That thought had got him worried out there on the temple steps. That he could be dangling by the neck off a rope .. that they might have jumped him over bothering the priesthood with a sentencing ….. He’d felt a desperation that the jewelled cock had slipped out of his grip. Instead hauled up by the neck .. his feet only inches off the ground .. legs kicking .. slowly being choked to death. While the mob cheered …..
But luck was again on his side. Old-cocky was still in the running for a stab at that priestess. But still the evil fuckers made him wait. Every muscle in his arse aching. His backside on fire. Brought straight from the temple steps .. every step jarring in his arse .. jostled to the temple hall. Made to stand outside massive wooden doors. Closed against him. Waiting to attend the priesthood. Waiting to be condemned to death. Waiting for an opening for Old-cocky to do his stuff
Sentenced to be hanged? Not if Old-cocky could help it. Despite appearances, things WERE going to plan. He’d not expected this part of his plot to be comfortable. He’d taken violence into account. This treatment .. that humiliating flogging .. the tears of pain running down his face .. laughed at, mocked .. it went with what he’d expected.
Anything that got his hands on that giant gem. Beyond those massive doors was his target. That prize bitch, world-class sadist. Famed for sexually abusing her prisoners. Before submitting men to the most agonising death she could come up with. He just had to get her to use him .. as she was wont to do. Old-cocky would do the rest. It was all down to his skills. All down to what you did with it. And old-cocky never let him down.
The doors opened. He was barged forwards. A great hall .. her throne at the far end. In an instant Conan spied her out. No hot-blooded man was going to miss her. Seated on a dais .. dominating the space. She’d changed. Wearing the same gear as her temple guards. FUCK, she looked mouth-watering. Tight black leather top, armless, cropped at the waist. One leg stretched out .. long, enveloped in soft alluring leather.
Breath-takingly long leg, an eye-catching come-on. What fucking hot-blooded male was going to say No? Conan’s lustful gaze ran all the way to the top of a thigh. Making his blood race. And interest prickled in his gut. In the little he was wearing she’d know his interest soon enough.
Her tunic was held closed by a clasp at the neck. Even from this far away, Conan imagined the crush of her breasts underneath. Pert, small, crushed by the tightness of her top .. eager for release. His mind’s eye watered at the thought of an eager nub mounted on a large brown nipple pressing against black leather! Seductive, fucking tempting. Hard, needy flesh. Craving for release by a horny man’s hand. Conan’s imagination licked a lip at the thought. He felt a rush of interest rising under his rags.
A moan caught his attention. Roped to the columns, arms above their heads, tied to a ring .. a line of men. Every second column, a whiplashed back. She knew how to make a point. Cruelty, sadism .. a line of whiplashed backs to daunt his spirit. But the thought of besting a woman of such tastes sent a stronger rush a blood through his loins.
Backs bloody. ripped open from a vicious whipping. Her promise for him? Five men facing their columns. Conan was jostled past them. Past this show of her cruelty. To intimidate him as he approached.
Then one face turned to him. Under the swollen eye, through the cut lip and bruised face, Conan recognised the face. Axon, his gang-member. The five of them, whiplashed. Pinned to the pillars. His own men.
No getting their rocks off with slave girls? This their reward for turning him in …….?