Beach



Contents TOC \h \u \z 1Beach PAGEREF _Toc25998349 \h 22Mission PAGEREF _Toc25998350 \h 53Unbeatable abs PAGEREF _Toc25998351 \h 84Questioning under duress PAGEREF _Toc25998352 \h 115Noises PAGEREF _Toc25998353 \h 146Weak PAGEREF _Toc25998354 \h 177On camera PAGEREF _Toc25998355 \h 208After-care PAGEREF _Toc25998356 \h 229Prime beef for sale PAGEREF _Toc25998357 \h 2510Under offer PAGEREF _Toc25998358 \h 2911Proof of the pudding …. PAGEREF _Toc25998359 \h 3312Say Cheese PAGEREF _Toc25998360 \h 3513Smile! PAGEREF _Toc25998361 \h 3814Frustrations PAGEREF _Toc25998362 \h 4115Opportunity PAGEREF _Toc25998363 \h 4416Way-out PAGEREF _Toc25998364 \h 46Scott Oldham modelled by Igor JetvicBeachThe voice was not far away. But then both sides knew exactly where the others were standing."Hassan. I'm counting down from ten. If they haven't appeared from behind that boulder by zero … lob that grenade over the rock."Harrington looked at Oldham. They had no way of knowing whether it was a bluff. But from what they'd seen, these pirates had plenty of firepower. As proof, they had two buddies dead on the sand .. cut to pieces by semi-automatics. By the time the voice had got to five, Scott called it a day."Coming out!"The instructions were instant .. like the voice had been sure they had no choice."Hands straight up above your heads. Guns in the left hand."Scott and Harrington did was told. Stepping out with hands up from behind the giant rock on the beach that had kept them alive. Stepping out from the cover could have them shot to pieces. But …..? Scott glanced at his two buddies dead on the beach .. bleeding into the sand.Powerful hand-held flashlights blinded them through the dark."Throw the guns to us."No choice. They couldn't see how many there were. But two dead friends was enough evidence of intent."Step backwards. Hands where I can see them. Back towards the ocean."Scott was vaguely aware through the blinding lights of shadows picking up their guns. When the pair felt waves on their feet, they were ordered to stop."Hands behind head. On your knees."The pair stood kneeling upright as a pair of the pirate thugs rushed behind and ziptied their hands. Trapped in the small of their backs. When their formidable muscle power was safely secured, the body that went with the voice approached. He was silhouetted by the flashlights behind. But around the white tank top, Scott saw broad muscular shoulders. He carried himself with the pose of a guy whose physique made men look. As good as Scott Oldham himself."Who's behind all this?"The pair of them were going to say nothing."Those inflatables .. the ship out there .. picking up the scum you've rescued .. who's paying for this?"The pair didn't even flinch. They just looked up at the silhouetted face."Who's your guy on the inside? Organising the groups?"The guy should have known better than to ask.He did. The muscular shoulders on the silhouette shrugged."Everyone's got his breaking point."Scott had sensed rather than seen the guy's eyes appraising them. To help the people fleeing into the inflatables, Scott's crew had been in just swim trunks. Hiding nothing to a trained eye. One bodybuilder recognised another's strengths. The pair cuffed on this beach in the dark .. ambushed after rescuing over thirty people from trafficking .. the way they looked .. Scott and Harrington weren't just some run-off-the-mill human-rights activists saving the innocent from slavery.He'd guessed right. The voice had worked out he had a couple of exceptional tough-heads on his hands."You'll break. Even hard-nuts like you. You'll talk. Just a matter of how much you wanna take first"Spoken with the confidence of a guy who'd done this kind of thing before."Bring 'em."MissionWhen things went tits-up, Oldham wasn't that surprised. The whole shebang had stank of last minute planning .. thrown together with not enough thought. Like why were THEY here? This didn’t need men with skills like theirs. Oldham had been in enough balls-ups in his career .. forced to think on your feet .. fight your way out of someone else's cock-up. You got to recognise the signs. A second sight for the disaster coming. He'd been right. But he hadn't planned on losing two good buddies to some asshole's mistakes.After a bouncy ride on the floor of some beaten up truck, they'd been bundled into separate cells, Harrington and him. Heavy duty metal doors, probably holding cells for a bunch of guys they were trafficking. The pirates hadn't bothered removing the cuffs either, still hands tied behind backs for the night. Oldham's pair of goons had put down a bowl of water for him. A couple of bananas were thrown at him as he shucked himself down into the corner. They waited. Oldham waited. He