The Hammer of Zion

He was dressed in a school uniform. He did not know where it had come from and the fit was a bit tight but he had inspected himself in the mirror and was convinced that he looked exactly as he was supposed to look; like an Israeli schoolboy. Omar was young looking, and more likely to pass for eleven than thirteen which is why he'd been chosen for this mission.

The mission? Oh, yes, the mission. Resting on his slight back was a bomb.

Omar did not know how big the bomb was. All he knew was that it was packed with explosives, nails and metal shards. When it went off, the flying shrapnel would injure and kill anyone close to him. Of course, it would also kill him, which was the primary reason that he was sweating so much.

The others had told him not to worry. Because the bomb would go off against him, he would feel no pain. One push of a button and he would enter the next world, where he had been promised a paradise. His mind had been filled with the rewards he would get in the next world. He would become a martyr, one who's name would be talked about for ages and he would be doing his part to drive the Zionists into the Mediterranean Sea, back to wherever they came from and the purity of Islam would reign unbroken over the area as Allah had intended.

Omar walked past the walls of the Old City, glaring at the Israeli flag that was flying over the Lion's Gate. How he wanted to climb the walls and rip it down! Looking beyond, he saw the Al Aqua Mosque and the glowing Dome of the Rock. Most of the time, the Zionists would not even let good Moslems up there to pray on their sacred ground. All because they claimed that there had been a temple there 2,000 years ago! Even to Omar, that was clearly a lie! How could they know what was there that long ago? That bunch of stones they called the Western Wall was nothing. Anyone could tell that it was just a retaining wall for the majestic Dome of the Rock! When he thought about how the infidel Sharon had defiled the sacred ground with his filthy Jewish feet, he felt his anger rise and was reminded why he had volunteered for this mission.

And he did need to remind himself, because as he got closer to his destination, his doubts grew. It was all right for Marwan and the others to say that it would not hurt, but how would they know? It's not like any of them had ever blown themselves up before. When it had come time for him to have the bomb attached to his body, they had sensed his reluctance. They had threatened him, they had cajoled him and they had insulted his masculinity. Finally, he had agreed to go and was able to hold the doubts at bay. Unfortunately, it had not lasted and he was more reluctant than before.

He turned the corner and saw his target. Gathered at a bus stop were a group of Israeli schoolboys. The oldest looked to be twelve and there were some as young as eight. Enough of them were Sephardim that Omar knew he would fit right in. As he walked toward the crowd of boys, his steps slowed. The boys were laughing and talking with each other. Had he been approaching the murderer Sharon, this would not have bothered him. This was another story; could he really kill a bunch of boys in cold blood? Could this really be the will of Allah? Omar's doubts redoubled and he paused. Too long, as it turned out.

A hand grabbed his right arm and held it away from his body. He turned to look at his sudden abductor when another hand grabbed his left arm and held it in a similar fashion. The first man said something, but he spoke in Hebrew and Omar only had a rough idea of what he'd said. It sounded like he wanted his identity papers. The other man patted his backpack and the grip on his left arm increased painfully.

"You are coming with us," the first man said in Arabic. "Do not resist."

Omar could not have resisted even if he had tried. His arms were held tightly and the men lifted him up so that his legs did not touch the ground. Being held like this cause him great pain in his shoulders, but the men showed him no mercy. He was taken into a nearby building and a third man approached him. As he was held fast, the new man opened his backpack. Long minutes passed as the man worked to defuse the bomb while the other two held Omar in place. The detonation device was in his pocket, but there was no way to reach it even it he had wanted to and right now Omar had decided that he was not ready to die.

At last the man was done and his backpack was taken off him. He was herded into a windowless room where another man awaited.

"I will get right to the point," the new man said in Arabic. "You were not working alone. You will tell us who else was involved and where we can find them. Right now you may think that you will be able to hold out against us, but you are wrong. The only question is how much pain you will suffer before you talk. Do you understand?"

Omar looked at the man, trying for defiance but not managing it.

"Will you tell us who else was involved?"

"No one," Omar whispered.

"Okay," the man sighed. "We'll do it the other way."

The other men picked Omar up and bent him over a table. His wrists were latched into twin restraints. Weather by design or because the table was meant for bigger bodies, Omar found his feet dangling in the air.

"Please feel free to scream," the man said as he opened a cabinet and brought out a thick cane. He moved behind Omar and the boy gritted his teeth. He would not scream, he told himself. He would not scream. He would not...

