5. Command performance
All those jeers …… The soldiers’ name-calling ….. Fuck-arse, they mocked …… Cocksucker .. another abuse Maciste had heard them throwing at Menander. Now it all fell into place. Menander had been hauled away every night. He’d “served” the Parthian thugs. Giving them head. Taking it violently up the arse. Repeatedly. Every night. What had that done to the guy?
And next day he’d got it in the neck from Maciste. Snarling, Why hadn’t he got away? Maciste could not help feeling guilty. And swamped by a crushing need to shield his friend from more abuse. Menander had suffered so much.
Tiradates yanked Menander away. From the mouth-washing Maciste had been feeling the unstoppable surge building. His rampant cockhead from Menander’s licking was pulsating with coming need. But just when he’d feared he’d shame himself …. “seen” by the cat-calling mob … not cuming in Menander’s mouth. Ejaculating over his face. Spurting. Shedding seed in his eyes. Jeered on by the howls of this Parthian pack.
But .. at the prime moment .. Tiradates had hauled Menander off. Yanked his lips away and sent him sprawling. Giving the true prince a good kicking for his efforts. And putting out on display Maciste aching with need .. drooling seed. And for the cheering Parthian scum .. a princely sight to behold!
“Best we can hope for, I suppose …………”
Tiradates had stepped back into the fray. Filling the gap of Menander’s absence. Indicating with mock disdain the strength of Maciste’s hard-on. Then cold-faced Tiradates grabbed hold of Maciste by the base of his solid shaft.
“Lost your spunk when you need to stand erect before your betters? Have you?”
Tiradates waggled Maciste’s hard-on.
“THIS? Not a patch on what a Parthian can do.”
That earned him a loud cheer from the drunks. Tiradates stood wagging the hard-on from side-to-side. Getting cheers of appreciation from the mob.
Tiradates turned his eyes into Maciste’s fury. A smirk lit his mouth. The grip on Maciste’s solid boner tightened .. Tiradates’ defiant response to Maciste’s insolent glare. Returning the look of fury .. both knowing that was ALL Maciste could muster.
In response, Tiradates moved his fingers to Maciste’s burning cockhead. And pushed lightly downwards. Letting both contestants feeling the strength of the two opponents. Feeling the weight of intense need in that boner pushing for the skies .. countering with mean-minded determination pressing down. Combatants sizing each other up. Eye-contact. Cock-contact. Two Parthian fingers pressing down onto solid man-meat pushing up. And .. a glint of supremacy in his eye .. Tiradates made the first move. Slowly he pushed down.
Tiradates sneered. His gaze dominating as he saw Maciste recognise his helplessness. Both knowing what was going down. Both in their own ways understanding the costs .. when the pressure just kept on going.
And down he still pressed. Tauntingly slowly .. two fingers pressed down on that bulging mass of solid man-meat .. Tiradates kept up the pressure. Agonisingly slowly. Tormenting. Playing with Maciste’s mind. Two men who knew what snapped when the pressure went too far.
Maciste was forced to bend at the hips. And still the pressure pushed down on him. Forced his stance to adjust. Maciste was aware of a silence all around. A potent heavy stillness as every eye was on his cock. Ogling his manliness standing firm. Firm but defenceless. That man-in-his-prime strength now made victim to his enemy’s whims. Pressed down … torturously slowly .. as far as it went. Then the pressure held. Held Maciste trembling at breaking point.
Tiradates raised an eyebrow. As if asking, Got anything to say for yourself? Keeping down the push. Both acknowledging the hazard in the slightest added pressure. A sign. Warning. Menace. Just a little bit more …… all it was going to take. A symbol of total dominance. A signal that Tiradates had the power to take this to breaking point.
Suddenly the pressure went. Maciste felt his hardness slapped up against his belly with force. Instinctively his spirits soared. Saved. And all about him the whole darkness erupted in jeers. Beakers raised, booze knocked back. Their general had shown the punk. Nearly had him shitting his pants. Laughed at. Object of ridicule. More booze going down raucous heckling throats.
A game. A joke. One win to the general.
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