Starfucked: Part 230 min read

Biff’s head was filled with a million comets, spiraling. His ears were whistling and his mouth tasted of metal. Obviously that fucker Dex’d gotten his signals crossed and he’d zigged when he should’ve zagged—not that it mattered. Whether it was an accident or on purpose the asshole actor was fucking finished. He’d never work in Hollywood again, and the same went for that so-called “director,” Jake.

A couple more blinks to re-focus his eyes, a shake or two of his head and the burly young stallion would be back up on his feel giving them the boot, yeah.

Oh fucking yeah.

Why was he looking up at stones, though? A ceiling made of stones? There should have been a lighting grid above the coarse wooden rack he was lying on—and, come to think of it, what the hell was he doing lying face-up on the fucking rack in the first place? All the muthafuckas hadda do was help him up and walk him back to the couch in his fucking trailer at the side of the fucking sound stage, right? Right?

Jesus Fucking Kee-rist, heads were gonna fucking roll today!

Awwright. Okay. Fuck the throbbing in his fucking head, Biff Allnuts was getting up now and making his displeasure known. He was gonna sit and then stand and then yell, yeah—

—Something was holding him down at the wrists and the ankles. Huh? Wha? “Lemme up,” he muttered, struggling, eyes snapping open, wide, the trapezoidal plates of his thickly muscled pecs heaving as his back bone arched. “Lemme up, I told ya!”

A leering face intruded itself between Biff’s eyes and the encrusted stones of the ceiling above. Dex. Tigellinus. “You’re awake,” he chuckled, as if he knew something that the younger stud didn’t. “Good. We can begin.”

“You fucking shithead, man,” the star started to splutter, “I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doing but I’m gonna drown you in piss, you don’t cut it the fuck out, you hear me? Huh?” He was bucking on the rack now, finally realizing how expertly his wrists and ankles had been secured to each of its ends. The huge muscles ballooned, the veins bulged beneath the surface of the translucing skin—and it did no good. The ropes holding his limbs fast were thick, coarse and braided. Tightly knotted.

Biff Allnuts—Marius—was going nowhere. Except maybe to hell.

“Get me outta here, dammit,” he yowled, head whipping on the cords of his beefy neck as he looked this way and that for help from the film crew. The security people.

“You think someone is going to come crashing through the walls to save you, Marius?” Tigellinus spoke almost sweetly, savoring the total superiority of his position, reveling in the gape-faced expression blooming on the captive’s handsome young features. All there was was walls, stone walls. All four sides of the catacomb beneath the Forum, stones. No cameras, no mikes, no booms, no lights. No gaffers or grips or best boys. No security people, uniformed and un—

—Just these walls and a couple of tiny openings high up near the ceiling that shouldn’t have been there, either. Barred windows. And, lurking in the shadows around the periphery of the dungeon, at least five well-muscled Praetorions. Maybe eight.

Who the fuck was playing this goddammed mind-game with his head, huh?

Huh?

“All right,” he said, trying to maintain the cool already slipping well away—deciding the whole scene probably had to be some kind of practical joke. “You can cut the Marius’ shit, “Tiggy-linus”—I get the message. Y’ want me t’ cool it, fine. You got it; it’s cooled.” (And as soon as he was up there’d be hell to pay for everyone involved in this unfunny little prank.)

“‘Cool it’?” The hard-muscled young head of the Praetorians didn’t seem as amenable as—let’s say—Dex might have been. The fact was, he seemed quite perturbed. “You think I had you captured just to exchange some amusing little repartee with you and then have everything go back to business as usual?”

Hardly.

“We have too much to discuss, you and I, before we’re finished here.” Tigellinus expected that the conversation would take all night—“perhaps all week. And, I promise you, Marius, the pleasure will be all mine. And my guards’.”

“You shit, I don’t got diddly-squat to talk to you about. You better just let me loose before you really get into trouble, I’m warning you, man.”

“Not to worry,” the head guard assured the prisoner, the palm of his hand now deliberately placed on the silky smooth flesh of Biff’s—Marius’s—inner thigh. The side of the index finger insidiously slipped underneath the leather straps protecting the Tribune’s crotch, close enough to bottom of the high-pouched balls to tickle the wispy hairs growing like strands of seaweed from the pimpled skin of the sac. “You will tell me everything. And, frankly, I do hope it won’t be too soon; it won’t be much fun if you don’t let me work for the information.”