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" As the cane cut across his clothed bottom, his resolved dropped in an instant. A horizontal line of fire ripped across his cheeks. There was another blow and he screamed again.

"That's just a little taste, boy," the man said. "I am the Mossad's best caner. We can stop anytime you provide us with the information we need, or we can continue. Your choice."

Omar said nothing and was rewarded with four more strokes of the cane. His eyes filled with tears and his breath was coming in hitches, but he dared not speak.

"I did not think that would do it," the Mossad agent said. "Anyone who was prepared to kill a bunch of helpless boys would be able to take six strokes of the cane. However, that was just the warm-up. The games are about to begin. I will not ask you again to speak. When you are ready, just say so and we will stop."

One of the other men approached Omar and undid his pants. They fell in a heap on the floor, leaving him bent over in his underwear. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the third man approach him with a thick, wooden paddle. Without preamble, the man started beating his caned bottom. The overall sting was incredible, but where the cane had left its red lines, it was indescribable. He did not count, but it seemed like he endured fifty blows with the paddle before the man stopped.

"You didn't think that would do it, did you?" the caner said to the paddler.

"No, of course not, David. Still, there is a routine to follow."

"Yes, there is. Time for the next step."

The paddler grabbed Omar's underpants and yanked them off. As the elastic waistband scraped over his raw skin, he screamed in pain again. The air in the room actually felt good on his naked bottom, but it was a relief he'd have been quite prepared to do without. The other man was approaching him with a thick belt.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! he went. The skin on his bottom was already blistered and now it was starting to bleed. His world was a red haze and he felt like he was ready to pass out from the pain. In vain he tried to embrace the darkness, but he was yanked away when cold water was splashed on his head. For the first time, Omar thought about telling the men what they wanted to know. A brief flash of pain from a bomb was one thing. This endless beating was quite another. Still, the men had stopped. Perhaps he could hold out yet.

The man who had caned him, who the other man had called David, moved in front of him.

"Know what I'm going to do next?" he asked. Despite his instinct to say nothing, Omar shook his head. David unzipped his pants and pulled out a cock that shocked Omar with its size. He'd been told that Jews had small dicks, but that was not the case with this man. Even limp, it was a big around as an ear of corn.

"I am going to shove my cock up your little ass," the man said as he started to stroke his flaccid tool. "I know you Arab boys like that, but I don't think you'll like mine so much."

Omar had only ever had one cock up his ass; that of a cousin who was two years older than him. His cousin had not been very big and he had cum quickly. There had been a bit of discomfort, but Omar hadn't been given any choice in the matter. Nor was he being given one now. He watched in morbid fascination as the Mossad agents cock grew longer and, incredibly, wider. There was no way that thing could fit! The man took his pants all the way off and moved behind Omar.

"I am going to grease my cock up," he said to the helpless boy. "This is not for your benefit. I am only doing it because that's the only way I can get inside your tight little ass. Believe me, this will hurt you a great deal, but I will get much pleasure from it."

Omar tried to kick back with his legs when the man got near, but was caught by his ankles. Getting some rope, the other men lashed his legs to the table legs, leaving him spread and helpless. The man called David put his rough hands on Omar's bleeding cheeks and painfully spread them wide. The boy tried to clench his asshole tight as he felt the massive prick press against his back door, still convincing himself that there was no way such a big thing could fit there. The pressure increased and still he held fast against the invader. For a moment he felt triumph, but then a tearing, ripping feeling in his bottom shattered it as the head of the man's cock plunged through his asshole. He screamed again and his body tried to thrash around, but he was locked in place. The callused hands were still on his ass, but now he hardly felt the pain from his blistered cheeks as the huge club of a cock was shoved deeper and deeper in his torn anus. The man started to pull back and Omar thought that he'd somehow taken all of his cock, but when he plunged forward again, it went even deeper. Back and forth the man went in his ass, and each time it seemed like another inch sunk into him. Omar felt like he was being ripped in half. The man started to spank his ass with his open hand as he fucked him, but this sting was dwarfed by the deep pain inside him. The thrusts started coming quicker and Omar felt the man's heavy balls slap up against him. It seemed that he was all inside, but as the Mossad agent approached his orgasm, the cock swelled even more inside. Omar thought that he was going to explode after all. The man gave him two extra hard spanks; even with the overwhelming pain of the rape he felt them and then shoved his tool in as hard and deep as he could.

