The metal clasp that would trap it around his neck and condemn him to slavery .. and worse .. it caught the sun and glistened. Like a lion’s snarl. Like a tiger baring his fangs. Mocking the stupid fucker down on his knees. Tricked into thinking he could set free the hostages.
Tiradates kicked at the dust. Kicked the collar closer. Taunting the helpless prick, twisted over forward, staring down at that symbol of his defeat. His head projected forwards, neck exposed. Reminded Tiradates of a man about to lose his head. Doomed for this stupid gesture of surrendering. What a stupid prick!
Fuck, that was going to feel good. Forcing him. Making him put on the symbol of his downfall .. do it himself. Tiradates could feel the swell of domination of this over-muscled arsehole. A manly rush at his groin. Revelling at his supremacy over this stuck-up prince. Forced into the utmost shame. Made to eat shit.
Wear it, motherfucker! Put on your fucking collar. Vologases’ slave.
Important, the arsehole had to do it himself. Forced, given no fucking-choice. Shamed into doing the dreaded act himself. Cringing as he did it. Forced. Tiradates squeezed at the growing power in his loins.
Put it on, you cocksucker! Just your fucking size! Mortify your stuck-up fucking-self. Do it! Humiliated by that hated symbol. Choke on your fucking pride with that detested shame burning around your fucking neck.
Tiradates gave his aroused pleasure another gratifying squeeze.
Where WAS that fucking whore?