Under normal circumstances ….. given his usual strength …. if he’d met that huge torso on the battlefield …. if he’d been robbed by that muscle-head in a street ….. Maciste would have gone for him.
But warily, cautiously. The man was built. And he was showing it all off. Stripped to near-nothing, it was like he was out to intimidate the planet by his build. Even fully clothed, no one could miss the physical power. Maciste would have fought him. But it would have taken all his skill.
Under normal circumstances …… but nothing was normal right now. Weak like he couldn’t remember. His head was in a spin. He was having to shake his head to clear his thoughts. His strength kept collapsing in on him. His mind blanking out for a moment. Until his fighting spirit warned him to get a grip. Recognising the warning signs.
This muscle-brute was the threat. And Maciste was hardly ready for it. If he took a hard fist to the jaw, it could floor him. If Maciste threw a punch, it felt like he’d do more harm to himself. Weak, weak all over.
His feet were being lifted. Maciste’s head was struggling to take things in. But it felt like his legs were being lifted .. something digging into his ankles. THINK! On his front, head reeling from that fall still …. He was being dragged .. on his chest .. his face scraping in the grit. Maciste was being pulled up by the feet. Pretty quick, he was doubled-up backwards, spine severely arched, chest and face pressed into the earth .. his legs being smoothly hauled up into the air.
He cried out. Shocked pain as a foot stomped down on his backbone, bent backwards. A force that had his face scrape in rock-hard earth. And still the pull on his ankles lifted him off the earth.
His hands broke free of the ground and his body righted itself, swinging upside-down .. mercifully his twisted back free .. swaying in the air off his ankles, cord digging into flesh ….. Maciste felt hands on his legs, turning him. Still catching his breath, his upside brain still orienting itself. A pair of bare muscular legs came into sight. Instinctively Maciste knew who they belonged to. That muscular threat under the torture frame.
Before he could react, a leg lifted. A knee hammered into his guts. Smacking hard into his upside down torso .. smashing through unsuspecting muscle below his belly button. The wind rushed out of him with a loud grunt. It moved fast .. for all that muscular bulk. Or was Maciste particularly slow? Disturbingly slow.
“Think you can glare back. Eh?”
Maciste shook his head. He had glared back? He couldn’t remember. Or ….. just some excuse …..? But caught out. Still catching his breath, Maciste was not ready. Shocked he saw the knee kicking out again. It came at him like in slow motion. But he was not ready for it.
The knee knocked him backwards, forcibly hard. Thudding with breath-taking force into the muscle above his navel. His wind snorted out of his nose with the shock. Hands grabbed at his thighs, steadying him. Three more body-breaking knee-kicks smashed into his guts. Fast, hard. Crippling.
Unprepared. Shattered. Disoriented. Maciste took the blows without fighting back. No defensive flex in his belly. His innards crumbling under the force. Surprised. Worryingly too slow. Done-in. Pain hammered through his guts. Sharp shards of shock spilled out onto the earth.
And still the rope on his ankles kept raising him up. Out of the reach of that attacking knee, at least.
The movement upwards stopped. Maciste was swinging. His face was in line with a powerful male chest. Solid plates of muscled steel in front of his eyes. He tried to look upwards .. seeking the face of this muscle-stud who’d kicked the crap out of his belly. His innards burning.
But the two bodies were too close. Maciste was getting nothing from craning his neck up to see.
He froze. Then he tried to squirm away. A hand was on his groin. Digging in. Exploring fingers had found his balls. Finger and thumb settled on one. And squeezed.
“The emperor has ordered you here.”
The grip squeezed tighter. Maciste froze. He was gritting his teeth.
“He has ordered you broken.”
Maciste’s instinct was to answer back …. The emperor would wait a fucking long time. But any such thoughts were crushed with the pressure that was squeezing on his nut. Painfully squeezed between punishing finger and evil-minded thumb. The moan seeped out of his chest. Unstoppable he gasped out.
The voice went on taunting.
“Thinking are you ….? Broken? Over my dead body …. That’s what you’re thinking? Are you ….?”
The hunk’s grip there was incredible. The crush on Maciste’s one ball had his whole body rigid with pain.
“DEAD body? Not an option.”
The grip squeezed the ball flat. Mouth open .. a hissing groan seeping out of the pained depths of Maciste’s throat.
In desperation, he used his bound arms to try and bat at the stud’s muscular legs. Try and knock those legs of solid granite away.
At this angle it did nothing. But still the man responded. Punishing. Squeezing tighter still.
“Think again. The emperor has ordered it. Dog.”
Maciste couldn’t hold it in anymore. He cried out. His nut crushed in a terrifyingly powerful squeeze.
“What the lord emperor orders, he gets.”
How could muscle find even more squeeze? Forearms of steel. Tears of pain watered Maciste’s eyes.
“You WILL BE crushed …….. Slave.”
Impossible. It squeezed even harder. How ……? Torture had been locked in Maciste’s chest. Agony let it go …… a long agonised groan.