Working in slow barely perceptible motion, Savage carefully completed turning the wench. His little surprise ready, he fixed his gaze, from the gloom, to the brightly lit ring in the center of the auditorium, and his prize quarry which stood flexing at it's center.
He needn't have bothered with such exaggerated caution. The vanity of the rugged Narcissus which swaggered in the light was so deafening, that he could have danced on a tin drum and not drawn attention, even from the few riveted spectators, entranced by the play of perfectly formed muscles under the hot lights.
He couldn't blame any of them for that. Corporal Punishment, as he was called, had worked hard all his life to shape his body into a streamlined fighting machine, as well as the ideal of classical masculine beauty.
That is not to say that he was, even remotely pretty. On the contrary, everything about his demeanor was strong, and above all military. His tight buzz cut, which framed unmistakably Polish features were those of a working class stud, who had fought hard for everything is his life and was justifiably proud of his achievements, not the least of which is the body with which he now teased his adoring fans. Save knew he enjoyed this adulation. He watched his pray sneer condescendingly at the crowd, taunting them. He also knew he had described Savage to his friends as somehow "creepy". These straight boys understood the homoeroticism implied in their sport, and even played to it, but Savage seemed like "he really had a dungeon somewhere, and you never knew what he would do when he had the advantage" Savage chuckled in the shadows. The hunky jarhead had no ideaSavage knew this would not be easy. His opponents rank was no mere fabrication. The American military had forged him into a formidable fighting machine. The Corporal surpassed him in size, agility, skill and strength. He could lose this fight.
Corporal Punishment turned to face the far side of the auditorium, and raised his arms in the familiar strongman bicep flex. His wide back a spectacular play of dancing muscle. Tiny white trunks, more decoration than clothing stretched to near transparency, almost enclosed his heavy, low hanging manhood. As he turned, Savage licked his lips at the high round curve of the buttock half covered the arc, outlining the dark cleft between those round glutes, which seemed to call to him.
No, he would win this fight, not because of skill or strength, simply because he had to conquer that mouthwatering ass. well, that and the mild sedative he had arranged to be added to his opponent's water. Only enough to slow him down. He still looked forward to a good fight.
His eyes fixed on that round muscular prize he crept from the shadows unseen by the strutting fighter. Silently he climbed on top of the ropes and pounced.
Corporal Punishment was taken completely by surprise. The heel, of the heel's boot connecting with the hunk's temple provided just the incapacitating blow Savage was hoping for leaving the stud stunned, reeling, and already at his mercy.
If he could only freeze the nano second he had to watch his reeling opponent try to struggle back to his feet, half-naked and in so much danger, he could smile forever.
But his goal lay past the will of the strongest swiftest, and best-trained fighter he had met. If he was to press anything at all, he must press his advantage.
The abs so well defined as to provide a map to their own destruction was his first point of attack. He carefully watched the hunk's grimace clawed far under the muscles, as if to pull them off them completely off the frantically writhing body. The beautiful face focused so completely on the nearly unbearable pain, and followed up to torture the pecs, which full and round, seemed to offer themselves, a perfect fit, into his deathly claw.
Before his opponent could recover, he found himself pulled by the chin into an excruciating backbreaker. Every vertebra burned as his exquisite torso was racked to the delight of the on lookers. Arms flailing uselessly, as his impressive member, shamefully hard rubbed proudly high against its brief confine for all to see. He could not understand why his normally lightning swift reactions were so slow, as he was tossed, face down onto the matt, and both arms were twisted, seemingly from their sockets to where his wrists were locked in-between the slimy bastard's claw the small of his back. This left the devils' workshop that was Savage's free hand to pull the tiny fabric into a sharply painful wedgie. The Corporal's back and buttocks arched in involuntary reaction pleasingly like a cat in heat, as the heel hooked the spandex onto the thumb holding the struggling arms.
Freeing his hand, once again to roam, boldly, as if training a wild horse, over the exposed bucking glutes, and into the warm place between the legs to tickle the barely covered balls.
The sight of arms bound behind muscled back, above exposed ass, struggling to free itself made Savage want to take the marine right there, but he would never succeed. There was more to come.
The soldier's mind flooded with rage as the freak pawed as his ass like a cheap whore. This faggot may have had a cheap feel, but now he was going to die for it. Fury overrode the pain, and sedative and he burst from his attackers grasp like a vengeful tornado, and Savage found himself flat out on the concrete floor, after having endured a suplex, back breaker, and wrenched knee. Just as quickly he was thrown back into the ring, against the ropes where the attack continued. Meaty fists pummeled mercilessly into his abs, and it was nearly impossible to breathe, let alone press a button concealed under a turnstile. An imperceptible whirring began.
No longer held by the relentless fist Savage fell to the ground.
The victorious hero climbed a top the turnstile to dramatically finish off his would be attacker and froze in horror. The whirring had grown louder, and he learned its sourcr....
To be continued........Next page