"Take my cum, you little pig!" the man said. Omar knew the man was cumming up his ass, but he could not feel it over the ripping pain. A few moments later, he pulled out, making a loud sucking sound. The boy felt something dribble out of his ass. He didn't know if it was cum, blood or both, but he felt totally humiliated.

"Still nothing?" the man called David asked. "Well, you guys may as well have a go with him."

One of the other men came up behind Omar and dropped his pants. Soon another huge cock was shoved inside him. While it was not quite as big as David's, it was still bigger than any Omar had ever seen and the pain as it plunged in and out of his ravaged, deflowered asshole was tremendous. That man came and the third took his place. A third huge cock invaded his little body. Clearly, whoever told Omar that all Jews had little dicks had been lying. As he lay there helpless, getting ass raped by the third Mossad agent, Omar wondered what other lies he had been told.

This one pulled out before he came and moved in front of Omar, stroking his cock and pointing it towards his face. Omar could not help but stare, noticing the traces off blood and cum that coated the man's giant erection. The agent grunted and his cock spewed out sperm onto Omar's face. The first shot hit him square on the nose and he bend down, trying to avoid it and took then next on in his hair, but then the man grabbed him and pulled him back up to face it and he got five more shots in the face. Cum was dripping down his forehead, nose and cheeks. It even ran over his lips and, try as he might to avoid it, he could taste the Jew's salty jizz.

"I didn't think that would work either, Moshe," David said. "Arab boys like taking it up the ass too much."

"Yea, but it was fun, wasn't it?" Moshe said as he wiped his sticky cock on the side of Omar's face.

"Let's move on," David said, untieing Omar's legs while the unnamed man unlocked his arms. They hooked something up to the roof and Omar was made to stand while they shackled his arms to two dangling chains. His ass had been so badly beaten and raped that for a moment Omar was glad when the weight was taken off his feet and he was pulled upward by his arms. This relief did not last long as the ache in his shoulders started to grow. Meanwhile, the men shackled his feet and soon his body was stretched tight. He whimpered as David approached him, but that was all he would do. Unexpectedly, the man took hold of his limp penis.

"Small dick you've got there, boy," he said, "but you've got a bit of hair and your balls have dropped some. My son is only nine and his cock is bigger than yours."

A thin line was tied around the head of Omar's cock and then it was pulled upward as if he had an erection. The boy had no idea what this was about, but a sick feeling of dread was growing in his stomach. Moshe went to the desk and pulled out a very small whip. They were going to whip him again? What was the point, especially with such a small thing? It was only when David took the whip and stood in front of him that he realized where they intended to whip him.

"Oh, no, no, no," he groaned, but it was no use. David swung his arms and hit him right across his balls.

He screamed so loud he thought his lungs would collapse, but it did him no good. They whipped his balls for several minutes, and then started on his cock. This time he did pass out.

Once again, a bucket of ice water revived him. He looked down and saw his dick and balls were bleeding from a series of red lines. David was getting something out of a brown paper bag and walking toward him. He held it in front of the boy's nose and even blocked from crying, the smell penetrated his nostrils.

"Hot pepper," the man said, "peeled."

Without warning, the man was rubbing it over his bleeding cock and balls. It was like being set on fire! His body jerked and cramped as the chains held him fast. Then the man went behind him, pried apart his ass cheeks and crammed it up his dilated asshole. Four seconds after the pepper was pushed past his torn sphincter, Omar broke. He tried to say, scream that he would tell the men anything they wanted to hear if they would just take that burning thing away from him, but he was almost beyond coherence. All that came out was something like "talkpleasetalkpleasepleasetalktalkI'lltalkI'lltellpleaseno!"

In any case, the man got the idea and the pepper was yanked back out of him. That did not end the burning; Moshe produced a hose and turned it on, shooting water up his ass and then over his cock and balls. Having jets of water shooting up his ass was also painful, but it slowly washed out the burning juice and nothing was more important to Omar than that.

"All right, boy," David said, "You can talk now. I should warn you not to lie. You would not like to know what we would do to you if you did."

Omar could not imagine anything worse than he'd just gone through, but didn't want to. He spilled his guts, telling them everything he knew about the terror cell he'd been recruited into to.

"How long has it been?" David asked the third man.

"Since we grabbed the boy? About an hour and a half."

"Think we'll still catch them there?"

"I don't know. Probably not, but it's worth a try."

"Bring the boy, then, and let's go."

