A roar went up when Maciste was exposed. It had taken only a couple of tugs to rip Maciste’s flimsy rags from his waist. The troops all around had bawled, punched the air.
“Prince’s cock! Prince’s cock!”
The scum of the Parthian army was howling with drunken delight. Howling that they’d got the prince of the goat-shaggers to show himself. THAT what a prince’s cock looks like?!! That incy-wincy thing! That some man? Been shagging goats too much! Everyone of them was more than that! Parthian cock! Parthian cock! Parthian cock!
Drunken bawls at seeing the arsehole helplessly made to show off his princely dangler! A triumph. The Parthians ruled the roost. A Parthian soldier shouted, Boo! The goat-shagger prince had to waggle his cock.
The sergeant had wandered back to slug back another beaker of liquor. Laughing with his men jeering the naked captive.
“Call that a cock? My dog can do better!”
The brutes were uncouth, they were drunk. Going on like soldiers did when they were having a good time. Winding up a mate. Putting him down. Male rivalry. It never made any sense, it was the drink talking. And false macho pride.
And Maciste was man enough not to let this goading get to him. He knew how he looked, he’d never had any complaints from where it mattered. He had more worries on his mind. His friend down below, clutching his knees. Ordered to do the unthinkable. Maciste had to make it easy on his friend.
The show was on, a performance was required. Failure to give a good show was going to come crashing down on Menander’s head. The friend’s grip on Maciste’s knees gripped tighter. Embarrassment. Shame. Helplessness. The sight of Maciste’s bare manhood right in front of his nose. Menaced by what Menander had been commanded to perform on it.
Maciste looked down, talking to the back of Menander’s bowed head. Taking advantage that the sergeant was off downing more booze.
“THIS? Think of it as just another stinking Parthian cock.”
Quietly Maciste whispered down at his tortured friend.~
“Shut your eyes. A cock’s a cock.”
Menander wasn’t looking up. He couldn’t look his friend in the eye.
“Tell yourself .. If only you could dig your teeth in ….. Gnaw it off ….”
Maciste suppressed the chuckle. Not wanting to give the game away.
“See it like that …….”
Best encouragement Maciste could come up with.
“But I’d rather you didn’t …….”
Through the grip of his legs, Maciste felt it. A slight shake on his knees. With his friend’s face full of the hairiness of his groin, Maciste knew he had made contact. They understood. Even Menander .. distraught as he was .. he had laughed.
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