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Maciste was surrounded by drunken cheers.
“You damn-well dare,” he snarled
The sight of Maciste naked in the square had put ideas in the sergeant’s head. In the mood for it. And they’d all had more than a bit to drink.. Earlier he had fought them back .. to make his point that he wasn’t to be taken lightly. But they’d taken it as some feeble gesture. Still they had got his arms tied to an iron pole above his head. He’d not been able to stop them then either.
“I’ll have your guts.” Maciste’s glare warned he was not joking. And neither were they …
The sergeant feigned surprise. Then he slammed an iron bar across Maciste’s midriff. Wind shot noisily out of his chest.
“And you’re gonna do fucking-what about it ….?”
The sergeant had Maciste grabbed by the jawbone. Squeezing hard.
“Have my guts? You and whose fucking army? Dickhead?”
“What you say, boys? We get a handful of royal cock?”
The suggestion went down with raucous cheers.
“How big you reckon, lads? Monstrous? Or teeny-weeny?”
Whooping into the chill air, a couple of troopers rushed forward, grabbing at the homespun breeches .. ripping them off, throwing the rags to the ground. Cheers rang out. Their royal captive again stood naked before them. They’d thrashed his royal bare arse. Now they were after his royal limp cock.
Naked and helpless. Helpless, vulnerable. And a hopeless case.