Congratulate himself on this success? For Maciste .. this was success? He was being tortured out of his skin. Not anything he’d planned …. When he’d decided to surrender … he’d meant to have got away by now. But that general Tiradates knew the treasure he had in his grip. He was not letting it go.
But at least they were torturing the wrong man. Maciste could only hope the real Menander had somehow got away. After all, the Parthians thought he was just some local peasant. He’d not be watched too closely.
And Maciste was going to fool the Parthians again. He’d consent to Nightmare’s demands. Yothin, his real name, Maciste had heard … Yothin wanted a “prince” to suck his cock. A sign that “Menander’s” obstinate will was breaking down .. that Yothin was winning.
Maciste had planned on doing that already. But Yothin’s patience had run out. He resorted to the piercings. He’d driven Maciste’s body wild .. driven him out of his skin with that poison ….. shattered him. Worked him till every movement had him yelling out in pain. Shattering. Will-breaking ……
But back to the plan. Today’s tortures hadn’t broken his spirit. Maciste could barely move, total exhaustion. But here he was in his pit .. and still planning. He was still fighting. Knowing ….. first chance he got …. with any luck at the end of the next day … Maciste would seem to be giving in. He’d go down on his knees. He’d crawl on all fours. He’d take Yothin limp cock in his mouth and work it up till it was hard. He’d make himself, Maciste would steel himself … swallowing spurts of evil Parthian cum. He would do that.
He’d do that to fool the fucker. He’d do that with a grin on his face .. his nose buried in the preening sucker’s hair. He was swallowing cum to fool the sucker. What did it matter? His girls had done that for Maciste enough times. He was playing the prick for a fool. Letting the prick think it mattered, shaming. He’d think Maciste was caving in. Besting him.
Would it be only once? Maciste doubted it. He suspected Yothin would keep on insisting. Suck him off every day. Why not? He wanted proof that his prisoner was breaking. Maciste had first resisted. Only ending in getting himself starved. He couldn’t survive like that. Yothin would win. Wearing Maciste down. Weakening him.
But Maciste was playing a sly hand. Swallowing cum nightly …. earning himself better rations. Food to keep up the fight. Who knew …..? One time … the chance might come …. he’d have Yothin fooled enough .. he’d have let his guard down. The chance to beat the fucker to death …. Who knew? One day at a time …….
It couldn’t go on without Maciste fooling them …. His way of controlling what Yothin would throw at him. That trick with the needles and the poisons …… incredible how that had got to him. Who would have thought? Whatever they had pumped him full of …….
That fucker from the journey, Ugly …. he had stepped forward to make the point. Just a springy cane. Held in one hand, the other hand pulling back on the tip. Ugly let it go. The spring snapped. It slapped harmlessly on Maciste’s chest. Nothing, no more than a child’s smack on his skin.
It had taken Maciste’s breath away. Astonished, his eyes had torn wide open. A searing flash of fire had exploded under his skin. Shocked, Maciste couldn’t take the rasping gasp of surprise back.
And when Ugly had really set about him …… Maciste couldn’t believe the pain. Twisting and gyrating in his bonds. Unstoppable the cries of shock. Hit with just a cane. But it was like the sharpest blade lacerating through his muscle …. deep inside. Whatever they had pumped into him ……
Maciste had to have the strength to face down such pain. This was Hellgate. He was up against the powers of hell.
Maciste had been general of Menander’s rag-tag army. A handful of skilled soldiers .. the rest loyal enthusiastic peasants who didn’t know the right end of a spear. Up against the skilled discipline of the Parthian army …. Seriously they hadn’t stood a chance. Maciste had got to hate that empire. But their fighting skills were world-class.
Only way he’d found to cope …. Harass the enemy .. attack, kill .. and disappear. Ambush a patrol. Leave their severed heads on a spear. Then merge back into the landscape. Unseen.
In Hellgate Maciste was up against overwhelming odds again. Against the might of the empire. Here in Hellgate, Yothin held every sadistic tool in his hands. Starving “Menander”. Wearing him down by pitiless hard work .. driven beyond any reserves of depleted strength.
Harass the enemy, fool them … here in Hellgate too … was it going to be any different? Maciste had chosen to fight back …. .. in his way .. the smart way. He was giving Yothin what he wanted to see .. he was sucking cock. He was earning himself a better diet .. enough to keep his spirits going.
This was war. Head-on Maciste couldn’t win. Maciste was ambushing his enemy. He was out to fool the arsehole.
Maciste wasn’t breaking. Sucking cock …. that wasn’t giving in. He was getting food in his belly to keep up the fight. Sucking cock gave him the strength to keep battling back. To fight another day. No shame in that. No shame in pulling the wool over those sadistic Parthian eyes.