Omar still had his shirt on, but it was too short to cover his ass or cock and balls. Bottomless, he was led into an unmarked van. They pulled off, followed by another van and headed towards the headquarters of the group. Now that he was not actively being hurt, Omar had time to consider the consequences of his actions. When Marwan found out he had betrayed them, his fury would be terrible. Then he looked over at David, who had drawn a gun and had a grim expression on his face and decided that the Mossad agent was much scarier than Marwan would ever be.

They drove casually up the twisting street that Omar had directed them to. Abdullah was standing watch outside the front door of the crumbling apartment and Omar pointed towards him.

"That's one," he said before he realized that he should have kept his mouth shut. The first van drove past, but the second one stopped and men with guns jumped out. Abdullah tried to run, but they overcame him in seconds while a team rushed inside of the building. Shortly afterwards and dazed and angry Marwan and Rashad were lead out with their hands behind their backs. Now there was commotion everywhere as police showed up and were securing the building. The three junior terrorists were loaded into the second van and driven back to the Mossad's headquarters.

By the time the van with Omar returned, the second van had been unloaded. He'd expected to be thrown in a cell with the other, but that's not what happened. Instead, David took him to another room with chairs and a large window to another room. The man yanked the schoolboys' shirt off of him, making him completely naked, and then sat him in one of the chairs. Four sets of handcuffs later he was locked in place.

"This is one-way glass," David explained. "You can see through, but no one on the other side can see you. Also, you can hear, but no one can hear you. I'm going to put on a little show for you, so just sit there and watch."

The man left and Omar sat there, breathing heavily. At least Marwan would not be confronting him right away. Five minutes later, he heard something and saw the door to the room behind the window open. Marwan, Rashad and Abdullah were lead in, still handcuffed. David, Moshe and the third man were behind them, holding pistols. They made the three teenagers sit in chairs while David addressed them.

"So, you're the one they call the boy genius," he said to Marwan. "The youngest bomb-maker in Hamas. They must be getting desperate, but I guess they have to be. Those who we haven't gotten have blown themselves up through incompetence."

"That's a lie!" Marwan shouted. "No bomb has ever gone off by accident!"

"Shut up, punk," David said as he leaned forward and slapped Marwan across the face. "That was not a question and I did not require an answer. You and I both know that it is not a lie, anyway, so who are you trying to fool? These dumb boys who you convinced to follow you?"

Abdullah and Rashad looked angry at this, but David wasn't even looking at them.

"We've been through your papers. You're just seventeen and these two are fifteen. That poor kid you wanted to blow up was only thirteen. Do the men in Hamas have no balls? Is that why they have to send boys now?"

Marwan didn't say anything this time, just gave David a look of hate. Suddenly he spit, catching the man right in the face.

"Jew!" he screamed. "Dirty Jew!"

"I defused your bomb," David said as he casually wiped the spit from his face. "It was quite well put together. I don't suppose you or the people who trained you thought about the good you could have done trying to build things for your people. You're too obsessed with trying to kill us. Such a waste."

Omar picked up a note of genuine regret in the man's voice. For the first time, he wondered if this was all worth it.

"Still, you did what you did and now you will all pay," David said. "Unlike you're bumbling leader, Arafat, we have a strong and decisive Prime Minister. Ariel Sharon sent up new orders on how to deal with terrorists and you three are going to be the first examples. No nice jail cell or lengthy trial for you!"

Omar watched as the three boys were yanked from the chairs and suspended from the ceiling much the way he had been earlier. The men took out knives and started to cut the clothes from the boys' bodies until they only had their underwear on. Then David came out with a long, black whip and started to lash them on their backs and legs. Omar could hear the screaming, but felt strangely unaffected by it. They had been willing for Omar to die; so let them experience some of what he'd felt.

About fifteen minutes later, the three were covered with criss-crossed bleeding welts. Their heads were hanging and they had screamed themselves hoarse.

"Did you think we'd neglected your tender little bottoms?" Moshe said as he rubbed Abdullah's round rump. "Don't worry, we'll get to them next."

First they were paddled, then their underwear was cut away and they were caned. Even Omar knew that they were caned much harder than he'd been. Marwan even passed out and had to be revived.

"Please," Marwan blubbered, as he came to, "no more. We'll tell you what you want."

Omar felt disgusted. He'd been able to hold out for much longer than this! Marwan was supposed to be the brave one, but he'd been reduced to a wreck. Why had he listened to such a coward?

