JAMES BOND’S BOYHOOD ADVENTURES

(Jersey, Channel Islands, 31^st December 1941)

The fact that the Channel Islands were still occupied by the hated Germans, along with the associated curfew and severe rationing, meant that New Year’s Eve would not be celebrated publicly or with any enthusiasm by the local population. The populace instead mainly emained in their homes or those of friends to commemorate the occasion as best they could in the circumstances.

The general depression was compounded by the rounding up of Jews for deportation to the European mainland and, as far as the Islanders were currently concerned, uncertain fates. The existence of concentration camps was not presently known to the populace.

The fact that other Islanders had also been deported to experience the same fate added to the pervading gloom. The poor people concerned had been caught trying to assist the Jews or some escaped Slavic slave workers, who had recently been imported to help build the substantial local fortifications personally ordered by Hitler, or detected secretly listening illegally to the BBC broadcasts on the radio.

Nevertheless, Churchill’s stirring radio broadcasts helped to ensure that morale did not totally collapse. A glimmer of hope for the future also arose from the recent sudden entry of the USA into the war and a degree of optimism as to how the advent of such a mighty nation might affect the future direction of the world conflict.

There was one particular young native of Jersey who did not share his people’s general depression. As his parents celebrated hogmanay as best they could by sharing some home-made beer downstairs, 14 year-old Trevelyn was gazing out of the window of his unlit dark bedroom, whilst joyously eating a precious bar of chocolate.

Trevelyn had recently earned the chocolate for perpetrating an infamous act of treachery in respect of a similarly aged fellow pupil of Jersey High School for Boys. As his unfortunate young victim lived nearby, in a house visible from the 14 year-old’s bedroom window, the young sadistic traitor decided to spend New Year’s Eve surveying the scene in expectation of an imminent arrest. He was not forced to wait too long for the delicious event to occur.

A small column of German M3 half-tracked vehicles suddenly ominously appeared out of the darkness of night, both foreboding in appearance and prospect for the boy now to be arrested. Leading the column were two armoured personnel carriers, or ‘APCs’, full of SS soldiers. They were followed by a pair of gun motor carriages, or ‘GMCs’, armed with 75-millimetre weapons.

The uniformed SS soldiers, led by Obersturmbannfuehrer Stromberg, were accompanied by an ugly-looking youth, dressed in a neat suit with shirt and tie. The latter 16 year-old was Rottenfuehrer Blofeld, a junior officer of the Gestapo, who displayed a wicked smile of his face.

Blofeld was not the type of person to celebrate events like New Year’s Eve with any kind of mirth. However, he was prepared to make an exception on this occasion, as he would, with Stromberg’s kind permission, be spending the whole night alone with the very pretty 14 year-old boy who was about to be arrested. The venue for the happy time anticipated was to be a cellar in Jersey’s SS headquarters, which was located in the Island’s capital of St. Helier.

The cellar, comprehensively equipped for the purpose with a full array of items, both ancient and modern, was currently used as the local SS torture facility. As a result of his imminent use of the amenity, Blofeld fully expected that one of the four empty jars, which were situated on his mantelpiece in Dinard in Brittany, France, would quickly receive certain overdue contents to preserve as a memento of the highly pleasurable overnight event. The Gestapo Rottenfuehrer also hoped that the other three containers would additionally soon be required to store similar extracted male attributes, as a result of the information he was confident that he would soon gain from his next young victim of extensive torture and mutilation.

(Dinard, Brittany, France, same time)

The French inhabitants of Dinard, like their counterparts on Jersey, which was not far away from the French port, being just across the Gulf of St. Malo, were not celebrating New Year’s Eve publicly or with much enthusiasm. However, the local German garrison was not so restrained, apart from a few unlucky soldiers whose turn it was to guard certain key points, and they had been reduced in number to a minimum, as no one expected trouble on such a night.

Such Germanic optimism was, however, not well founded, with the minimising and lack of wariness of the local guards on New Year’s Eve proving rather fatal for a number of the occupying soldiers, currently drunkenly celebrating the occasion in a military canteen. Copious beer and wine had been confiscated without recompense from the people of Dinard for the party, and some of the town’s whores and other female collaborators had been recruited to provide the men with appropriate company.

"There’s French women in the hut," beautiful 13 year-old Antoine, who was peering through a set of binoculars, informed Felix Leiter. The latter was a young American who had volunteered for service with the British Secret Operations Executive, or SOE.

"Should we still fire?" Antoine then asked, with clear concern about killing female fellow nationals evident in his young voice, which had not yet broken. Felix had tried his best to avoid endangering the boy, who was the late beloved Jean’s younger brother. However, the 13 year-old’s gorgeous face, adorned by straight silky brown hair and sensuous eyes of the same hue, eventually won the day after he had pleaded his case to join the American on some of his missions of sabotage and slaughter.