“I don’t know what ‘information’ you’re fucking talking about!” the muscular youngster raged, trying again to twist his way clear of the ropes holding him fast—with no success. His eyes couldn’t help but bulge downward, gaping at the sight—and feel!—of the hand now moving under his big smelly egg-sized baby-makers. “Get your hand offa me, you fuckin’ queer bastard!”

“You don’t like it, hmm?”

“You damn well know what I think of fuckin’ faggot assholes like you, you fuckin’ homo prick!”

“Scares you, hmm?” The hand slid farther up into the superstar’s sweaty young crotch, the nut-filled scrotum forced to drape itself over the back of the fingers.

“Having the head of the Praetorian Guard get you by the balls? You afraid I’m gonna what, Marius, yank ’em all of a sudden, like this?”

YANK!

“AAAAAOOOWWWWRRRGGHHKKK!!” Biff howled, legs trying to bend frog-like at the knees, fingers at the ends of his tied-down hands curling up into helpless fists, white-knuckled. Dex—Tigellinus–had indeed snatched the tender young gonads squirming in their bag, fingers closing down with crushing pressure, jerking the rocks downward with excruciating force. It felt to the captive that they’d literally been ripped out of his groin. “AAHH! AAARRJJJHH!”

The vulnerable pouch was still firmly clasped in the torturer’s hand. “Maybe you were right. Marius,” he said calmly when the screams died away and only the heavy breathing remained. “Maybe you did have good reason to be scared I’d grab you by the balls and make you hurt.”

“N-N-N-OH H H-H—!” Marius (funny, he really was Marius now. not Biff) bucked in his bondage as he felt the sadist begin to torque his fist, wrapping the superstar’s family jewels around each other, and around each other, and around each other, making a spiral of his privates. “AWWWGAAWWWDDD… STOP–!”

“Oh?” Was that what the humpy young stud captive really wanted? “You don’t like having your castanets played with like this?”

“No, man. please.” Barely audible beneath the inhalations as Marius writhed nakedly on the table, sweating, “It hurts.”

“But you love it.” A challenge, denied.

“It hurts.”

“It makes your weenie hard, bitch.” A tilt of the handsome head in the direction of Marius’s uncut fuck stick, definitely going blue-vein if not overly bonerized. Seven inches and counting.

“No…”

A smirk. “Y’ know what I think?” Tigellinus said, the question utterly rhetorical. “I think you’re one’a those guys who likes it rough. Yeah.”

“YYYEEEEAAPPPHHHGGGKKK!!” Another squeeze of the coiled nuts, yanked just as hard if not harder, followed immediately by a punch from above, SPLAT!—at which point the sac was released to spin back to its natural configuration. “Ah! Hah! Harrgghh!*

Tigellinus wasn’t as impressed by the thrashings as Marius undoubtedly hoped he’d be, examining the swollen scrotum with clinical interest, calm. “I just thought of something else you’d like,” he proposed, reaching into the vee of the prisoner’s crotch again, this time to pet the testicles rather than jerk them.

Marius looked down the length of his hard-muscled body, wary. “What’re you gonna do now?” he asked, voice moaning, the pain still radiating up from his balls to his brain.

“I dunno,” the hunky young torturer shrugged as if he were at a loss. “Does this do anything for you?”

YANK!!

Not the sac itself this time. Just some of the hairs, ripped from the corrugating flesh. “YAAAHH!! HHNNNGHHH!” Marius shrieked, trying to thrash, arching his back.

“Apparently it does do something for you,” Tigellinus commented in a level voice, calmly pleased with the results—enough to do it again, this time the fistful of bodyhair torn from that part of the captive’s luxuriant bush which grew in a rampant ring around the circumference of the colossally thick cock-base. Marius rewarded him with another top-of-the-lungs yowl and a new wave of abdominal undulations.

“PUUHHH… LEEEEEZZZZZEEEE…!” he cried in an inhuman voice. “No more, okay? Please—AAAIIEEERRGGGHHHKKK!!”