"My boy, we don't want you to talk," David said. "We found what we needed back in your little headquarters. We have learned the names of several of your contacts and they will shortly be dealt with."

"Then what do you want?" Rashad pleaded.

"You'll find out," Moshe said in a grim voice.

"Right now, I want this punk's ass," the third man said, moving towards Marwan.

"Okay, Chaim, you take him," David said, "I'll get the middle one and Moshe'll take the end one."

The chains were loosened from the ceiling and tables were put in place to bend the boys over. One by one they screamed as huge Jewish cocks penetrated them roughly. Omar no longer felt any sympathy for them and clenched his fists in satisfaction as the Mossad agents pounded their asses with their massive slabs of meat. He could see Marwan crying as Chaim fucked him. He hoped that his former leader would have to experience David's king-sized cock as well. As the men came, they pulled out. Moshe shot his load in Rashad's face, while the other two had shot inside their fucked boys. Omar could see the cum leaking out of the boys' assholes and onto the floor. He was not at all sorry to see the men stroke their pricks back into erections and re-insert them into different boys. David had indeed chosen to rape Marwan and the teenager screamed as he was torn wide by this huge Sabra cock. It took a long time, but Marwan never stopped blubbering all the time David was pounding his asshole. When he came, Marwan was crying like a baby. Moshe had fucked Abdullah this time, but he moved in front of Marwan and gave him the pleasure of getting cum in the face.

Omar hoped to see the boys (or at least Marwan) getting their cocks and balls whipped next, but instead he saw the men bring in a chair. The seat was a peculiar shape. Instead of being flat, it was lower with the buttocks would go and then it rose in the front where there was a hole. Rashad was unchained and made to sit in it.

"Now that you've been warmed up by having your assholes well fucked," David said, "you should be ready to put on a show for us."

Rashad's legs were shackled to the legs of his chair and a belt went around his chest, but his arms were left free. His balls were lifted and placed in the hole and then David turned a knob and the hole shrank until his nuts were held fast.

"We know being ass-fucked will have made you horny," Moshe said, "so we'll be giving you an opportunity to relieve yourselves. I'm sure you must be ready to cum, so we've left your hands free so you can jerk off."

Rashad looked at him as if he were crazy. He made no move to touch his limp penis.

"Just to spice things up a bit," Moshe said, "there is a timer in this chair. It's set for five minutes. When that time is passed, a very sharp blade will be spring releases and it will swing out right about here."

He ran his fingers on the underside of the hole and over Rashad's balls.

"It will cut them off, of course. The only way you can save them is if you cum first. You shoot a load of cum for us and we'll stop the timer. Clear? Let's start, then."

He touched a button on the side of the chair and a faint clicking sound started.

"No! No!" Rashad said.

"Time's wasting boy," Chaim said. "Better start playing with your little prick."

Rashad looked around for help, but saw none. He started to massage his limp member, but he could not even seem to get it hard. He shut his eyes and it slowly started to grow, but precious seconds had passed. The Mossad agents were making comments, telling him that it might help to remember the feel of their big cocks up his ass, but obviously this did not aid him. Omar was at the edge of his seat. He had no idea what he wanted to have happen. Rashad was sweating and he yanked desperately on his hard-on. It seemed to Omar like he was getting close when there was a soft ring from the chair. Rashad screamed in mortal agony and Omar saw something small and red drop to the floor. The men got the screaming boy out of the chair and Omar saw that Rashad no longer possessed his testicles. His rapidly softening dick now hung over empty space. Chaim did something to stop the bleeding and the castrated Rashad was tied to an ordinary chair and left in his own miserly.

Abdullah fought as they put him in the chair but he had no chance against he three strong men.

"You know the rules," Chaim said as he locked the boy's balls in place.

Abdullah didn't waste any time. Even before they started the timer, he was yanking on himself. His cock grew hard, but even erect it was only a few inches long.

"That little boy we fucked earlier had a bigger dick than this one," David observed.

"Yea, not much there," Moshe agreed. "I doubt he'd even miss his balls."

Abdullah plainly did not agree and he scrunched up his face as he tried to coax an orgasm out of his endangered nut sac. Omar felt a rush of pleasure at being compared favorably. Watching this was starting to make his own cock hard and he saw that it was indeed bigger than Abdullah's. He started counting the seconds, trying to guess when time would be up.

