Maciste had endured this self-same torture in Hellgate. He had reason to fear it. Seated astride that pole for hours, immobilised. Agony pressing into his crotch In Hellgate Maciste had been left many times out in the weakening sun .. sitting astride a torture wedge. His own weight pressing down on the pole .. crushing his own balls beneath his muscled mass.
And that had only been for hours .. there had always been a stop to the seemingly never-ending pain. But here …..? For his treacherous general Vologases had devilishly combined the slow death of the cross with the grinding agonies of that torture bar. What Tiradates got, Maciste shared.
Maciste was slowly being lifted up in the air. Almost straightaway he felt his bodyweight
press down on the spike. As if to wish it
away, he glanced down. He saw his feet
tied taut to the sides of the cross, pulled tight allowing no wriggle room. And already pressure was beginning to dig into him between the legs. Hours in Hellgate told Maciste what was to
Wanting to believe he had some control over this, Maciste struggled back. Desperation made him try to squirm .. he pulled on the ropes on his hands .. to lift himself off. But his legs were pulled punishingly straight, his knees pressed right against the wood. No movement. No wriggle. No escape.
When he glanced over at Tiradates, he saw his own plight. He cursed his fate .. getting thrown into the same hopeless lot with his sworn enemy. Tiradates’ cross was already fully upright. Arms roped out to the thick of the crossbar, legs tied to the upright. A mirror image of Maciste’s predicament. And there sticking out from his naked crotch, a thick iron stake. Like a rampant second cock, fully erect.
A panic rushed to Maciste’s head. Death on the cross .. dealing with the crushing despair of seeing your body slowly tortured into nothing .. feeling every shred of strength of will crushed by time and mindless torture. As if that wasn’t enough! …. On top of that, the cruel emperor had ordered Tiradates to endure the unbearable pains of getting his manliness crushed by his trapped weight. And what Tiradates got, Maciste shared. Muscle-heavy. Weighty, thick-bodied, muscular Pressing tortured onto Maciste’s nuts. Cruel. Devastatingly painful. Will-breaking.
A crushing thought, the whole plight. Monstrously cruel. And depressing. A slow agonised death. Spiralling down from physical weakness to abandoning hope. Agony seguing into mindless despair. His own body weight pressed down on his balls. A scene to crush out of him the will to live.