“No more?” The chief of the guard professed amazement. “Are you going to just lie there and claim you don’t have an unfortunate over-abundance of smelly hair in your crotch and your armpits?” It was, in fact, a new sheaf yanked brutally from one of those underarms which had brought on the renewed bout of vocalized agony. “If I were you, in your position in front of me, Marius, I’d say ‘thank you, Tigellinus’ in as sincere a voice as I could muster.”

Marius told him to go fuck himself instead.

“Aww,” the sadist sighed mockingly, as though he’d actually made an honest attempt to help the prisoner only to be insultingly rebuffed. “And here I thought you didn’t like having your hair pulled out by the roots.”

“EEEEIIIRRRGGHHKKKKK!!” the tied-down hunk bayed as Tigellinus snatched yet another handful of armpit hair, this one from the tender flesh of the blond’s other side… and, simultaneously, drove the index finger of his other hand knuckle-deep into Marius’s unprepared asshole.

It took quite a few seconds for the prone young hunk to realize that he was actually being finger-frigged, that the guy smirking over him had jammed his fucking finger right up into the stinking heat of his cherry anus, penetrating perhaps the single most private part of his hard muscled anatomy.

The thought blew his mind. Being tortured by having his body hair ripped out of his flesh, that he could take because it really didn’t violate his morals or his beliefs, however hypocritically arrived at. A digit screwing into the slimy interior of his virgin bung, shee-itt, no!

He yelled it, afraid as he’d never been afraid before. “Nooohhhh!! Take it out, you freak! You god damm muthafuckin’ faggot freak, nobody diddles with my fuckin’ butt, not even a fuckin’ chick—you hear me? Take your fuckin’ fruit finger out, now, man! Now!”

“It’s impossible not to hear you,” Tigellinus observed, gesturing toward the right-hand man in the squad of Praetorians observing. The designated man stepped forward, resolute in his bristle-topped helmet.

“Centurion Bock, as ordered! Sir!” he said smartly, with military precision.

The captive gawked up at him. “Mike?” The photographer he’d beaten up? The kid whose Nikkon he’d destroyed?

Tigellinus ignored him, addressing the stocky teenaged Praetorian Guard while screwing a second finger into Biff’s yawning shit-chute. “Gag the fucking prisoner, soldier!”

“Sir! Yes, sir!” Bock stepped up to the head of the rack, taking a good-sized young dick out from under and sticking the swelling glans in Marius’ face. “Put this cock in your mouth, bitch, c’mon. Suck this stud meat while you get your ass reamed!”

“Mmmmnngghhppphh,” the captured renegade replied through lips and teeth immediately clenched, tight. “Mnnngghhppphh!”

Mike the Centurion ripped his own handful of handsome blond hair out of Marius’s follicles, off the top of the curly head. The act elicited one hell of an open-mouthed scream, cut off in its prime.

“EEEERRRGGGHHHHH-MMMMPPH-HKK!!” And whether he wanted to or not, the straight young stud stretched balls-naked across the rack suddenly discovered what a hot young teenaged pecker tastes like, right then and there. Bock’s sweaty, precum slick boner was shoved like a hissing snake all the way down into his throat, hardening. The flaring helmet-shaped cock-bulb emerging turtle-like from the thick rolled-back ring of stilton-stinking foreskin was wedged beneath the uvula, stoppering any further protests.

“Prisoner gagged as ordered, sir!” the youngest Praetorian could announce, puffing with pride.

“Good,” his commander acknowledged, pleased as he fingered the mouth-raped captive’s stud-quim: the newcomer, if he kept this up, would definitely be in line for a combat medal. “Fuck the big shot’s face hard, sol-jur. Don’t spare the horses.”

“No sir, no fuckin’ way. Sir.” A big vindictive grin spread like sunshine across Bock’s square-jawed young countenance as his hips began to chug for real. The big smooth-skinned half-moons of his butt picked up speed, crashing into each other across the hairy crack between them as the teenaged stud-fucker thundered brutally forward.

