His wrists ached, cuffed with cold metal and stretched tight over his head, shackled to a metal cross bar. The dramatic effect, however, could hardly be denied; the prisoner’s smooth chest and muscular abs, naked under the hard light, taut and helplessly exposed. He flinched when one of the captors, smiling brightly, unzipped the fly of his trousers…pausing to savour the strung up buck’s embarrassment, then stripping them off and tossing the warm denim into a nearby corner.
He hung panting in the interrogation cubicle, a modern slave clad in nothing but his loincloth waiting for what everyone in the suddenly crowded room knew had to come next. First they spread his legs wide, anchoring hairy ankles to eye bolts in the floor, toying with the virile captive a while before…
ripping his shorts off with a theatrical flourish. The young stud hung naked, painfully exposed to the hungry gaze of the strangers crowding the room. His cock and balls swung unprotected between his spread legs, shorthairs prickling in the still air as calloused hands ran a rough exploration of all of the contours of his manhood.
The pain was intense but not unbearable; whipped lightly with a supple quirt, tight ass paddled red but not bloody raw, like a rough game or rite of passage. The handsome prisoner endured it stoically, more wounded by the humiliation than anything else. Eventually, cut down from the horizontal pole, he rubbed chaffed wrists wondering what act would follow the warm up.
They made him stand for a while, self-consciously naked, posing on command as he ground even white teeth at the indignity, all the while flexing slabbed muscle, always conscious of his dick and dangling balls exposed in the harsh light and still smarting from interested gropes. ‘Put your hands down.’ The terse command came as a relief and the prisoner dared to hope that this portion of the ordeal was at an end and that they would now take him back to his cell, maybe even let him shrug back into his discarded trousers. ‘Sold to the esteemed gentleman from Taiwan…’ What the FUCK!!!!!! The voice echoed ominously in his head as the perplexed stud’s new owner ushered his skittish animal from the examination cubicle…just a few steps down the corridor to another, better stocked, cell where (when the door was closed insuring a measure of privacy) the real fun would soon begin.
A week and a half later…
He shouldn’t have surrendered, he had never done so in his life…but this had been different, there were just too many of them…right? The tall buck hung tense in the bright lights, twisting against his bonds, painfully aware of his nudity as he hung spread eagle in the narrow corridor. They thrust a quill through the shaft of his arcing penis and he dumbly wondered why even as the ragged scream ripped from his throat. The crowd of connoisseurs applauded; their lumbering victim, so carefully chosen, hunted and, ultimately, taken down hadn’t failed to impress. ‘And now, gentlemen, watch as I throw the switch…’