was thirsty, like hell could he do with a drink. But he wasn't going to give these pricks the satisfaction. They’d wait till kingdom-come before he ….. And they did wait, grinning. They waited still longer .. winking at each other in anticipation. Willing him to go down on his knees. Itching for the impressive muscled white-guy in just swim shorts to go down and lap up water like the dog they thought he was. Oldham's patience lasted longer. They goaded him with this muscle hunk getting himself captured. They laughed at his stupidity for getting caught. And what they were gonna do to him. They entertained themselves .. taunting him with games they would play on the muscle-head once they'd got the "tools" ready. But Oldham knew they were awaiting for him to give in to his thirst. Out to laugh at him when he humiliated himself.He was finally rescued by a call from outside. Oldham recognised the voice of their boss .. the one from the beach with the white tank top. Bad-tempered he was shouting at them to "get their asses out here". They were disappointed, they hadn’t got their lap-dog to laugh at. But somehow Oldham suspected they'd find plenty of chances to humiliate him. They'd be only too eager to make up for the lost opportunity.He’d come across pirates before. In his time in Somalia. Desperate men, born into destitution. Piracy was their one-and-only chance of clawing their way out. They were led by warlords, coldblooded thugs usually. And that culture of thuggery went all the way down. The poverty-stricken goons with families dependent on them .. they saw this as their one chance in life. Get in their way, foil their plans …. You’d ruined their lives. Get caught for doing that …. It went without saying …. Don’t expect a sympathetic ear. And Scott Oldham had just fucked up on both counts.The light went out. Saved from humiliation, bathed in blackness. Oldham thought he could hear the pair chortling outside. Parched, he scrabbled around in the dark on his knees. He nearly up-ended the precious water in his fumbling around. He'd lapped up water like this before, he'd drank out of shallow streams. Not the first time some thug had tried to undermine his sense of self-worth .. treating him like he was an animal.Harrington was somewhere, maybe also alone in the next cell .. left alone with thoughts of the interrogations to come ….. Of course, this rescue op had an insider helping. Knowing that name would put the lid of any further rescue attempts .. ;eaking the precious cargo they were trafficking. As well as the satisfaction of brutally dealing with the snake in the grass. Getting that name would be vital. The interrogations wouldn't be mild.Harrington too would be steeling himself for hours of rough treatment. Was he too struggling to eat bananas with their skins on? No hands. Knowing he’d need all the reserves he could call on. At first Scott had tried to mangle a chunk in his mouth and spit the skin out. Soon his chest was splattered with chewed skin and ran tacky with his saliva. It dried sticky and uncomfortable in his chest in the sweltering heat of this windowless cell.Fuck it, he mangled the whole lot up, swallowed the banana skin-and-all. There had to be some nutrition in banana skins. And Scott couldn't know where his next meal would come from. He'd need his strength. Unbeatable absOldham winced. Harrington erupted in another loud explosive cry. The pain in his gut burst in a rush of pained wind from his throat. Oldham clenched his fists in anger. And trepidation. For this to be happening Harrington had to be hurting. Hurting really bad. Harrington was a fanatic about his abs. He worked them like a fiend. Oldham had often been astonished at how punishingly hard Harrington would work them. The toughest that sweat, pain and dedication could buy him, Harrington had joked.It hadn't made sense for them to be sent on such a mission. Men of exceptional skill and a track record like them .. Scott was first class sniper, his kill-rate exceptional .. the skill of Harrington, he could garrotte a guy in the blink of an eye. So why THEM? Why were they being used to rescue Africans from traffickers? Guys with less distinctive skill-sets could do it just as well. More to this than met the eye, there had to be. But they WERE here, things had gone tits-up. And they were about to get done-over for the name of some guy they'd barely met.Oldham's whole torso have a lurch at the next thud into Harrington's abs. Shocked at the sharp pain of his buddy's grunt. Scott jumped so much that his own minders thought he was going to intervene. They dug their fingers into his tension-taut biceps, holding him back. Harrington didn't stand a chance. They'd been working him over for some time .. judging by the ugly crimson colouration in his abs. Now the bastards stretched him to his toes .. reducing his power to flex and defend. And still they were giving his guts hell of a battering. They must have been doing Harrington over for some time before they'd hauled Oldham from his cell to watch. Already Oldham had spotted Harrington could make no offer to tighten and fend off each punch. The fucker dishing it out had reduced those phenomenal belly muscles to useless mush. And Oldham had had to watch his buddy take another painful half-dozen since then.The fucker giving it to Harrington .. physically he wasn't much to write home about. If he'd not had Scott's buddy tied with his arms above his head, Harrington would have eaten him for breakfast. More brawn than muscled. But he did know about using his fists. From his stance .. the way he threw a punch .. he'd been trained to box. He leaned his shoulders into every punch. He gave his full weight behind it. Plus the fact that Oldham had spotted the gleam of metal sparkling off his fist, that gave his fists added weight. The fucker was thudding into Harrington’ with knuckle rings on. No wonder Harrington just hung and twisted as a useless punch bag. The fucker throwing his weight behind his fists had spied what he was up against. Harrington’s attitude .. his muscular bulk .. the incredible definition in his stomach. The bastard had chosen the easy route. To cut down on the effort, he'd slipped his metal friends over his fingers and banged the hell out of Harrington's unbeatable abs."You lot hanging around there gawping all day?"From the another doorway in this room, the muscle-head popped his head out. The guy Oldham had labelled Tank-top .. who'd led the raiding party to the beach and had brought the pair of them in. It was him snapping bad-temperedly at his men. "Get the-fuck-a-move-on. Get his fucking ass in here!"Questioning under duressThey’d improvised. They'd wired some rusty chain-link fencing to an old iron bedstead. Stood up leaning against the wall. A truck battery was going to provide the juice. When Oldham saw what they had in mind, he gave them hell. He shrugged off the grips on his rock-hard guns and lashed out. They returned the favour. Obviously that goon who’d been giving Harrington’s abs the works .. he didn’t have the only set of knuckle rings. Oldham was slammed up against a wall, held firm. And the goon unloaded all he had into Oldham’s guts.Still gasping for air, the pair of goons who been holding him as the wind was punched out of his abs .. they hauled him across the room, slung his back into the bedstead. Knuckle-ring-guy quickly held Scott back with a chokehold on his throat and slammed another pair of punches into his navel.Before he had any chance to get his second wind, Oldham was fastened at wrists and ankles to the grating .. his back forced backwards against the wire by the bedstead leaning to the wall. Improvised. But effective for all that!"Go get fucked!"Scott snarled at his interrogator. But he kept a wary eye on the goon holding the clamp just above the bedstead. One of the thugs whom Oldham had disappointed .. not humiliating himself with lapping water up like a dog. That fucker had got himself the job. Holding the booster cable. Doing the works.The clamp made contact. Scott yelled. Pain sizzled like a hot lance down his backbone. Sharp shocks juddered down his muscled thighs. Blasted out of his feet. In wave after wave of breathtaking shocks. On, off .. on, off with the contact. Scott bawled. Head back, teeth clenched. His body snapped back into an arc, his hips jerked forward. His whole torso rigid, off the grating. Shuddering. Mouth gasped open in a soundless roar.The clamp released him. His body slumped. He bawled out. His legs collapsed, writhing, twisting, head thrashing from side to side."FUUUCK you!"Scott yelled back his response. The thug with the cable snorted back."You're the fucker that's fucked."Scott never heard his sneer. The clamp touched. Pain yanked Scott's arms straight .. yanking his back up the grating. Bulging shoulders taut with screaming pain. Neck turned rigid into steel. Veins popping on the skin. It was a short jab, a quick touch to the bedstead. But then another, held on. Yellow-red lightning claps burst in Oldham's head. Sounds of his own agony ripped through his ears.The shock had hit him so hard .. it was more than painful. Coming on quick after the first, it was body-breaking. Pain threw him upwards, hands clutched into tight bunches of agony .. clutching for sanity. Head thrown dangerously back against the grating, Scott hung off his wrists .. torso rocking, gasping for breath. For a second he thought he might throw up. Dizzying pains. A shock