James Bond's Boyhood Adventures 11

By Pueros

(With thanks to Erik for some of the original ideas behind this saga.)

Chapter 11 – Summer

(Near Smolensk, U.S.S.R., July 1941)

Yuri was already beginning to regain consciousness, probably for the last time in his sadly all too young life, before he reached the Waffen S.S. mobile headquarters. Blood trickled down the side of the boy’s beautiful but currently rather grimy face, from the flesh wound on his lovely head created by the bullet from one of his captors’ rifles. The summer night was hot but this was not the reason why beads of sweat now began to form on the 12 year old’s brow, as his stirring and appalled mind began to realise his awful predicament.

Two members of the already rightfully dreaded Schutzstaffel held one of Yuri’s arms apiece, with several other armed colleagues of their S.S. patrol flanking their diminutive unarmed young captive. One of the men held the condemning prize of the coded message in his hand. The boy now appreciated their mutual destination, surely, his tremulous mind thought, shortly to be the scene of much pain and his own death. The structure was a large military caravan, almost surrounded by well-lit canvas awnings, seemingly obliviously uncaring of any nighttime aerial threats from the Russian airforce, much of which had actually been destroyed on the ground on the first day of ‘Operation Barbarossa’.

Yuri was dragged through one of the canopy doorways, inside of which was the well-equipped interrogation facility. The boy’s escorts immediately reported their capture to the officer in charge, a newly promoted Hauptsturmfuhrer.

“Strip him,” the Hauptsturmfuhrer commanded, “and suspend him in the usual spot. I’ll question him without delay. Meanwhile, dig a hole for his body, as I doubt that he’ll be in any position soon to prepare his own burial place!”

(Dinard, Brittany, France, same time)

Blofelds Senior and Junior had rushed, with a military escort, from Gestapo headquarters to Dinard waterfront after hearing the loud explosion that had consigned a German E-boat to the bottom of the harbour. The only remaining sign of the vessel was a masthead, just visible in torchlight above the waterline. On the quayside, lay the dead body of the Wehrwacht guard.

“These sabotage events are becoming far too numerous and successful for my liking,” Blofeld Senior announced with annoyance, “but, as you know, current restrictions prevent me from doing what I want to stop them. I’m sure that lining up a few of the locals against a brick wall and shooting them every time such an incident occurs will soon bring such dastardly deeds to a halt!”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Blofeld Junior ruefully replied. His father’s influence had managed to secure the transfer of the now 17 years old from the Hitler Youth to service with his male parent’s plainclothes Gestapo unit. The evil youth, too cowardly to join the military, had been delighted at the move, particularly as it provided him with opportunities to practise his favourite pastime, torture. This attitude had remained despite the fact that his collection of severed testes had remained at just two pairs because he still fostered hopes of adding to the numbers, not least with those belonging to a certain quartet of boys on nearby Jersey.

Blofeld Junior’s father had even managed to secure his son the initial rank of Rottenfuehrer, or Private 1st Class, instead of the lesser Sturmann, or Private. However, the 17 years old was even prouder of being issued with his first gun, the standard Gestapo issue of a pistol originally created for the Kriminal Polezei, the Walther PPK. The abbreviation stands for ‘Polizei Pistole Kurtz’, ‘kurtz’ meaning ‘shorter’ and indicating that the weapon was the smaller version of the Walther PP.

“Shall I try to round up some potential suspects?” Junior now asked of Senior. The youth appreciated that he had no particular personages in mind, but that would not deter him from seeking out a few innocent but pretty teenagers of both genders to interrogate, in his own special way, in the basement of Gestapo headquarters. The 17 years old smirked in delight when his father answered “If you want!”

Shortly afterwards, in a remote Brittany farmhouse, Felix and Jean celebrated the success of their latest sabotage mission with some precious Champagne, before indulging in even more pleasurable and intimate revelry.

(Near Smolensk, U.S.S.R., same time)

The deeply apprehensive and shamed Yuri found himself suspended naked from a canopy crossbeam, rope biting painfully into his slim tender wrists. The Hauptsturmfuhrer, chosen for his interrogation role because he could speak Russian, now neared the trembling young nude with a number of severe serrated wired clamps in his hands. The S.S. officer had been displeased to discover that the young Russian had been unwilling to answer the German’s initial questions.

“I shall attach these,” the Hauptsturmfuhrer advised, “to your earlobes, tongue, nipples, penis, balls and perineum, whilst another larger device is inserted up your anus. They are all connected to a generator, which will induce electric shocks throughout your body, variable in location, frequency and strength but nevertheless all excruciating. Few grown men last more than a few minutes before confessing all they know after the machinery is activated. I therefore suggest that it would be wise for a boy like you to talk before I push the relevant switch!” However, the petrified Yuri bravely shook his head in negative response.

