The slavemaster had a bucket of water thrown over the stubborn slave. To revive him. His head hung down, audibly groaning out his burning pains. But the animals had to see the suffering on his face. Otherwise what was the point?
The shock of water brought him it out his half-conscious state. Brought back with a jolt and a shocked cry. Crying out as the hurt gripped his princely torso again.
The guard knew better than to waste the moment. The water caught him full on the upper chest. Water splashed up into the slave’s face. Reviving him .. but doing nothing for the dog’s raging thirst.
“Start turnin’ the prick.”
The guard moved to Maciste’s right foot and gave the lower bar a shove. Maciste’s body still splayed out on his punishment frame started to revolve. The burning strokes pockmarking his midriff began to turn away. Evil looking stripes coloured the soft skin of his side. Into sight came the muscular stretched back. A mass of burning flesh. Blotches of fiery crimson glistening in runs of agonised sweat.
Still the dog’s body turned. The lead slavemaster’s glance turned to the face. Twisted with pain .. contorted with anger. Fighting to hold it in still .. but failing. Streaks of watery pain running from his eyes. His features a display of agony .. but seemingly still refusing to surrender fully to the pains that were almost overwhelming him.
Arsehole! That got right up the slavemaster’s nose. No way could the defiance of this royal motherfucker be allowed to persist. This face visibly struggling to carry on with this fight. A face contorted by pain but streaked with this fucker’s obstinate will. The prick was still battling for control over his features .. hitting back .. fighting back .. face gritted to keep a grip on his suffering. His jaw tight clenched as if ignoring the chest marked with stinging stripes of red. A jaw clenched in bloody-minded determination .. fighting back against the agony meant to break his pigheaded will. The arsehole still thought he could win!
Fuck the prick!
“Keep that arsehole turnin’.”
The guard dutifully gave the frame another shove, giving the assembled slaves a revolving gallery of this prick’s agonies.
“For bein’ a royal arsehole ….”
The slavemaster growled, addressing the assembled slaves. He glared at Maciste’s two minders. They dutifully put down their jugs of water .. refreshing themselves. They got the message. They weren’t finished with this prick. They cricked their necks preparing themselves .. The one behind worked his arm in a circle by his side, his cane whooshed in evil readiness. In front the minder gripped each end of his cane in his hands .. above his head, flexing it, lending his weapon extra springiness.
“… for thinkin’ he’s better than this .. For thinkin’ he can beat this …”
The slavemaster snarled at the guard tasked with showing off Maciste’s suffering.
“Keep the fucker turnin’.”
The revolving frame got another shove.
“For getting’ up my fuckin’ nose …”
The slavemaster took a look at his “animals” .. obediently watching .. following the rules, doing as ordered .. hands up behind the head. Submissively doing what was expected of them .. obeying .. fearing. And he’d have THIS royal motherfucker obeying without question too .. just had to get it into his thick skull .. just had to drive the message in through that muscled flesh .. till the arsehole caught on. What had he’d been sentenced to? Orders of the king. Never-ending punishment.
” .. for bein’ an arsehole ….. “
Dramatically the slavemaster paused.
He glared at Maciste’s pair of minders.
“At this time … do as fuckin’ told. Lay it on hard.”
His gaze flashed down the length of Maciste’s suspended torso .. slowly revolving.
“Let ’em hear the fuckin’ pig squeal.”