"My name’s Antoine," the 13 years old had announced when introducing himself over 3 weeks previously, "I’m Jean’s younger brother and I’ve come to kill Bosch!" In the end, Felix could not deny the boy the right and this was the first occasion on which he granted his younger partner his wish.

"They’re collaborators, fraternising with the enemy," Felix answered in response to Antoine’s question, "and so must accept the dangers and possible consequences for their unpatriotic actions. We can’t miss this rare opportunity to kill many Bosch just because of the presence of such women. I know that my stance might be hard but the Germans exhibit much more callousness and we must fight fire with fire!" None of the adult French members of the local resistance movement would have given a different response to that proffered by their American colleague.

Soon afterwards, the first of several shells, loaded in efficient quick succession by Antoine, just as he had recently been trained by Felix, into the mortar previously carefully aimed by the American, landed accurately on the German canteen. The hut immediately exploded in a great fireball, with the local death and destruction completed by further rapid explosions.

By the time that the last mortar shell landed, there was no sign anywhere in the vicinity of the weapon or the people that had fired the deadly bombs. Meanwhile, a large number of German soldiers and their French lady friends never witnessed the advent of 1942.

(Jersey, Channel Islands, same time)

14 year-old James Bond was playing with his younger brother by 2 years, John, the new game of ‘Monopoly’ that he had received as a parental present during the last peacetime Christmas, namely that of 1938. The pastime had been introduced from the USA into the UK 2 years before that date and had quickly become very popular.

Meanwhile, the close friends of the young Bond brothers, and fellow members of their furtive organisation ‘Jerm’, or ‘Jersey Resistance Movement’, 14 year-old David and Moneypenny and 12 year-old Maureen, were spending New Year’s Eve with their own respective families in their own nearby homes. John had earlier been relieved to discover that he and his similarly aged girlfriend had been too drunk, as a result of consuming too many martinis, shaken not stirred, to have indulged in full sex with each other. However, apart from the obvious evidence that they had both undressed, neither could also recall what they had been up to instead.

James’ counter had just landed on the ‘go to jail’ square of his ‘Monopoly’ board when he and his brother, and their mother who was sitting nearby, knitting a new jumper for her older son, heard a commotion outside.

(Brittany, France, shortly afterwards)

The motorcycle, with a young man driving and a boy riding pillion, swept into the yard outside the remote farmhouse, scattering a few somnolent animals in the process. The brave 13 year-old, who had been grateful to be granted the recent honour of triggering the mortars to kill Bosch, was amazed that he was still alive, although his fears had not stemmed from potential capture by Germans.

Antoine was instead surprised at his mere survival from the recent motorcycle journey from Dinard, which Felix had miraculously successfully undertaken with great speed but without the benefit of using his headlight. Use of the latter equipment might have allowed Germans to detect their presence, as they swiftly rushed along some of the quieter of the narrow winding back roads of the Brittany countryside on a dark, cloudy, moonless night.

(Jersey, Channel Islands, same time)

16 year-old Blofeld, whose huge hidden cock was already throbbing and rigid within his trousers, smiled at the beautiful naked boy. The latter 14 year-old was suspended spreadeagled from the ceiling of the cellar of SS headquarters, with his dangling feet kept wide apart by rope fixed to rings firmly embedded in the stone floor. The Rottenfuehrer’s young prisoner was suffering, and not just from the agony induced by the rope biting painfully into his wrists and ankles. His shameful nudity added considerably to his woes.

"Now, boy," Blofeld explained to the 14 year-old, "you will answer all of my questions truthfully." "I will, I will!" his terrified young prisoner, whose gorgeous sublime torso was completely hairless, even in the area of his delicious uncut genitalia, lied in response.

"I’m sure you won’t at first," Blofeld perceptively retorted, "but, in order to ensure that I eventually secure the full truth from you, I shall solicit the help of some friends." "What friends?" the worried boy then enquired.

"These!" Blofeld replied, as he walked across the cellar towards a large closed cupboard, which had been positioned against the cool dank wall about 10 metres in front of the dangling young nude. The Rottenfuehrer then opened the doors of the cabinet.

The dangling boy’s lovely sensuous but currently damp eyes widened in horror when he saw what was contained within the cupboard. The beautiful 14 year-old’s unease was compounded when Blofeld introduced his ‘friends’, providing a graphic description of their precise roles in ensuring that the young prisoner eventually spoke the truth during the very lengthy interrogation to come.

The still grinning Blofeld introduced the appalled boy to the various implements neatly stored on hooks and shelves. These included a selection of clamps with screws for use on fingers and toes. There was also a particularly severe pair for nipples, capable, if used to the extreme, of severing both male and female tits.

Blofeld then introduced the boy to the ball clamps, which, if similarly used to excess, would crush his young prisoner’s testicles. Attention subsequently turned to a much bigger metallic contraption, which the Rottenfuehrer described as being for the head, being designed to hold the skull motionless and keep the mouth open wide, whilst teeth or tongue were played with or extracted.