“Alright, if you insist on enjoying the distressing torment,” the Hauptsturmfuhrer now informed, “I’ll let you experience a sample!” The S.S. officer then attached the agonising and demeaning accoutrements to Yuri’s body, causing the boy to grimace and groan with pain and shame, whilst also beginning to shed some tears. The man subsequently stood back to admire the efficacy of the terrible fixtures before turning the special generator on. The boy’s sublime body immediately convulsed in agony, distorting itself grotesquely as excruciation of an unimaginable kind seared through his completely smooth, very pleasant, 12 years old form.

The Hauptsturmfuhrer smirked when he saw that his young victim, regardless of his tender years, was now following the incongruous pattern of older males when being tortured in this manner by this machine. The boy’s cock became rigid, despite his unparalleled bodily torment.

The smirking Hauptsturmfuhrer let the equipment run for a couple of minutes, whilst watching Yuri’s agonised movements and hearing the boy’s pained screams, before terminating the anguish. “Are you prepared to talk now?” the S.S. officer enquired expectantly of the tortured 12 years old. However, the sneer was removed from the man’s face when the young courageous Russian defiantly croaked “Never!”

“Well,” the Hauptsturmfuhrer retorted, “we’ll soon see about that. I’ll set the generator to a higher output setting and leave it on for much longer. I also have many other implements that I can use on your body during the long night ahead to ensure that you tell all.”

“Never!” Yuri again gamely answered before yet more screams emerged instead from his sweet rosy lips.

“Then your agony will be long and terrible,” the Hauptsturmfuhrer declared.

(Jersey, Channel Islands, same time)

Moneypenny had again assumed the standing position requested by Helmut, hands leaning against the usual tree trunk and back slightly bent with bottom raised. The Jersey High School for Girls’ blazer had been shed and the eager German had already pulled the boy’s white blouse and red pleated skirt up and out of the way, before pulling down the 14 years old’s navy blue knickers.

“Tell me, Marlene,” Helmut now commanded, as he unbuttoned the fly on his trousers to bring his desperate cock finally into moonlight. “I’m a common British slut who wants a good fucking from the superior master race!” Moneypenny soon heard himself saying.

Moneypenny was rewarded by the feel of the man’s substantial damp cockhead being rubbed up and down the boy’s bumcrack before eventually lingering above his young anal aperture. The 14 years old’s body was then consumed by acute pleasure as his young hips were held firmly and another German invasion and occupation began.

Moneypenny’s cock simultaneously exploded as customary, smearing the tree trunk immediately in front of him.

(Near Smolensk, U.S.S.R., same time)

“I don’t think so,” a voice from behind the Hauptsturmfuhrer suggested, as a retort to the S.S. officer’s last menacing comment to Yuri. The man looked behind to see who had made the riposte.

The Hauptsturmfuhrer immediately dropped what he was doing and instead saluted his superior officer with the usual gesture and a “Heil Hitler!” The Obersturmbannfuehrer, recently promoted from Sturmbannfuehrer and remarkably young to be the equivalent of a Lieutenant Colonel, reciprocated the formal greeting before commanding his inferior to “Relax, as I’ve just come to see how this unit is faring.”

“Who’s the boy?” the Obersturmbannfuehrer asked, whilst trying desperately to disguise the admiration in both his voice and groin at the sight of the obviously brave young nude suspended from the canopy crossbeam. The Hauptsturmfuhrer, on his part, admired the array of prestigious medals, including the Iron Cross, displayed on his superior’s chest before answering the question.

Having heard the Hauptsturmfuhrer’s report, the Obersturmbannfuehrer advised “I have a quicker method than physical torture to elicit what you need from the stubborn boy. Release him and bring him outside so that I can show you.” The junior officer complied whilst his superior left the tent.

When the Hauptsturmfuhrer eventually emerged from the canopy, leading the still-naked Yuri, who could hardly stand let alone walk after the electric torture, both the S.S. officer and the tearful boy saw that the Obersturmbannfuehrer was standing in front of a line of local adult peasants, Walther PPK in his hand.

The multi-lingual Obersturmbannfuehrer, who spoke Russian as well as the Hauptsturmfuhrer, immediately ordered the junior officer to bring Yuri to his side. As the nude boy was brought forward, the beautiful 12 years old modestly tried to hide at least some of his shame by concealing, behind his freed shaking hands, his smooth genitalia, still very sore from the recent vicious clamp attachments and subsequent electric shocks.

“Now, boy,” the Obersturmbannfuehrer suggested, ignoring Yuri’s show of modesty whilst pointing the pistol to the boy’s gorgeous head, “you will answer all of my colleague’s questions immediately.” However, once more the intrepid 12 years old instantly responded with a loud determined “Never!”

Yuri then closed his sensuous blue eyes, in expectation of the bullet that would kill him. Meanwhile, the boy’s bladder humiliatingly began to empty.

(Jersey, Channel Islands, same time)

“Thanks, Helmut,” Moneypenny remarked, as he pulled his girl’s knickers back up to cover his cum-stained posterior, “as that was, as usual, rather nice.”

