He’d had a hard-on. As he took the salute from his troops. Marching across the border in triumph. Passing before their general. Giving mock salutes to the rebel prince they’d taken. Stood near-naked, bound to a stake. Mocked by hundreds of enemies as they passed. Mocking his end. Scornful of him in his defeat. Stripped of every dignity.
A hard-on born on satisfaction. Hard with the power he exercised over this prick-of-a-prince. Still he defied. Still stubborn as an ox. But Tiradates had brought him in. His success held that over-muscled arsehole in total humiliation. And it was Tiradates that was subjecting him to this prolonged shaming. The power that kept him hard. Shamed by the enemy he’d defied marching past in triumph. His rebellion finished. His prospects hopeless.
For hours he’d sat on his stallion taking the salute. But his focus had had eyes for only one. The pain-in-the-arse on his cart. Shamed by his failure. Breathing in the enemy’s dust. Saluted by those who’d beaten him. Men who’d applauded as the prick was made to demean himself. Forced to stick it to his own countryman up the arse. Memories. Triumphs. Thoughts that would not let Tiradates’ cock go down.
It still rankled. Tiradates had been out-manoeuvred. Off doing the lord emperor’s business. And while his back was turned, his enemies back at court had put one over on him. Stabbed him in the back. Robbing him of his triumph. For now.
This was HIS prisoner, this arsehole was Tiradates’ entry to fame and fortune. Somehow back at court it had been decided the prisoner would be committed to a period of re-conditioning in Hellgate. Tiradates had no doubts. His enemies had persuaded the emperor. They were out to deny Tiradates his return to the capital in triumph.
As he rode at the front of his troops, Tiradates saw still his prisoner. Strong, muscled, he would impress. Impress the emperor that his general had prevailed against such strength. Tiradates again imagined the moment of his triumph. Presenting this stud of a warrior to his lord emperor. With the capture of this one-time prince Tiradates had brought the war to an end. That was HIS achievement. All rebellion had been crushed. The troops could return home. The huge costs saved. All thanks to Tiradates. The emperor should look on him generously.
But those damned courtiers had intervened. First the prisoner would be sent to Hellgate .. for re-educating .. to have his spirit broken. To be brought before the emperor a broken man .. all thanks to the intervention of Tiradates’ enemies. OF COURSE. THEY knew best what policy to follow!
“Where is this Hellgate, then?” Tiradates had asked.
Curious what his prisoner was going to be put through. Tiradates was watching two of the handlers roughly man-handling his captive up against the stake. Impressive, these guards had got straight down to it. They didn’t mess around, shoving the slave around, punches to just the right place. He was soon finding out they didn’t like being pissed off.
“Don’t know. All very secretive …..”
All the answer he got. No one knew where Hellgate was, certainly not an emperor’s general. The whereabouts of the Emperor’s personal facility. Where he committed his most hated enemies. Men who had betrayed him, captured nobles who refused to bend the knee. No one knew exactly what went on there. But few had seen men return.
“Don’t know exactly ourselves.”
The men were lying. Lying out of their arses. He knew that.
“Have to wait for a guide to arrive. Show us the way.”
Bollocks, Tiradates thought. They knew the way, they’d head off as soon as Tiradates and his army set off back to the capital. With Maciste in-tow. Same place that Vologases always sent those who got right up his nose. Where he exacted retribution. Lifelong. Or as long as the fuckers lasted out.
Hellgate. Where the emperor’s vindictive nature let rip. Warrior leaders like Maciste, strong, brave in battle, stubborn in captivity. Sent to Vologases’ secret torture colony. Sent away roaring defiance. Trouble-makers like this slave. Dispatched by Vologases to Hellgate for a dose of lifelong taming. Departing roaring like a lion. And disappeared. Without a trace. Almost none were ever seen again.
Rumour was, though, it was a life of perpetual torment. The emperor didn’t let them off lightly. A slit across the throat .. slowly lifted off the earth by the throat, legs kicking ….. nothing so kind. Vologases intended fuckers like Tiradates’ prisoner to pay. With every waking breath.
The few that had been permitted to return, Tiradates had heard .. permitted so that the emperor could supervise their deaths himself .. they had returned broken men. Whimpering like a scared puppy dog.
This prick-of-a-prince, though, was destined to return. Next time Tiradates clapped his eyes on the broad muscular back of his prisoner .. at a raised eyebrow from the lord emperor, the prick would rush forward and kiss his royal arse. Or greedily suck Vologases’ kingly dick
No one knew what went on. No one knew where Hellgate was. And no one was too eager to find out.