so intense that agony had jammed tight his throat. He heaved in air. Sweat ran down his face."Just a name!"The interrogator was standing next to him. But Scott had no sense of the man. Just a dismembered voice. Already he ran with sweat. Their equipment was primitive. Only a truck battery and the leads. No refinement, no adjustment. Just a thug who held Scott in agony as long as he wanted. Scary. Easy to make a mistake. Easy for the vengeful fucker to go too far."What's the guy to you?"Indeed. What was that insider to Scott? Give them just one name and this torture was over. Followed by a quick shot in the neck. Thrown in the ocean to feed the sharks. The guy’s name, that didn’t count. What DID count .... What DID matter ….. It was these thugs that mattered. The sneering goon getting his own back because he couldn't humiliate Oldham with the water bowl. The motherfucker-in-charge .. in his sweat-stained white tank-top .. the prick who thought he could torture Scott at will. Just to get a name. THEY mattered to Oldham. Fuck 'em. They'd get nothing out of him!Touch! The spiteful fucker with the clamp made contact. Scott screamed. Still fighting for breath, every bit of wind was punched out of him. The goon lifted his hand up, contact broken. Scott collapsed. His back smacked down violently onto the metal grating. The wind knocked out of his body. Contact again. The electrode touched again. This time longer. Scott screamed out. A red mist of torture blurred his vision. The mist growing. Billowing. Fanned into flames. Exploding in Scott's head. He screamed out. A long rasping scream.NoisesOldham came-to once again. Back in his cell still. This time when he came-to, the lights were on. But still the torture of his body racked with pains persisted. Every muscle ached. Breathing hurt like crazy. With light, he could see how his twisting on the grating had chaffed ugly at his wrists. His throat stung red-raw .. he'd screamed himself hoarse. His shoulder joints were on fire .. from the yanking and gyrating to break free. The equipment these goons had thrown together had no refinements, little control. It had really taken a lot out of him. Muscles in his shoulders were knotted like steel coil .. ached like hell. His backbone was sore .. thwacked and battered against the rusty wire repeatedly. He lay on the floor lifeless .. winded like he had gone a dozen rounds in a fight cage with a gorilla. All of him had taken body-crunching hits. That session with the crude equipment they'd cobbled together .. it had given his muscular body and his steel-hard will a real killer workout. He felt shattered.Earlier it had been dark when he'd come round, lights off. It couldn't have been long after .. heavy drops of tortured sweat still ran down his face. In the blackness, his hands had swiped the viscous glean of torture down his chest .. wiping his sweaty hands on his bare muscular thighs. He hated electro torture above all others. What had he had to fight back with?. Blasted out of his mind .. he couldn't even find any fightback from his hatred for these goons. Now he wanted to kill. Simply that. Now he knew he'd go for them, given the chance. But when those shocks were swamping his body .. body erupting in screeching pain, crippling blasts exploding in his brain .. he'd had nothing to fight back with.Earlier, in that darkness, he'd managed with effort to haul himself to his feet .. using hands to climb up the wall. Incredible weakness, taking superhuman effort. But Scott had known he needed to test his strength. He had to know what he’d still got in him. Bad news. Just getting to his feet left him breathless. They'd knocked the wind out of him with their improvised get-up. Breathing deep, hands needed on the wall for support, his head span. His legs .. muscular, reliable, they'd never let him down .. they wobbled under him. Quickly he'd dropped his hands to his knees, bent over .. breathing in hard .. his upper body rocking to the rhythm of his tortured breath. They'd really taken it out of him. Scott praised himself that he'd not given up that name …. Or at least he thought he hadn't ….. In the shrieking horrors of that rusty bedstead .. who really knew? But he was worryingly weak. He'd need to get his strength back up. But the thugs knew better than that. The door clattered open. The same pair of goons was on him before he knew. Roughly a bucket of stinking water was splashed in his face .. blinding him. He swallowed water. He gagged, shocked. Caught unawares, slower to react than normal, he was savagely kicked over into his front .. incapacitated as he coughed up his guts. Later he appreciated how that attack proved how worryingly weak he was. They'd incapacitated him before he knew