“PPPHHHMMMNNNGGHHHKKK!” Marius heaved, choking, the bristling steel wool coarsely tangled above the Centurion’s upsweeping pile-driver sandpapering his vulnerably rosy lips, a good number of the kinky strands catching between the pearly whites exposed behind and between. “Muh! Mmmnnnfffgghhkk!”

“Take it, traitor,” Mike huffed, sweating as he slammed into Biff’s crowbarred mouth, filling it from tongue to roof with eleven blue-veined inches of hot young man-meat, six inches around and rigidly unforgiving, the big teenaged balls drumming a raunchy tattoo against the star’s squared-off chin. “Take that giant-sized hard-on down your fucking bitch throat, yeah. Slurp that stinkin’ dong, c’mon, cocksucker, do it!”

“MMWWWNNGGKHH!” Marius could only splutter, the foaming bubbles of spit drooling out around the pistoning rod pounding all the way down into his windpipe beginning to cascade over the edge of his jaw, soaking the blond curls framing the top of his spasming pecs. “PPHWHH! FFWWNNNMGGT

Part of the protest was against the soldier’s—the photographer’s?—invading dork and the bleachy taste of the precum leaking with ever-increasing copiousness from the gaping piss-slit in the ever-expanding mushroom crowning the pulsing shaft, but only part. There were in fact now four fingers in Marius’s virgin bull-twat, Tigellinus snarfing as he widened the distance between them side to side, up and down. Pulling the sphincter out of commission.

The squirming, face-fucked stud struggled helplessly on the rack not just because it was the kind of pain in the ass he’d never before experienced, but also to show his ruthless captors that despite their worst (or best!) efforts he wasn’t giving in: he wasn’t admitting defeat no matter how cock-muffled his voice, how rope-burned his wrists and ankles.

“Oh,” said the head of the guards as though he could read Marius’s mind, “this is the easy part, pussy—we haven’t even begun to send you to heaven. But don’t worry, we have lots of time.” The fingers of his free hand pinched the lip of the captive’s overly ripe nipple as he spoke, digging the razor-like edges of his fingernails into the base of the upstanding nub. Drawing a trickle of blood.

Another stifled shriek. “MMMEEEERRGGH-HKKK!!”

Not to linger: Lucillius’s hand was continuing on to the chain, coiled cobra-like on the table next to the rack–stout links of hard iron, the first of which was now immediately shoved through the finger-widened asshole deep into the teen-idol’s unprotected gut. Squish! Plop!

–Ha?

It was cold, the metal, and the fact was that Marius couldn’t even see what it was. His field of vision was entirely limited to the muscular insides of Mike Bock’s hairless upper thighs, the triangular briar patch growing wild in the Praetorian’s fetid spit and lube-smeared crotch, and the bouncing balls wriggling in their pimpled young sac.

What was Tigellinus shoving up his fuckin’ butt, man? Ice?

Snap! Another link swallowed by the gumming ring and, snap! another.

A fourth. A fifth.

A sixth, and several more in seemingly endless number.

“NNNEEEEUGGHHHMMMPPFFFGGHHHKKK!!”

Tigellinus matched the fingernail job on the first of the robust young star’s conical nipples with the same for the second, a new blood-brook immediately coursing from his tormented tit, trickling off the steep pectoral palisade and dripping down the scalloped ribs. And again the hand moved on, the head of the guards leeringly gratified to have such a stuck-up muscle-hunk tied naked at his mercy.

“We’ll leave that fuckin’ chain stuffed up your ass for a while,” he told the cocksucking captive, the groaning young stud—once Biff, now Marius—still to all intents and purposes blinded by Bock’s face-fucking groin. He could only feel the hands of his torturer returning their attention to the golden-haired genitals wide open in front of him: the balls and (this time) the cock, too.

A new yank on the already overly tenderized scrotum, but nowhere near as brutal as before. It felt as though Luciilius, whistling “innocently” (sic!), was wrapping something around the nuts just under the prick-root. A cord, a rope, a length of rawhide laces. Whatever. Biff—Marius—didn’t like it, especially when the sadist looped the length of—wire?—between each ball and then laced the ends together, twisting them tighter and tighter.

And tighter.

