5. Command performance
Menander lay in the dirt .. drowning under a searing heat of catcalls. Men who had raped him. Scum he’d sucked off. But not a time to lay back .. whiplashed by hate. Tiradates gave him a hard kick in the back.
“Up. Got a job to do.”
Again a solid military boot hammered into Menander’s back. The prince groaned out loud. Then quickly he began to turn onto his side, got up onto hands and knees. Not faster enough for the Parthian. A massive crack with his boot into his ribs sent Menander pitching to the dirt again.
“NOW. FUCKARSE! UP!”
Maciste clenched his fists. Angered at his powerlessness. Stood there, hands tied to this branch. Arse-naked, throwing a fully rampant boner. Ogled by a dozen drunken enemy troopers. His hard-on kept stiff by tight wet rawhide around his root. And raging at not being able to put a stop to this.
Tiradates grabbed Menander by the scruff of his neck and hauled him up. A vicious grip kept him bent-up-double. Tiradates backed him towards Maciste.
“Take him. FUCKARSE. Take this prick-of-a-prince up your arse.”
Menander froze. A split second later he was making to rise. “NO!”
Tiradates knee slammed up into his side. Hard enough to lift Menander to his toes.
“You heard! Take the fucker. Up your arse!”
The clearing erupted. Bawls of raucous laughter. Drunken cheers. Someone set up the chant.
“FUCK.ARSE. FUCK.ARSE. FUCK.ARSE.”
They couldn’t believe their ears. What the general had ordered.
“FUCK.ARSE. FUCK.ARSE. FUCK.ARSE.”
Tiradates jammed Menander’s backside into Maciste’s solid cockhead.
“Done it enough times,” Tiradates growled. “Listen. They know your name. They’ve all had your arse.”
Menander felt the solid heat of hard male flesh pressed into his crack. Maciste! Pressed into him at the top of his legs. His friend! He was shaking. His nerves were on fire.
“Need a Parthian to show you how?”
Maciste jerked when Tiradates roughly grabbed his rampant boner and jabbed it at Menander’s back passage.
“C’mon This hole’s wider that a whore’s.”
Tiradates sneered at Menander’s suffering. Maciste could not believe this was happening. But it was! Confusion. Anger. Concern for Menander. A dizzying mix of wild emotions. In a spin. And it was all crashing down on their heads. Giddy. Like he couldn’t breathe.
Tiradates jabbed Maciste forward. Yanked forwards into Menander by his stiff cock. Trying to ram him inside. Instinct pulled Maciste back. But the grip persisted. Tugging Maciste back by his cock. Yanking his hips forward. Jabbed back into Menander’s arse. Wrenched forward by a sweaty-hot cock.
“Leave the man alone!”
Maciste shouted incensed into Tiradates’ face.
“Get your stinking hands off me!”
Tiradates stopped. His eyes went ice-cold. His mouth turned to steel. Glaring back into the insolence. Still he had one hand on Menander’s neck. Holding him in place .. bent up .. pressed against Maciste’s hard-on. And the other hand still gripped Maciste .. keeping him trapped .. pushing his cock into Menander’s arsehole. His eyes slitted. With rage.
Tiradates called out.
“My horse whip.”
As if by magic, it seemed to Maciste, the whip was in his hand. And slashing down on Menander’s back. Hard. Bitingly hard. Across a back already red-striped with days of evil welts. Tiradates struck again. Grunting loud with the exertion. Menander cried out in shock. He might have tried to rise up .. escape. Except another pair of back-biting lashes sizzled across his back. Breaking him back down. His cry was loud, pained.
Tiradates was still glaring into the insolent face of his slave. Daring Maciste to protest again. Two more pitiless strikes had Menander shudder with pain. Tortured Maciste felt his friend’s hurt against the end of his cock.
Tiradates snarled at Maciste. He was glaring pure evil into Maciste’s face. Two more savage hits ordered Maciste to obey. Stinging. Mercilessly hard. Pitilessly slashing out at a whiplashed back. With back-breaking force. Menander yelled.
Tiradates’ eyes burned. Hissing at Maciste. All the strength of his fury again slashed downwards. Cutting agony out of Menander’s tortured back.
Menander’s leg nearly broke under him.
The force of another half-dozen will-breaking blows exploded across his back. Tiradates still had Maciste pressed against his friend’s back-hole. Maciste felt the sweltering effort of each blow tighten on his shaft as the general’s whip beat the hell out of Menander. The true prince could no longer hold in his pain. He was yelling out loud with every crippling strike. Sharp cries of pain that cut into Maciste’s heart.
“You want him whipped to death?”
Tiradates threated after cutting another stripe out of Menander’s sweat drenched back.
The clearing had erupted with cat-calls. Men caught up in the sadistic swirl of violence. Not a limp cock around. Breathing in the rarified madness in the air.
“HUMP HIM! HUMP HIM!”
Maciste saw he had no choice. His eyes incandescent with rage, he glared his hatred at the Parthian. Who simply smirked back .. eyes icy-cold. And again he lashed out viciously with his whip. Again and again and again. Menander was crying out loud.
“HUMP HIM! HUMP HIM!”
Maciste’s head was in a whirl. A screeching din in his ears, his heart pounding in his chest. Menander couldn’t take much more. Maciste’s head was spinning in a world that had lost all sense. It had gone mad. Jeers. Menander’s pained cries. The swish of a horsewhip cutting down at his friend’s back. Madness. Swirling like crazy in his head.
A sickening madness. World had turned upside-down. Lost for words. Lost for knowing what else to do. Going to put an end to Menander’s pain. He did it. Maciste pushed himself inside. He slid his rampant needy cock inside his friend. He pushed himself inside. And he humped. He humped his friend. He humped his prince.
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