what was up. On his front, roughly his wrists were duct-taped in his back. Oddly a solid headset was clamped to his ears. Duct tape passed around his streaming eyes, blinding him. Confused, not aware why they duct-taped over the headset, the tape clamped them to his ears.They’d gone. At least, he thought they had. The door had clattered to. He couldn’t see. Just heard the goons guffawing as they left. On his front, hands tied up, Logan struggled himself onto his side. Furious, exhausted, pissed off …. he tried to wriggle up a leg .. gonna stand, gonna stand up. Gonna stand up to these pricks.Then they turned it on. Loud piercing sounds. Blasted out of the headset. Blasted into his ears. Blasted into his brain. High pitched screaming noise .. blue-toothed piercing his brain apart. A razor sharp lance of white noise jabbed through his head. Abandoned, again alone in his cell .. lying in a pool of water. Blindfolded. Screeching noise shrieking into his ears. Like a stiletto pierced through his ears, stabbed into his brain. His eyes under the tape running with tears from the din. Writhing, squirming, fighting to get the damned thing off. Thrashing around to stop that shrieking in his head. Hopeless. ANYTHING to stop that racket. Helpless. Tortured by the jangling shrieks of countless banshees filling his mind. Tortured, brain-torture. For endless hours blasted by screeching noises detonating in his head.WeakThey could do what they fucking wanted with him. Just turn the fucking noise off! Oldham was going out of his wits. That noise! That fucking noise! Blasting into his ears. Screeching loud. On-and-on. It was driving him mad!He'd tried everything. He'd even tried bashing the back of his head against the wall. In desperation, he'd nearly knocked himself out. He'd do anything to stop that fucking noise! He had a splitting headache. Whether from bashing his brains out trying to break the headset … Or from the din bashing his brains out .. it didn't matter! Just stop that fucking noise!He'd not heard the goons came back in the room. He'd jumped when sweaty hands grabbed his upper arms. Instinctively he'd tried to fight them off. Insistent fingernails dug into the hardness of his biceps and started dragging him off.Suspended off his arms, feet dragging behind, Scott couldn't fight them off. Not that his body lacked the muscle strength. That noise had completely incapacitated him. His whole body felt like he'd been pounded in a fight by a posse of a dozen guys. All at once. Beaten out of his skin. Battered out of his wits. Weak as a fucking kitten! His nerves were completely shattered. The battering his tough being had taken .. unbelievable .…. That noise could do that to a physique like his! Dragged, taken for more" interrogation", Scott couldn't find the strength to fight these fuckers back.He'd tried mind-over-matter. He'd tried mind-control to get himself back in charge. When he saw the risk that he was going out of his head with this shattering of his nerves .. he rationalised, he told himself it was only white noise. He'd told himself to calm down. He'd taken deep controlling breaths. He'd made himself faze the din out. He'd tried replacing the meaningless ear-shattering hissing noise with tunes of his own. NOTHING FUCKING WORKED.He'd writhed in agony on the floor. Frustrated in every cell of his body. He'd tried like crazy to break the duct tape on his wrists. He'd scraped the back of his head against the wall. Anything to try and get that fucking headset off his ears. Going out of his mind. Anything to stop that screeching white noise blasting in his head. NOTHING FUCKING WORKED. He was losing his mind!The goons had dragged him blindfolded along to somewhere and dumped him on the floor. He didn't resist, he didn’t fight them back. He just wanted it stopped. They could do anything with him. Any fucking torture. Just make the noise stop. Just get that headset off! A knife was cutting at the duct tape on his wrists. Oldham held himself ready, every muscle alert. Still that fucking noise was bashing his brains out. The moment his hands were free ….. He'd go for it. He'd prise the headset off.A fist punched him in the back of the neck. Hard. They'd anticipated him. The tension in his knotted shoulders had given him away. A stupid mistake, he’d betrayed himself. Showed how he wasn’t himself! Another hard stunning punch into his neck. Knocking him near-senseless. By the time he'd managed to fight his way through the blackness and the screeching noise, hard plastic was digging into his wrists. He was slumped off his hands fastened to a ring above his head, knees weak. The whole lot his bodyweight digging into his wrists. But he hadn't the strength to stand. Still it screeched