“Mmnnooohhh…”

“Shut up and keep sucking dick, cunt,” Mike rasped above him, grunting forward and back as he neared the big bang. The hands of the bulge-armed young photographer were both clasped together at the back of the prisoner’s tousled head, ramming the star’s pretty, pouty baby-face forward around the slick ten-inch thickness of the interloping organ. Bam’ Pow! Smash!

Uh! UH! UNNNGGHHHH! The cock-laces were being wrapped in a crisscross pattern up the length of Marius’s impressively chiseled sex tool. Tigellinus tying the ends off just under the heart-shaped coronal flare. The craftsmanship of his Japanese-style handiwork was as carnal a sight as the Roman Torquemada had ever seen, the craning of his own bobbing cock proving it.

“You’re gonna be amazed,” he said to the boner-choked captive in a low voice thick with saliva-dripping lust— “how much more sexy the head of your prick is when a tough bunch of big mean muthafuckas like us get the shaft all wrapped up like this.”

The ball of his thumb was already at work, moving with teasingly gentle strokes around the all-too-vulnerable crown in diabolical little circles. Even with Bock’s prong beating time in his mouth, Marius reacted as though zapped, the sinewy limbs of his twitching body going stiff just as his prick was going stiff, the unblemished epidermis bronzed on his perfectly proportioned young body goose-pimpling within the space of a split-second.

“Unnhhh…” And then, softer: “nnoooohhhhh…”

“’Nnoooohhhhh,’ my ass,” the Praetorian chief preened, knowing that he was breaking through the last barrier to the straight stud’s libido, the evidence right there in his hand. “You’re gettin’ hard, baby. You’re throwin’ one hell of a fuckin’ boner. Aintcha.”

His insidious thumb continued to spiral, leasing the precum out of the now-yawning pee-hole and spreading it like melted butter over the ballooning bulb.

“MMMNNNUUUHHH,” the hunky young rape victim moaned in desperate denial… but his hips were starting to churn whether he knew it or not, and the smooth-skinned globes of his ass, too. The balls so cruelly separated in their corrugating bag were rising and reddening with unbidden lust, a new surge of sex-blood rushing into his expanding sausage.

“Y’ know,” Tigellinus was willing to bet, “I think Marius’s fuckstick is gonna shoot a load’a hot stud-cum even before the Centurion’s does.”

“Hhhhmmmnnngghh,* Marius replied, Mike above him shrugging.

“Are we in a race?” he asked his commander. “Sir?”

“Not if you want your superior officer to win the bet,” he was informed, the head of the guards increasing the pressure of his thumb against the purpling flesh of the captive’s cock-crown, the sensation driving the homophobic hunk crazy on the rack. Thud! Thud! His hips ground his ass into the wood. Thud! Thud! Thud!

THUD!!

A new splutter erupted from his face as his entire 210-pound physique strained upward against his will, the fingers and toes splayed at the end of each limb. Veins popped beneath the stretch of the skin all over Biff’s magnificent teenybopper-worshipped body, the eyes bulging like billiard balls in his head. “EEEEYY-YYYYGGGGHHHKKK!” he screamed, cock or no cock in his mouth. Allnuts’ hard-muscled body arched, the nuts bracketing his hairy cock-root all set to open fire.

“As I predicted,” Tigellinus gloated, watching vindicated as he suddenly with no warning ripped the chain out of Marius’s obscenely dilated rectum. Link after link after ass-warmed link was wrenched back out into the open like the cord on a lawn mower even as the sadist’s squeezing fingers simultaneously helped his helpless foe empty his laced-up balls. The yowling hunk blasted: gigantic wads of hot nut-oil geysering high up into the air.

“Lookit that fucker shoot them stinkin’ cum clams,” one of the other Praetorians exclaimed from the anonymity of the darkness at the side of the stone-walled cell, macho baritone filled with salacious awe. “Man oh man, didja ever see such a fuckin’ big load’a slime!”

The stench of fresh jizz was too much for Centurion Bock. The teenaged male rapist could hold back no longer, his own orgasm propelling his hips forward. He crushed his funky young pubic bush flat against Marius’s muzzle, copious jets of pearly boy-juice spraying out of the machine-gunning prick-nozzle. Mucousy globs and slugs splattered against the back of the captive’s well-dicked throat, the rubbery ropes spilling down into Biff’s heaving belly—enough to force a flood of excess ejaculate snot-like out of his irising nostrils.

