“Oh and one final thing ….!”
At a nod from the slavemaster the two cronies that had been minding Maciste edged over towards him. Daylight had nearly gone. A few torches set up around illuminated the prisoner surrounded by guards.
“Get it out of those rags. Orders are .. he’s naked. No clothes. Nothing. None of the time.”
Maciste didn’t bother resisting when one of his minders took a knife to the sacking. It barely covered anything anyway. But Maciste smelled that bitch-queen in this. Coming up with ways to humiliate him and grind Maciste’s will down into the grit.
Worryingly, though, he felt dozens of eyes on himself fully exposed. Eyes like hands all over his royal crown jewels. No different from any of them. But when had they ever had a prince like this? Seeing him .. bound to give them ideas. A loud appreciative whistle from behind, a slight shiver went down his back. Without turning he sensed a guard eyeing his arse. A place like this ….. it had to be expected. But just let them fucking try!
“Get the arsehole outta here. Got better things to do ….. Wasted enough time on the prick.”
The guards retreated back to their huts. For more booze to wash down the day’s grit in their gullets. Maciste’s minders gave him a shove. Moving him towards the stockade. But they couldn’t arsed to open it up. Didn’t want to miss out on drinking time.
“No point in stirring the animals,” one of them said as an excuse.
He planted his torch by the stake where they’d kept Maciste waiting earlier. The pair of them set about tying Maciste’s bound wrists to the ring on the post again. One of them keeping an eye on the slave .. tapping his favourite club into his palm as a warning, the other fastening Maciste to the post.
Where the hell did this moron think Maciste would go running off to in the dark? The cart had traversed that wilderness for hours. Escape and wander off through the darkness? Meet up with some wild big-cat? No hiding place out there. He’d not seen a horse anywhere here, no escaping on foot. Not till Maciste worked out a plan.
“Ya know …?”
The palm-slapping cretin looked thoughtful .. his eyes traversing down Maciste’s front.
“Has it ever occurred to ya …?”
He was addressing his mate still checking the ropes had Maciste secured to the stake.
“What it might look like? A kingly cock?”
He snorted. Laughing.
“That it? That what a royal cock looks like? Nothing but that? Ain’t even decorated .. what no jewels?”
He lifted his kilt. Held his own out, waggled it around for comparison. He walked up to the stake showing his friend.
“No different from mine. Is it?”
He waggled his limp cock up and down. Grabbed Maciste by the root of his shaft and did the same.
“Fucking the same. No bigger. No better. Ya sure this fucker’s got royal blood?”
Maciste was irritated. But he had taken notice of the orders. No glares. No bad looks. Otherwise they’d stick it to him. And for now his plan had to be to toe the line. Head-down, take what came, no trouble-maker. For now. Fool these suckers. Let them get the idea he was not going to be any trouble. It’d hurt, it’d grate like hell. He’d get frustrated. But looking like he was no problem .. that was going to give him chance to observe .. see how things played out here. And come up with a plan. No point in having the shit beaten out of him so he couldn’t think straight.
The other one tugging tight on Maciste’s ropes grinned back.
“Difference is, thickhead …”
The other one was smirking at his mate horsing around.
“ .. his ‘n can make royal babies. Yarsen can’t.”
His mate looked back at him. He frowned.
“Ya mean .. with these fuckers ….? Not any more they won’t …..”
His hand-grip switched. His grip shot forward. He was holding Maciste’s balls tight in his hand.
“These worthless beauties …?”
He was squeezing hard. Maciste had to wince. The moron kept on squeezing .. looking into Maciste’s face .. demanding the slave show his pain. Kept on squeezing until he got himself a sustained grunt.
“I don’t think so ….”
He gave another sudden sharp squeeze.
“Not anymore. .. Arsehole-here .. he’s got no use for these fuckers .. not anymore ….”
Maciste couldn’t hold in the gasp when the crushing grip let him be.
“Ya never know … “
It was the other cretin sniggering,
“ … princey-here might find himself some arse to plough in the stockade. Ya know what those animals are like …. Can’t stop themsens. ”
He nudged the other’s arm.
“Speaking of which … they kept a couple of newbie’s back. In the huts. C’mon. The others are getting theirs in first.”
His hand dismissively slapped at Maciste’s hard-muscled belly.
“We’re wasting our time with this fuck-ass. Got better furrows to plough …..”
He ground the end of his club into Maciste’s belly. Not hurting. Just showing he could .. if the mood took him.
“On the other hand ….”
His mate stood alongside Maciste, looking pensive. His thumb indicated their princely slave stuck naked against the post .. hands vulnerably pinned above his head.
“ …. we have this fucker to oursens.”
“What ya reckon?”
His hand stroked suggestively at the solid muscle of Maciste’s lower belly.
“No standin’ in line here.”
He cocked his head to his mate, enquiring.
“Ya up for it?”
The other looked Maciste over. Naked as the day he was born, tied and helpless with his back up against the post. Easy pickings.
“Ya dim or what?” he spluttered. “Ya not listenin’ to the boss. This fucker’s got ‘owned by the king” all over its arse. And ya wanna fuck it?”
The other started to protest. He was stopped.
“Go on. Untie it. Bend the fucker over a barrel and fuck it up the arse.”
“Ya such a fuckwit? Gonna take that risk? Look at the fucker. Seen the strength on it? Reckon ya can hold that down? Reckon he’s going to lie there quietly while ya stick yasen up his kingly arse?”
He shook his head.
“Ya THAT stupid?”
The other laughed it off.
“Only joking ….”
Though his final gaze over a manly torso so up-for-grabs betrayed a frustrated disappointment.
“Let’s go get us a beer …” he laughed. “Get us some arse. Before the others have scraped those newbies red-raw ….”
Grinning into Maciste’s stern look, stood in the near-dark, he taunted.
His club tapped lightly against Maciste’s bare backside. Suggestively.
“ … no rush .. plenty of time for that .. ain’t there?” Mocking Maciste’s warning scowl.
He gave a final check on the thick rope binding Maciste to the post. And cheerily the pair of them buggered off. For more drink and a messy fuck. Taking their torch with them. Safe in the knowledge that their precious charge was securely stuck there at the post for the night.