at him!On cameraA punch blasted into his abs. Oldham pounded all the wind out of his lungs. The gag was gone. He yelled. The headset was gone. Through bleary eyes he could see the blindfold had been torn away. How .. When .. had they done that? No idea. But he was still left with a searing ringing in his ears. He’d not seen, he’d not heard the punch coming. Fuck, he was slow.Totally unprepared Oldham took another blast into his belly. Little flexing in time, little fending off the force. He took the full impact. Hard. Punched out of his skin. Fist backed up with steel protectors. He sagged, uncontrollable. Taking yet another punch to his abs that had Oldham shaking off his overhead wrists. He was heaving in air, noisy .. like amplified with the ringing in his ears. Scott was gasping for breath. Someone had grabbed his hair from behind, yanking his head up. He was looking into the lens of a cell phone. What the fuck ….! His eyes ran. He shook his head again to clear his sight. Instantly his head exploded. He winced, a pained grimace clawed across his face. A cell phone. The fuckers were filming him. Did they want to keep seeing it over-and-over again? The fuckers! Filming him at his weakest. Get a good laugh at his expense. What the fuck! Oldham saw his Musclehead talking to him. Tank-top’s mouth opening, lips moving. But Scott couldn't hear a word. The punching seemed to have set the ringing in his ears off again. Everything Tank-top said was drowned out by the piercing sounds still ringing in his head. Probably just the same fucking same-old-same. Name! Give us the name!Oldham couldn't if he'd wanted. He couldn't do a fucking thing. Just hung with his knees broken under him. His ripped body defined in every taut muscle. Helpless. Abs burning. He remembered Harrington’s unbeatable abs being pounded to mush. Now they had got to Oldham too? A zombie. Broken. Tough-ass Scott Oldham broken by sounds from a headset pounding his ears.He watched Tank-top's lips move like it was nothing to do with him. He saw his eyebrows raised, asking him a question. But Scott never heard a word. What had this guy's questions got to do with him? On another planet.The musclehead shrugged. Like in another dimension, his face was quickly replaced by a blur. And then another crippling thud into his abs. Oldham bawled. The force swung him back. Pain burst from his eyes. His reactions slowed down. Taking another body-breaking fist that blasted his innards apart.After-careTank-top took Oldham by the chin and raised his face to his own. Oldham hated that the moment coincided with a sharp jab deep in his guts .. first thing Tank-top saw was his victim’s wince. The beating was been more than intense. Much of it Oldham had taken on his abs. But very little of his shredded torso had been spared, they'd spread it around. Angry welts said his burning chest had had the wind slammed out of it.. Savage punches to his lower back had knocked the shit out of him. "Boss agreed it was the least you two fuckers could do."Oldham looked up into his face and scowled. Did he understand what the prick meant? Was he supposed to care? Least they could do .. Have the shit beaten out of them. But get that name …..? No fucking way.Still that fucking cell-phone was still in his face, fucking filming him having the hell thumped out of him. That hurt his pride. Unusually Tank-top looked pleased with himself. Was Scott fooling himself? Unbeknown …. While he was out of it, beaten to crap …. Had Oldham unwittingly given that musclehead what he wanted?He hoped not. But he had been so far out of it till that bucket of water had dragged him around. It shouldn’t, he shouldn’t let it. But it did hurt his pride to think they had a film-record of them bitch-slapping his face to bring him round.He wasn't really taking in the words, not properly concentrating. He was hurting like fuck. His knees had given away, he was slumped of his overhead restraints. The shackles on his wrists dug in deep. He just glared up at the intense face staring into his. Oldham just hoped he'd not given these fuckers a thing. It was the last thing he could deny them, that made the name precious. But of course they'd keep on at him still. "Robbed us of about 50 assets. That's a lot of dough you've stolen."So fucking what! Not once had Oldham seen this guy look anything but stern. Even his own guys seemed to be in awe of his moods. They all jumped to it. When his patience had run short with Oldham's obstinacy, one frustrated word from this asshole to "really let him have it" ….. they did was told. And Oldham's abs were screaming out the pain.But oddly …. now ….. why the fucker did he look like the cat that had got the cream?"Pair of muscle-heads like you .. tough