“Now,” the pretty red-haired 14 years old boy continued with an authority that revealed his true standing in the furtive partnership, “tell me about the goings-on in the German military since we last met!”

(Near Smolensk, U.S.S.R., same time)

Yuri heard the gun discharge loudly, before a bullet did indeed penetrate the brain of a victim. However, the boy was amazed to find himself still alive and so opened his lovely eyes. The 12 years old then saw to his intense horror that the peasant nearest to the Obersturmbannfuehrer lay dead on the ground, sanguine wound in the middle of the deceased’s forehead.

“Now, boy,” the Obersturmbannfuehrer advised, “you will answer all of my colleague’s questions or I shall work my way along the whole line of your countrymen. I shall then order others to be gathered for similar treatment, and so on, until you finally agree to tell all!”

The stream of urine was still flowing from the penis of the abashed and appalled Yuri as the Obersturmbannfuehrer raised his pistol towards the head of the next terrified peasant. “I’ll talk!” the naked boy then shouted. “I thought that you would somehow,” the senior S.S. officer commented, before commanding the Hauptsturmfuhrer to bring the 12 years old to him, still alive, once he was content with the information secured.

The Hauptsturmfuhrer was actually unhappy with the data subsequently provided by the tremulous Yuri, back inside the canopy. The boy was now clearly telling the full truth of what he knew but that did not amount to much that was not already known. The 12 years old did not have details of the code in which his message had been written, just information about the size, organisation and recent locations of the partisans of which he was the most junior member. None of these facts were new, or of any real material worth, to the Germans because the resistance groups were forever elusively mobile. The youngster had been prepared to suffer torture and inevitable death for nothing except personal pride in resisting the enemy.

Meanwhile, the Obersturmbannfuehrer waited patiently inside the caravan whilst Yuri’s interrogation was concluded. The man had consumed several glasses of local Vodka before the still-naked and mentally crushed boy, now feeling demeaned because of not only his nudity but also his treachery, was finally brought again before him.

“Did the boy reveal all?” the Obersturmbannfuehrer asked of the Hauptsturmfuhrer in German. “I believe so,” the latter replied, “so shall I have him shot now?”

(Jersey, Channel Islands, same time)

Moneypenny, fully redressed in the girls’ school uniform, was kneeling in front of Helmut, whose flaccid cock, still dribbling extraneous semen, dangled out of his trousers’ fly. The boy took the hairy monster into his mouth and began to suck and lick the penile object back to full throbbing erection.

Moneypenny’s throat was soon swallowing copious Teutonic sperm, as the boy rewarded his informant for the data so recently provided.

(Near Smolensk, U.S.S.R., same time)

“I don’t think that killing the boy is yet necessary,” the Obersturmbannfuehrer answered in Russian so that the fearful nude Yuri could understand what was being discussed, “as I need a servant, preferably one who not only knows the local people and terrain but also is no real threat. The youngster seems ideal for the purpose, especially if he appreciates that I’ll have ten of his countrymen shot for any subsequent incident of disobedience on his part. Therefore, instead of shooting him, have him bathed and dressed in some decent clothing that fits. I’ll take him with me!”

Obersturmbannfuehrer Stromberg, recently transferred to the Russian front from Jersey, ignored the raised eyebrow of the Hauptsturmfuhrer, as the junior officer began to obey this latest instruction.

(Jersey, Channel Islands, August 1941)

For James, John, David and Moneypenny, the summer holidays were passing quickly because, unlike many of their fellow pupils at St. Helier High School for Boys, they had a lot of exciting activities to pursue. However, the quartet’s pastimes included few games. Instead, they contained many far more serious, important and potentially very dangerous activities, basically feeding expertly acquired information to Boothroyd.

Boothroyd was particularly amazed at the regular detailed data about local German military intentions provided by Moneypenny, who politely but firmly declined to name his source. However, Q was reassured about the veracity of the boy’s information because James was party to the origin and confirmed its reliability.

Unknown to Boothroyd, James was also knowledgeable about the circumstances in which the information had been garnered. Originally, the boy had admired Moneypenny’s self-sacrifice until he came to appreciate that his fellow 14 years old was actually enjoying his regular liaisons with Helmut.

Now, as James passed through puberty, the boy was actually secretly a little jealous of Helmut because he too would have liked to share Moneypenny’s charms, as well as those of his other close friend, David. However, the 14 years old had so far been too bashful and afraid to make any advances.

In fact, it was only as the summer holidays, somehow devoid of trouble despite the boys’ perilous activities, approached an end that James came to realise that his furtive lusts were reciprocated and the 14 years old and his two best friends decided to do something about their mutually frustrating situation.

The boys were to embark on this latest delightful and very intimate adventure without knowing the horrors that would afterwards quickly begin to descend on their beautiful island. These very sinister developments would soon have major consequences for their young lives.

(To be continued in chapter 12 – ‘Führerbefehl’)