Thursday, April 16, 2015
Blond Hero knew he was in for it when he fell into this brave's mantrap. The guy is expert with the knife, and he'll carve his name on hero's chest as a permanent memento. That rare and highly-prized cheetah skin brief was an error. That will be carefully removed, for brave's own wardrobe. And hero's foreskin. Painful, but not humiliating. A sign in fact of admiration, from one man to another. They'll look one another closely in the eye as that razor-sharp knife removes its trophy of manhood. The brave's tribe circumcises boys at birth, so to own the foreskin of a big white warrior is a prize beyond price. He'll make the guy his slave for a while, but the similarity in ideals, build, age and self-interest will assert itself. The blond and his captor will become blood brothers, covering each other's back in battle and sharing their women. But brave will always get first pick. One false move and hero knows that his brother-in-arm's knife will claim his balls. With speedy vengeance
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
Tarzan knows the game is up. His trials will now begin, and his adrenalin shoots. He moves those big arms slightly wider, away from his dagger. His sign of surrender. A soft, male murmur rises up from the braves, and the one behind him goes right up behind Tarzan's back. He feels the brave's hardening groin pressed against his arse crack, and holds his position of surrender. The brave delicately lifts Tarzan's dagger out of its sheath. He reaches it round to Tarzan's front and runs the tip down his abdomen, from his chest to his pubes, drawing a thin line of blood. Tarzan slowly raises his arms and widens his stance. He's theirs. A deafening shout of triumph goes up from the troop as the brave behind him uses Tarzan's dagger to cut away his loin cloth. The men quickly grab Tarzan's wrists and ankles and carry him off deep, deep into the jungle for punishing ordeals of pain, exhaustion and abuse. He suffered the same fate from these men when he was 19. He's ready for it again now
Signs and symbols were crucial to ancient societies, and the guard's sword, held at the correct angle, told the other prisoners where this guy was heading. To the Sword Room. Deep in the darkness of the deepest levels of the dungeons was the emperor's sword chamber, scattered with oriental rugs and cushions and scented with resinous lamps and sconces. Such luxury was of little comfort to the whipped bastard here, as he was spread out wide, face down in the damasks, and held by Nubian slaves as the emperor penetrated the man with his `sword`. Unluckily for him this ruler came from the military, and was a man to be reckoned with. He knew only too well how to punish a man with a devastating fuck from hell. He would enjoy this man's strength, and attempt to hold on to his dignity, so much that he would become a regular favorite.
Thursday, March 19, 2015
After hours or struggling the young warrior is within minutes of accomplishing his escape. Very unfortunately for him, the evidently not so drunk torturer awakes and sounds the alarm. The Prince arrives "leaving so soon" and orders the strong, brave warrior locked up for the night. "Ah, my friend we will continue tomorrow"
The strong battered warrior left under the guard of a very drunk torturer plots his escape. Unnoticed the heat of the pit had burned through the leather straps attached to his toes, as the torturer nods off, through his own pain the begins his escape.