being turned occasionally to get an even effect and soon the air was full of the delicious aroma of his cooking meat. Somewhere in his dazed, numbed mind, even the boy, starved for three days, had to agree that he smelled just wonderful.

They kept his head away from the rising heat, even bathing his face with cool water to keep him alive for a remarkable time. He was still living and feverishly, carefully sliced from his thighs. His fully roasted, steaming genitals were carved from between his legs. These were taken to the king and Peter heard the monarch compliment his chefs, exclaiming in delight at how truly delicious the English boy's cock and balls tasted.

Only then did the blissful, peaceful darkness of oblivion finally sweep over him.