as fuck under questioning …. Gotta give it to you. The pair of you …. Tough assholes. Shit! What you’ve taken …… Pair of tough-ass motherfuckers like you two …. mothas who can take a lot ….. You’re gonna be worth a way lot more than a bunch of farm labourers."What the fuck was he on about? Worth a whole lot more. Did he mean ….? "I mean, look at you ….."He turned to the thug with the cell phone."You getting those abs? Just look at that definition ….."He was indicating how Oldham slumped off his ropes made every cobblestone stand out like hell. But ….. WORTH a whole lot more …..? Did Oldham understand correctly what this goon was saying? A shiver went down his spine. He struggled back to his feet. The least he could do to deny them their pin-up of his abs. He flexed the tension out of his shoulders."Fantastic!”The prick was looking appreciative. “Do that again. With the shoulders.”Appreciative like a buyer scrutinising a pig at the market."Give those packed shoulders another pose for the camera."Fuck! Oldham WAS catching on! He was getting this prick’s drift.“You’re gonna be worth a mint!”Oldham feared he WAS getting there. What did these pirates do for a living?"Boss liked my idea ….”Tank-top continued. The gleam in his eye settled on Oldham’s solid-packed pecs .. ignoring the crimson welts and bruising.“Once we've got what we want ….”He prattled on. Though Oldham was itching to have his fears confirmed .. what this prick might be up to.“…. When you’ve coughed up the name ….. so we can put a stop to your little game ….. “He chuckled. This was not the same stern-faced guy.“Gonna have no further use for you …… Are we?"Oldham had got that far in his thinking himself. He’d always assumed it was shark-food from there on. BUT ……?"Body like yours, though …. Tough-ass motherfucker …. . that’s always gonna command a high price. A premium.”His gaze roamed greedily over the muscle he’d been having beaten to shit. Tank-top’s head shook. In genuine appreciation.“Get a look at those abs. Stellar.”He put it in one word.“Exceptional. But then fuckers like you don't need telling. You've put in the effort. Takes helluva lot to get to look like that ….."Eerily Oldham felt a tightening in his gut. HAD he really guessed correctly? Was his inkling about this musclehead right?Prime beef for saleTank-top passed his scrutinising gaze down Scott’s torso.“Body like yours ….. gonna command a premium price”, Tank-top had gloated. Where the hell was the prick going with this? “Stellar abs. Gonna be worth a mint.” Oldham didn’t want to believe his thinking was on the right track. “Least you could do ….. robbed us of 50 assets.” Assets. That was what Oldham and Harrington had become. “Worth more than 50 farm labourers …..” Oldham reckoned he WAS catching this asshole’s drift."And to top it off …. Helluva tough motherfucker. Tough like you wouldn’t believe. A physique second-to-none. AND some tough-ass motherfucker who just keeps taking it."Musclehead gave a lob-sided grin. Eyes all over Oldham’s battered torso. He was shaking his head in unadulterated admiration.“Just keeps taking it.”Oldham’s gut was taut. A stone of realisation hung in the pit of his belly. Asset!"No ordinary bodybuilder from the local gym, you two .. Not stubborn assholes who know no better. TRAINED. Practised in taking as much shit as we can sling at you. A pair of world-class motherfuckers at taking punishment ….."He clapped his hands in appreciation. And greed.“What a fucking piece of luck!”For the first time Oldham saw Musclehead's expression lightened. Both were remembering this prick's confidence in the beach. "Everyone has his breaking point." Scott had already taken a fucking-beating out of hell. And the prick hadn’t reached it yet. Not that this fucker was not giving up. But he was now on another scent.Tank-top, stern as hell normally, he was almost breaking out in a grin."Motherfuckers who just keep taking it. Who’d have bet on it?"Get to the point, Oldham thought to himself. He was itching to finds out if his guesses were on the right track. But …… maybe he didn't want to know?"There are guys out there who'd pay a hefty premium to get their hands on some ex SF-dude ….. Guys with that kinda kink. You know …. Get their rocks off on beating the shit-out of some motherfucking tough-guy trained to take a beating out of hell”His look asked, See the similarity? His gaze slowly took in Oldham’s red-blotched front. Lingered over the punishment his abs had taken.“Guys macho as fuck. Stand up for themselves. Not giving in. Sooner be dead.”The guy snorted. Mocking the irony.Oldham had got this asshole’s drift. But he still wasn’t wanting to believe it. Dismissing the thought. Just some bluff.