Six, eight, ten, fifteen shots—only then did the youthful rod soften. It was withdrawn, splat, slimy with an evil mixture of spit and spunk, Mike breathing like a wheezing steam engine. Looking as though he might collapse, completely drained.

“Wow,” he could only whisper, staggering as the last dregs dribbled web-like from his winking pee-hole. “Oh fucking wow. What a blow-job. This bitch gives fuckin’ great head, I fuckin’ mean it, guys, he’s a born cocksucker. Wow.”

The born cocksucker was trying to upchuck the load in his stomach, dry-heaving. The expression of humiliated chagrin etched on the handsome teen-idol features made Biff, in pummel-faced defeat, look even sexier than in his last bare-chested Teen Beat center-fold. “Blaugh,” he shuddered, convulsing. Spasming. “Blaugh.”

“Like it that much, huh?” Tigellinus’d thought he might, let Marius say what he would. “That’s why I got more for you right here, queer. Look.”

The palm of his hand was brought forward, filled with a quivering puddle of Biff’s own scum the consistency of pudding, the color of mother-of-pearl.

It was hard to shrink away when there was the wood of a rack beneath your back and the hands were fixed above you at the wrists (not to mention the feet below at the ankles). Marius tried to turn his head. but Mike grabbed it and held it steady against the surface beneath while two of the other “sol-jurs” of Rome rushed forward to dig their filthy cock-priming fingers into the hinges of the captive’s classically squared-off jaw and the corners of his mouth. His crud-leaking nose was clamped shut, tight. Breathless.

The spluttering prisoner had no choice: his mouth snapped open with a sob and Tigellinus, giggling maniacally, poured the gooey curds of Biff’s own hot sperm down into his gullet. Splash. Splat.

Glug!

The Adam’s Apple yoyo’d in his neck. Gulp!

His palm emptied, the Praetorian leader could now “brush” Marius’s teeth with his fingers. One-two-three and four digits were roughly sawed back and forth across the gleaming enamel dental hygienist-fresh beneath the younger stud’s ruby lips, rasping as the tormented captive groaned helplessly, looking nauseated. All four of the members were still liberally coated with the smelly essence from Marius’s own ass, adulterated when they were initially thrust through the little pink button hidden in the hairs growing wild in the crack between the downy buttchecks.

“Disgusting, right?” Tigellinus’s voice was taunting. “Makes y’ wanna barf, right? Big-shot?”

“You bastard,” Allnuts moaned, his tongue trying to scrape his teeth. “You sick fag bastard.”

“Then how come your dick not only stayed hard while you came, bitch, but stayed hard while you drank Mike’s spunk—and your own? Man, you even kept that fuckin’ boner goin’ just now while I had you clean the crud off’a my fuckin’ smelly fingers.” The head Praetorian clawed at the corded root of Marius’s macramae’d meat, wagging the vein-etched column like an immense pornographic baton. Spidery ropes of precum danced off the well-lubed mushroom like the translucent sugar plum fairies in Disney’s Fantasia.

“You got me all fucked up, is why,” the strapping young captive retorted, miserable. Confused. Dammit, a straight cunt-happy all-American like Big Biff Allnuts shouldn’t have thrown a boner no matter what any bunch of disgusting fag assholes did to him!

And yet—and yet!—there it was, the traitorous ten-inch piece of bobbing man-meat, rising up like a fuckin’ flagpole; looking like a goddam rocket on the fuckin’ launch pad. Try as hard as Biff would, shee- itt: the damn thing just wouldn’t go soft!

The fact was that Dex—Tigellinus—was right: Marius had been made to feel hornier than ever before in all his fucking life. He was all too close to losing yet another hot load of his own boiling sperm. And he damn well knew that his captors were going to prove that, for all his heterosexual protestations, he was just another fucking pussy-boy, after al!—hell, Dex was gonna make him blow that new cum-wad right then and there, no matter how much he groaned and went ‘awww gaaawwwd, nooohhh.”

