He was on fire. His head swimming. Still, when he felt calloused hands stroke him .. pawing over his burning arse. .. when insistent thumbs started prising his crack apart. .. every manly sense in his strong body came alive.
Mitchell cursed, he spat his anger into the tabletop. He squirmed. He pressed his arse-cheeks tight together. NO WAY! These sick bastards were getting off on his arse.
Burning up. Running with sweat. Hard to breath .. gasping for air into the tabletop. Heart thudding. The pulse in his ear drowning it all out.
A dozen he’d counted. Mind-blowing .. will-breaking .. a dozen brutal strikes with his own favourite belt .. doubled-over. The crack of leather on skin setting the air alight. Sharp, loud, making you jump. The snap of leather on skin bursting in his head. Sharp, stinging, making Mitchell gasp.
“What do you reckon ….?”
Rais was doing the asking. Still Mitchell was squeezing with all his strength. .. fighting back with all he had .. determined like crazy to keep these perverts out of his backside. Forehead pressed into the tabletop. Concentrating. Putting all his strength of mind into protecting his back passage. He had no idea what it meant, he’d never given it a thought. How it’d feel .. getting raped. How some evil-minder bastard stuck it up another man. Never thought about it. Who would? Not the foggiest idea how it would hurt. It would, he was sure. But the indignity! The disgrace. A cock up his arse! These bastards were not getting away with that. With added determination he squeezed back.
“This white slave’s arse .. how much is it worth?”
The thumbs either side of Mitchell’s crack were insisting .. battling against his solid muscle strength .. Mitchell putting up a fight .. Zidan’s thumbs insisting back. Determined to open the white man-slave up.
Fuck you! Carter been assaulted. His backside thrashed till he could have screamed. He was burning up. Sweating. But no way were these animals having his arse!
“If you ask me ,” .. Zidan smirked behind Carter’s back. Thumbs digging in. Strength of his hands prising Mitchell apart.
“White-skinned arse like this. …. muscled, hard .. a fighter ….”
Still that hand picked away at my Mitchell’s dread. Just now he’d been struggling with the heat burning him up. His focus then had been on trying to hide the tremble of shock in injured muscle. Refusing to show them how much he was hurting. Denying them any pleasure that his proud marine muscle was suffering. Hiding his tears of pain from Rais’ mocking eyes.
And THEN .. shock ripped his mind back to his backside. To the thumbs either side of his crack prising it open. Zidan’s coarse pirate thumbs cold against his own burning flesh. Opening him up! Before raping him. Sticking it to him!
He squeezed back. He resisted. Burning injured muscle cramped, hurt, bit back. But still Mitchell fought on. Desperately. Refusing the stinking pervert entry. Yet still .. doggedly .. those damned thumbs fought him too. The fight for possession of his arse was on.
“Arse like this ….”
Zidan’s thumbs worked .. digging into whiplashed muscle .. fingers scraping at burning skin .. determined to prise open the locked gates. Mitchell crushed burning muscle together stubbornly tight .. closing the gates of hell against the foe.
” .. muscled, hard, American arse … like this …”
In case Mitchell had any doubts about which backside they were talking about, he stood a sudden hard slap on his burning cheeks. Shocking him .. change of tactic. For a moment the sting of a slap on burning skin loosened his fight. In an instant the thumbs were back, applying extra pressure. He felt thumbs clawing at injured muscle .. his tight-clenched crack coming under increased threat. Teeth gritted, he tortured himself .. forcing severely damaged muscle to put up a fight for life-and-death.
They were talking about HIS backside .. brutes, animals. Dread had his bare balls in a tight grip. Talking about what it would bring them .. put up for sale. Not his hide. Not his muscled back. These animals were debating how much they could sell his arse for. Like there were evil-minded bastards out there in their stinking slave markets .. they bought a guy just for the pleasure of using his arse. A male slave bought for sex! Animals. Stinking heathen animals!
Suddenly, underneath the prising thumbs a finger jabbed at him .. digging right at his arsehole. He grunted .. shocked. A desperate fresh threat. A warning sign .. where this was going. Mitchell squeezed back. Like hell! He heard laughter. He heard Zidan behind him chortle. The finger jabbed at him again. It gained no entry. But that jab was a sign. A warning. A potent threat. A frightening reminder. Menacing Mitchell’s arse-virginity.
“A manly arse such as this …..”
Zidan’s joking finger jabbed. Mitchell crushed himself tight.
” ….. gonna come in for plenty of practice ….”
Voices laughed. Mocking him. Mocking his futile fight.