He felt the deadline must be near when Abdullah cried out in triumph. A shot of sperm came out of his small cock and flew into the air. Two more shots followed when there was a soft ring. Abdullah only had time to scream 'NO!' before his balls were severed in a swift slash.

"Well, you almost made it," David consoled him as he removed the nutless boy from the chair. "At least you got to cum one last time. That's more than your friend got."

Marwan had been keeping his eyes shut and when they went to get him, Omar noticed that he was already hard. Clearly, he'd been thinking of things that turned him on so that he'd have a jump on things. As soon as his hands were free, he started pumping his cock. Omar could see that it was no more than six inches. The Jews put him to shame. Despite the Mossad agents' taunts and comments, Marwan seemed to be in control of things. Omar had estimated it was just a bit more than four minutes before Marwan shot.

Marwan looked at the Mossad men in triumph as the last of his cum splattered on the floor. That triumph turned to puzzlement, then worry and then fear as they stood there without moving.

"Turn it off!" he finally said.

"Guess what?" David said, "We lied. Just like all those times you promised us a cease-fire. You all have lied to us so many times we thought we'd turn the tables on you. Say good-bye to your balls, little bomb-maker!"

Screaming, Marwan struggled desperately to pull his balls from the hole, but the constriction was too tight. Omar could not hear the chair ring over Marwan's screams, but he was when he came loose as his balls were cut off. Instead of tying him to a chair the men hung Marwan back from the ceiling and made little effort to stop the flow of blood from the place where his nuts had been sliced away.

"For you two," David said to Abdullah and Rashad, "that is enough. You will not become martyrs. You will be ball-less boys, sent back as an example. You will be sent naked towards a crowded village and will be shot unless you run there, so you will be seen. Ariel Sharon feels that if word gets around that we are cutting off the nuts of you terrorists, that might cool you down a bit. And you won't go complaining to the foreign press because you will be too ashamed that you no longer have balls."

"For him, on the other hand," he said, indicating Marwan, "we have other plans. You get to watch and be sure and tell your friends in Hamas everything."

David went over to the desk and pulled something out. Omar could tell it was a tool of some kind, but wasn't sure what it is.

"See this, you coward?" he said, holding it up to Marwan's face. "This is a nail gun. You like to put nails in bombs, so we decided you should know what it feels like. How does that sound?"

Marwan screamed in terror, but he was ignored. David went behind him and pressed against his left buttock. A few seconds later he pulled the trigger and Marwan's scream reached new decibels. Omar could see the head of the nail protruding from his fleshy ass and David went and shot another one into the right cheek.

Making sure that the boy didn't pass out, over the next several minutes David shot several more into his ass, a few into his thighs, his biceps and even his feet and hands. Marwan looked like a gruesome pincushion, but still he was shown no mercy. Moshe placed a piece of wood underneath his ballsless cock and held it in place as David put the nail gun to the head. One squeeze of the trigger later, his cock was nailed to the board. David added three more nails to his cock before he said that he was out of room. Marwan was glibbering and drooling. Omar wondered if he'd been driven mad with pain.

"How am I going to get my piece of wood back?" Chaim complained.

"Oh, sorry, I'll see what I can do," David said. He got a hammer and used the claw to try and pry one of the nails out. Of course, that involved crushing down on the head of Marwan's nailed cock, but he was unable to dislodge the nail.

"Fuck this thing!" David said, reversing the hammer and hitting Marwan's cock with it. At this point, it barely resembled the organ that it had been. It just looked like a raw piece of meat.

"Let's try something else," Moshe said, getting out another tool. This one Omar recognized right away. It was a jigsaw. While Chaim held the block of wood, Moshe severed Marwan's penis with the rough blade. When it came off, David turned a blowtorch on the boy's vacant crotch to cauterize the wound.

"Time for the last act," David said after Marwan was made coherent. "But first, this is for the boy you sent out to die!"

Omar watched as a huge hot pepper was shoved up Marwan's bleeding anus. He didn't feel a bit of sympathy as he twitched and screamed. The other men brought in a five-foot wooden stake on a base. David took out a can of black tar and painted it on Marwan's face. Then he put a Yarmulke on his head and held up a mirror so he could look at himself.

"You like the way you look?" David asked him. "Just in case you've lost your sense of direction along with your cock and balls, let me point out that you are facing away from Mecca right now."

Moshe cranked the chain and Marwan was lifted even higher off the ground. The stake was place directly underneath his raped and peppered asshole.