The lusty young Praetorian’s cum-stinking hands were already back, working Marius’s priapic peckerhead, leasing it and feeling it up. Pinching it, stroking it. Tickling it, and the ultra-sensitive underside of his nut sac, too.

Once again the handsomely muscular young captive had no alternative: he began to huff and moan in the tightly knotted captivity of his bonds, tits pebbling. Sweat beading. The stench of his raunchy armpits and raunchier crotch permeated the air, drawing the other virile, hard-donged guards in a narrowing circle around him. Every last stud was salivating, each of their minds filled with endlessly wanton thoughts: the lurid obscenities the helpless young celebrity would be made to perform for the pleasure of their own undulating stud physiques.

“Haaahhh-h-h…”

Their titillating fingertips had begun to brush the naked undersides of his flexing biceps, tracing circles around his proudly puckering nipples, doing wickedly nasty things to his kneecaps and the soles of his naked feet. One of them stuck a spit-slick tongue in his ear, sloshing it around the crevice-like whorls. Another played with the sides of his ribcage, and yet another with the vee’d-out gullies between his lushly haired pubic triangle. The tops of his thighs.

Someone suddenly Frenched him, the tongue raping his mouth, the roof tingling. “Mfffhh,” Marius could only murmur, responding despite himself. Reveling in the mindless sensuality of the attack. Shit, now someone was even tickling his butt-hole—or was the big muscle-bound pervert actually licking it? Lapping the tip of his evil young tongue back and forth across the tiny opening and making it flutter.

How could his dick not go hard once all this good hot man-to-man stuff was inflicted upon his quivering body, one side of his mesmerized brain whispered traitorously, loving it even though the other side knew he was supposed to find it utterly disgusting. But, oh, fuck, man, the slurping tongue in his ear, thrilling as it was, was nothing compared to the slurping tongue now penetrating his widened, finger-raped ass. Darting smooth as silk through the spasming sphincter. Sending chills throughout his entire hot-wired system.

“Awwwhhh,” Biff husked, relaxing… relaxing… going limp and letting them have their lasciviously carnal way with him. It fell too good to fight anymore: even the hard bullet-headed prick replacing the tongue in his drippy rectum fell good sliding in so easily, sooohhh fuckin’ easily. Six inches, seven, nine…

…Twelve…

So what if they had his naked jock body lying there bent-kneed, doubled over at the washboard of his furrowed waist like some two-bit slut whore. So what if he was getting star-fucked up the bull-snatch by the prime Praetorian while the rest of this hip-churning stud’s rambunctious young squad watched, cheering their chief on with the coarsest, most vulgar of low-down Anglo-Saxon advice and incitements. So what if the oversexed dude’d just stolen his bung-hole cherry once and for all.

So fuckin’ what if someone else was bracketing Biffs tousle-haired head with a new pair of powerhouse thighs, aiming the most rigid dork yet at the sensuous opening beneath the cute upturned nose of his famous baby face?

So fuckin’ what if he opened his mouth to receive the vile offering, his tongue wrapping itself against the swollen bulb and the shaft urging it forward, tasting the funky tang of manly young athlete. The fact was that it felt kind’a… right… in there. The gnarly velcro of the unidentified young Praetorian’s pubic brillo was reassuringly bristly above the thrusting penis, the ripeness of its aroma like an aphrodisiac to the renewed flare of Biffs nostrils.

“Mmmmnnn,” he murmured, feasting on the enormous gristle hardened tube steak. Stretching his tongue all the way to make sure the big balls in the bag beneath did not go unspitted. Huge lip-smacking slurps crackled through the air, the handsome young teen-idol’s head bobbing even as the ridges of his belly compressed accordion-like with each new cock-stroke Tigellinus sent crashing deep down into his wide open quim.

His own poling prick felt as though it was mere moments away from the cum of his young life, Mike observing on the sidelines now eager to point the fact out to one and all. “The sonofabitch’s gonna blast again,” he could confidently predict, sniggering. “I mean it. guys. Any second now.”

The tight-bodied young photographer grinned and slapped Tigellinus a playful little slap on the nearest of his churning asscheeks as the Praetorian leader humped violently into Biff’s upended crack.