In order to inflict such bodily harm, there were naturally pliers and knives within the cupboard, along with a specially adapted soldering iron. This effective but sadistic instrument disposed of the need for having to roast branding rods in a brazier and was supported in its awful purpose by the presence of a paraffin-fuelled blowtorch.

Blofeld also introduced the petrified boy to the varied selection present in the cupboard of brutal wooden and metal catheters and dildos, of various cruel dimensions. A few of these were spiked, whilst some of the metallic variety were, like some clamps and if connected to the appropriate machine, capable of transmitting agonising electrical pulses.

As he had done previously in similar circumstances, Blofeld then advised the boy that he presumed the 14 year-old was intelligent enough to appreciate to what use the selection of paddles, canes, straps and whips could be put. To reinforce his point, the Rottenfuehrer removed one vicious-looking short-handled barbed whip from its hook and began to flail it menacingly through the air in front of the helpless nude young prisoner. However, the ugly sadistic 16 year-old interrogator did not immediately demonstrate how the cruel metal tip of the leather thong would feel when used to flog young flesh.

Blofeld instead advanced to the dangling spreadeagled boy and began to feel the helpless 14 year-old’s delightful genitals, which consisted of a currently flaccid but, for the owner’s age, nicely long and slender cock and pleasant low-hanging scrotum. "I can also use a special knife that I possess," the Rottenfuehrer advised, as he continued to fondle the smooth and vulnerable juvenile sexual organs and remembered a certain empty jar on his mantelpiece in Dinard, "to circumcise or castrate you."

"Or perhaps," Blofeld then threatened, as he felt the 14 year-old’s cock now grow to become fully hard and ivory-like in response to his manual and verbal attentions, "I should cut your genitals completely away for exhibiting such unruly lack of control!" The Rottenfuehrer was rewarded for what was actually much more than a threat, being his ultimate real intent, by an eruption of boyish semen, which despoiled the junior Gestapo officer’s previously neat suit trousers.

The boy’s beautiful nude body visibly flushed from head to toe. Despite his unhappy situation and supposed dangling immovability within the confines of his tight rope bondage, his wondrous form also noticeably rattled, as he experienced highly pleasurable but also immensely shameful orgasm, of an intensity rarely known before. The 14 year-old additionally, and incongruously given his circumstances and the threats to his welfare, ejaculated more semen than he had ever produced previously, with most landing vigorously on Blofeld’s trousers.

"You’ll suffer for that, Jersey scum," Blofeld next menaced, "but which of my many implements should I use first?" The Rottenfuehrer then turned to feign scrutiny of the various devices in the cupboard, despite already knowing with what tool he would first hurt the boy. However, he did not delay too long in revealing what this would be to his young victim, who was slowly recovering from his thoroughly agreeable but apparently masochistic climax.

As Blofeld had also previously done in similar circumstances, he eventually turned back to the finally recovered dangling boy to reveal "Actually none of these. Instead, I propose to start with this."

Blofeld then unbuttoned the fly of his cum-stained trousers to expose his huge rigid member, as the dangling 14 year-old’s eyes widened even further in shock at realisation as to what his interrogator meant. The Rottenfuehrer recognised the boy’s surprised appreciation of what he intended and laughed, whilst beginning to stroke his massive rampant cock, which drooled copious precum.

Blofeld then continued, also as he had done previously in similar circumstances, "Yes, I’m going to fuck you first. You won’t like it, of course, and may try to resist but that’ll be useless, as your ropes have you immovably spreadeagled in readiness for my little pleasure. I’m sure the whole experience will be delightful for me but very painful for you, both physically and, as I impregnate you with filthy Bosch seed, mentally. Later, I’ll sodomise you again at least once more but by then you’ll be begging me to do it, not out of desire but simply because of what will be the prospective alternatives."

The boy, however, reacted to his imminent fate differently to what Blofeld expected. The 14 year-old’s cock, which had returned to flaccidity after his unexpected humiliating orgasm but still dribbled residual cum, became immediately erect again.

Blofeld, of course, did not yet know that his imminent young victim actually quite liked being impregnated with ‘filthy Bosch seed’, having regularly allowed the Wehrmacht soldier, Helmut, to perpetrate such a deed. However, the boy would have preferred to enjoy such ecstasy in a happier environment and through a less monstrous member than that possessed by the Rottenfuehrer, the immense size of which promised much more pain than pleasure.

The naked Moneypenny also did not appreciate the prospect of what would happen to him after Blofeld had achieved his wicked way with him. The boy was additionally oblivious to the fact that, as he subsequently felt the Rottenfuehrer’s huge rampant damp cockhead press against his exposed sphincter, local clocks were now striking midnight to herald the arrival of 1942.

(To be continued in the penultimate chapter 17 – ‘Losses’)