"I had one of my non-observant agents coat this stake with grade-A pig fat," David said. "And here's a little treat for you!"

David got something from the desk and Omar could see a pork chop wrapped in bacon. It was shoved into Marwan's mouth and then he was gagged, preventing him from spitting it out.

"We're going to bury you with that still in your mouth," David said, "Face down."

They started to lower him and his ass came to rest on the stake. At first it seemed to Omar that he would only balance on the sharp wood, but then he saw them start to crank on the leg chains. Marwan could not scream, but he thrashed his head about as his anus was raped one final time by the stake. Blood started to run down his legs and eventually his head fell forward in a slump. Omar did not know if he was dead or not, but David held the nail gun to his temple and put a nail in his brain. They took him down and carried him out. Then they came back and took the other two, telling them to enjoy their live as eunuchs and took them off to be released somewhere on the West Bank. Ten minutes later, David came into the room where Omar was.

"Please don't cut my balls off!" he begged. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"I'm not going to cut your balls off, boy," David said as he reached in between the naked boy's legs and squeezed his nuts. "But I can't just let you go, either."

Omar was freed and led back into the first room where he'd been raped. Moshe and Chaim were waiting there.

"If we turned you loose, you'd be killed as a collaborator," David said. "That wouldn't do any good and you helped us quite a bit by leading us to that murdering teenager we just disposed of. Still, you were planning to kill a bunch of or children, even if you got cold feet. I don't want you to ever forget that. Moshe and Chaim held him tight and one of them grabbed his balls, yanking them up. Fearing that he was going to loose his balls after all, Omar started to cry, but instead of a knife, David was approaching him with something that was glowing red hot. His eyes full of tears, he couldn't watch as he felt a burning, searing pain on the underside of his scrotum. He screamed and smelled burning flesh.

"That brand is for you coming into Jerusalem with a bomb," David said. He held the brand to Omar's face and the boy could make out a Star of David, glowing red-hot. "If we ever catch you doing anything again, that brand will let us know that your balls are to be cut off. Now, bend him over men."

Moshe and Chaim pushed him face down over the edge of the table and one of them parted his ass cheeks. He felt the heat of the approaching brand and then the unimaginable pain as it pressed up against his asshole. Water was thrown over his ass as the brand was pulled away, but it did little to dull the agony he felt.

"That's to remind you that big, Israeli cocks have been up your asshole. Every time you wipe your ass, you'll remember."

They led him from the room, naked, crying and unable to walk from the branding and raping he'd endured and placed him in a cell. After an hour of crying and fingering his branded asshole and balls, he noticed that there was a set of clothes for him. He got dressed and drank some water. Night came and he fell asleep.

David woke him up the next day and sat next to him on the bed.

"As I said, if we released you, you'd be killed. We have a secret treaty with Jordan. We pay them a fee and they accept people who would otherwise be murdered by Arafat and his crew for being collaborates. Today, you will be taken to the border and turned over to the Jordanian officials. If you are mistreated, you can go to the Israel consulate in Amman and your concern will be addressed, but the Jordanians have been very helpful with this sort of thing, so I think you'll be fine."

"Why are you doing this?" Omar asked, when he had a chance to digest it all.

"Because, boy," David said with a weary sigh, "at some point we would like to have peace. If we are hard and cruel, it is only because we have been forced to be that way. In the end, you may find your life in Jordan will be much better than the one you were living under Arafat and his goons. I hope one day we can live side by side. Perhaps you will understand and we can forgive each other. Until that day, keep out of Israel and may Allah watch over you."

After this strange speech, David left the room. Omar was taken to a van and driven to the Jordanian border. As he entered another country to start a new life, he came to the conclusion that the cost of war was too high. From now on, he'd try living his life a different way.

Author’s Note: This story is probably not that far removed from reality. Israel has used torture in the past, and I suspect still does at times. I don’t blame them for this; they are a country at war against an enemy whose goal is to deliberate kill women and children. Fuck Amnesty International! Even more realistic is the age of the terrorists. While I was writing this story, the Jerusalem Post put out a story about how a terror cell comprised of two 16 year olds and an 18 year old had been caught and they were involved in several bombings in the north of Israel. Also, the Palestinian Authority aims all sort of propaganda at the young boys telling them the joys of being a martyr. Personally, sending boys off to get killed in the hopes of scoring a few propaganda points makes me sick, but most of what Arafat and Co. do makes me sick.