“You were right, man, this’s what he wanted all along.”

“‘He who doth protest too much,’ yeah,” Dex agreed, slamming forward with all his might. Grunting. Withdrawing almost all the way out only to slam forward again, harder, with more force and torque. He buried his pistoning cunt-wrecker in to the fucking hilt and ground it around in widening circles and figure-eights. Used it as a crowbar, making sure that each new stroke struck Marius’s joy-spot dead-on: Dex wasn’t going to blow his wad until he fuckin’ forced Biff to shoot his own second load first.

“C’mon, baby-face,” he urged in a low snarl thick with contempt as he screwed energetically into the victim’s bum, humping over the magnificent young stud physique to lap at the upstanding young boy-tits and make them shine. “Let it out like y’ know y’ wanna, c’mon. Show me how a big star shoots his nut, yeah, do it. Now—!”

Biff’s face screwed up around the prick he was now gobbling like a real pro, little huffs and puffs whistling out of his cock-occupied throat. “Uh!” he gasped. “Uh! Uh! UHHHH—!”

“That’s it, bitch,” Tigellinus hissed, grunting as he worked his stone-solid prong even deeper in the prisoner’s man-twat. “Let it blow, c’mon.” He squeezed the hot shaft of the star’s raging dickhead, lugging at it, fisting the tied-up pole. “Yeah…”

“AAAAAAWWWNNNNGGHHHHKKKK!!” Allnuts wheezed, arching bridge-like once more. Every muscle etched beneath the stretch of his bronzed skin, his balls practically disappearing into his pelvic girdle, swallowed by the wavy welter of stinking crotch hair. His prick couldn’t hold back any longer, the expert jerking off from both the inside and the out bringing him to an absolutely once-in-a-lifetime peak. “E-E-E-ERRGGGHHH-HKKKK—!!”

“Sperm-bombs over ancient Rome,” Bock whooped, high-fiving his Praetorian buddies as the tied-up young superstar let it fly: a seemingly endless spray of hot balljuice jetting like pee from his hose—more volume-wise than his first cum, earlier. “Duck!”

There was actually no real need for any of the hard-muscled squad surrounding the creaking rack to duck: the splatters of jizz flew directly out of the cannonading faucet straight down into Biff’s own mouth. His feet had been cut from the ropes which till now had held them fast, it seems, his ass-fucked stud physique bent over in a legs-above-the-head position as Tigellinus’s raping hard-on pummeled his squishy shitter. Suppelly muscled as the hero was, it was no real trick to get his fucked-up body to suck his own craning, laced-up cock—

—And now he was being voluminously rewarded with the slimy fruits of his auto-erotic labors, yelling uncontrollably with each new gism-ejaculating spasm. The eyes were going crazy in his head, rolling and spiraling as he drank slug after slug of his own new cum-load and licked whatever excess might have splashed onto his checks.

Not missing a drop.

It was time for Dex to fill the fucker’s ass with more hot Praetorian spunk… and fill it Dex did. His own bounteous overflow backwashed out the cock-stuffed bull-cunt, scumming up Marius’s balls and the splayed insides of his captive thighs. So much cum flooded out of all four of their bluing balls that almost five entire minutes had to go by before the post-priapic heaving finally died away and the sound of regular breathing could once again be heard. Tigellinus stood there drained, shaking his head in awe.

“So much jizz,” he whispered, wrinkling his nose. “What a fuckin’ mess!”

But that was okay: Marius could be hosed down with five to eight separate streams of foaming yellow piss and then the other Praetorians could get to fuck him, too, ass and mouth. He said “wha?” of course, horrified—

—And then not-so-horrified, the words tumbling out of his cock-battered larynx sure sounding like “harder, man, fuck me harder! C’mon, I need t’ get raped, c’mon! I’m a fuckin’ bad-assed sonofabitch homo-hater and I need t’ be shown what it’s like t’ take a bunch’a hot stud pricks up my fuckin’ cherry ass, yeah. Do me! Fuck me! Make me scream. Make me cum!”

They were, of course, more than willing to comply with all the requests for their services, free of charge.