A pig’s life
Animals. Worse. Godless monsters. Did he believe such cruelty? What turned men into heartless creatures like this? These filthy heathens, less than human. Stringing Mitch out like that. To bake.
Obvious what they were up to. Fry the fight out of him. Sailor had watched. Powerless. Feeling guilty as hell. If it was him .. him in Mitch’s position .. he’d have been hoping like crazy someone would rush up and help out. But what could be do? Powerless.
What could any of them do? Helpless. They’d be beaten back. Beaten half-dead if they tried. And Mitch would still be left under this pitiless sun. Still left staked out .. as good as naked .. with this merciless heat roasting him alive. All they could do .. from their shelter from the blistering sun .. watch!
Give Mitch his due …… For a guy who’d had these minders on his back for an endless morning .. worked into the ground ….. for a guy, exhausted, who had been staked out to be tortured under this sun …… Mitch was making a damn-good fist of it. You had to be proud of him. Sailor had to admire the guts.
Head up, shoulders back, chest out .. not giving any sign of backing down. Sailor heard him say something. Too far away to hear what. But clearly the handler didn’t like the tone. He slammed his stick across Mitch’s midriff. The blow knocked him back. His leg went backwards, he bent up with the force
Sailor winced. But then his spirits lifted. Seeing Mitch answer back. Watching him step back up to the plate. He must have flexed and hardened to stop the hurt of the blow. In seconds he was back upright. Chest up, tight belly pulled in. And Sailor saw him sneer some remark back into the handler’s face.
Mitch was not going down without a fight! Good on ya, son!
“That the best you can do?”
Mitchell sneered into his minder’s face.
It was a stupid move. Mitchell knew it was. Goading the handler. But he’d had this fool on his back all morning. His guts were churning. No idiot. He knew what this was going to be like .. strung-out like this. Fears of being left out in this sun jumped like crazy in his gut. Stuck out here .. even for an hour. His skin would fry. His head dry out. They’d roast the fight out of him. BUT …. he was pissed off! Fuck the consequences.
“Want me to show you how?”
Another blow slammed across his front. The pain of a stick cracking across his ribs was going to hurt. And shattered like he was, it seemed ten times worse. But no way was this bastard going to see that.
“You have to stop pulling your punches,” he goaded. “Put your back into it.”
The handler growled. Angry his hand grabbed this fool of a slave by the jaw. The grip squeezed. The pressure made the pig wince. He saw confusion mix with pain in his eyes .. sign of how done-in he was. But then the dog sneered back.
Angered at this stubborn stupidity, the handler let go a punch into the pig’s unsuspecting gut. Took the damned infidel by surprise. The grunt came out ragged through the jaw crushed in the handler’s hands.
“Think you’re some tough guy, eh? Think you can tough this one out?”
Again he punched the damned fool hard in the belly. But fuck it! The pig had been ready for him this time. The fist met with toughened muscle. Angered he tightened his grip on the jaw. Provoked he crushed down on bone again. Cutting off any cocky remark.
“Gonna make ya eat every single fucking word, pig’s arse.”
His fist was now up in front of Mitchell’s face. Threatening to smash his teeth in.
“Ismael, why you wasting your breath?”
Mitchell heard the other minder, behind.
“Look at him. An hour from now he’ll be eating out of your hand.”
Mitchell heard him snigger.
“Let the sun do the work for you.”
The voice behind chortles.
“Soon enough he’ll be begging you to give it him up the arse. Anything to get out of this sun.”
The face crushing on Mitchell’s jaw smirked. He nodded. Agreeing. Sneering into his victim’s face.
“A bit of time out in this heat .. ya gonna be eating out of my fucking hand …….”
To underline his point he squeezed hard. Saw his slave grimacing .. eyes closed. Then he slammed a punch with all he had into the slave’s gut. Gratified by a loud grunt. Left the fool of a slave panting for air .. left this fucker to sweat it out.