He’d have preferred to be cleaned up by nubile female slaves. But as their prisoner .. a man to be condemned to death .. a price on his head .. Conan couldn’t afford to be too fussy. As long as things got him where he wanted to go ……
Hands tied to iron chains .. stuck behind bars in some cellar under the temple .. young men stripped him naked and soaped him over. Was everyone in this temple in such superb physical shape? Judging by the lean defined muscle soaping him down .. another peaked bicep spoon-feeding him soup from a bowl .. Conan could not wait to get his hands on the females here. No doubt those lucky morons he called his gang were getting their rocks off right now.
It was chilly down under the temple. Stood naked, back to the dank wall .. the chill seeped into his flesh. But he’d endured worse in his life. And if all of this got his maulers on that jewel … he’d not be complaining.
He’d wondered at that effigy of theirs. Their precious god-head .. god of war .. a life-sized statue, naked male in his full war-like glory. A diamond the size of Conan’s hand where his boner was. If he worked this right .. Conan would have wheedled himself into a position where their arsehole-of-a-god was missing his precious hard-on. Gone in a puff of smoke. Risk was .. he might leave his gang behind .. they’d have to face the music …… Pathetic morons that they were.
As the stories went …… she worked her prime prisoners over. The ones she took a fancy to .. they got their manliness put top the test. Always going for that effigy of studliness, like her god . man-erect. His cock was going to be in for it. That was what she did to men whose manliness who got her wet. Like it stood erect to challenge her. Break a stud through that which made him a stud.
And that WAS the heart of Conan’s plan. Her craving his cock.
He’d take beatings, he’d had enough in life, he’d survived. These muscle-bound temple guards would be ordered to make him pay. A price he’d have to pay, no choice. But a price worth paying. Getting worked over. Beaten. Whipped. She’d order his manliness worked on .. fucked over. But think about the prize …….
And it only took once ….. She only had to shove Conan’s projectile into herself .. however roughly she went about it .. just go one round and he’d have her hooked. Old-cocky didn’t know how to let him down.
And the way she had longingly looked him over .. looking down on him from that balcony …… Conan had no doubt. Veiled or not veiled, Conan had sensed it. Old-cocky had rumbled at the sight. She was a woman. She’d want him. Inside . She needed him. HARD.
And then .. if thing’s went to plan .. Conan’s reliable accomplice down there .. getting soaped over by a muscular near-naked stud .. Old-cocky would make himself indispensable.