“Guys out there who ache to own tough-nuts like this. To take you down a humiliating peg."Oldham's thinking hadn't got THAT far. The hold on his chin lifted his reaction for the camera. Annoyed, Oldham twisted his sweaty chin out of the prick's grasp. But the asshole was not to be suckered. He replaced his grip on Oldham's jaw. And squeezed hard. Till he forced out a wince. For the camera."Kill two birds with one stone ….."Undaunted the thug continued with his explanation. Like he was enjoying pinging the nerve strings in Oldham's guts. Just as unnerving as the savage punches to his abs had been painful."Film the interrogations, I suggested to the Boss. Get a permanent record. Showing just HOW fucking-stubborn ….. How motherfucking-tough. What incredible punishment this ….."The hand waved over Oldham's sweat streaked torso .. appreciatively. Greedily." …. how much this shredded tough-ass physique can take. Absorbing an indescribable amount of pain ….. and still refuse to bend."He winked into Oldham’s trapped face. “Worth a fortune ……”He was actually enjoying himself. His licked a tongue over his lip hungrily.“So motherfucking-tough.”The glistening eyes bored into Oldham."There're guys out there ..... gonna eat that up.”Oldham was glaring back. His guts were knotted at the thought. Sold. Bought by some kinky pervert who'd get his rocks off beating the hell out of him. On demand. Not just on the off-chance that Oldham might get caught ….. every motherfucking-day of his life.The thought was scary. A slave to some sadist's evil lusts. But Oldham was not gonna show his nerves .. looking back, refusing to be intimidated by Tank-top’s silly little plan. "Putting the clips up on the Darkweb. That’s what they call it. Film you, catch that motherfucking toughness on camera. Sweating, stinking, beaten to pulp. But still giving us the finger …….”For Oldham, at least that was a good marker .. the way things had gone down. That he had been standing up to them, he had given nothing away. Part-time he’d been out of it.“Upload it. Just speculative. See what interest you arouse.”Tank-top dared to run his finger down the sweaty cleft in Oldham’s chest. Scott snarled a warning. He wasn’t so easily pawed. Tank-top was on a roll, though. He chose to overlook the insolence.“Plenty out there who'd go for it, I reckon. But question is …. How many have got the big bucks? How MUCH ARE you … is THIS worth?"The fucker grinned. His hand roamed in the air over Oldham's battered but shredded physique. Like he was stroking the battered hardness of Oldham’s pecs. For a change Tank-top looked like he was enjoying himself.. For the first time Oldham saw a spark of relish. But it was a pleasure rooted in a sadistic thought. And greed. Tank-top thought he was onto something good. Financially good."Take as long as you want.”Tank-top actually gave Oldham a cheeky wink. This fucker HAD changed his tune,“Fight me back like fuck. Take as much as the guys can throw at you. Spit it back."He chortled. “Keep giving it to the camera.”Oldham actually saw him chortle. He knew why. Fuck!. The more Oldham’s pride denied the prick his triumph, the more Tank-top would have his goon lay into him. The more pig-headed Oldham reacted, the more his resilience got tested ……. his own stubbornness .. Scott's own resistance to their questioning …... FUCK! He was playing right into their hands. Stupid. His reluctance not to give in to these suckers …. His stubborn determination to stick them the finger ….. He was setting himself up. Oldham was raising his own price. His fight-back was his own advertising campaign. Asshole!Under offerTank-top had changed his tune. He shrugged his muscled shoulders appreciatively at Oldham."Quite the pin up boy!"Oldham hadn't really heard anything said to him before. He'd spent an excruciating time strung up standing, the headset on, blaring white noise agonizingly into his head. He was exhausted. It could have been an hour like that, it could have been overnight. Oldham had no sense of time, headset screeching at him, duct-taped in place, blindfolded. Earlier they'd beaten the shit out of him .. before they’d taped him up. His abs had taken much of the punishment at first. The guy with the knuckle rings seemed to find them magnetic. Getting off on the battle between Oldham’s struggle to maintain muscle strength and the pounding of metal into his guts. But that target was not exclusive. Oldham was treated to a number of breathtaking chops to his chest. A giant forearm slammed Scott's his chest .. knocking him backwards .. emptying his lungs of every bit of wind. And then when he was still noisily sucking air in to recover, a thug took a liking to his back. And at each handover .. in the brief respite between having the shit punched out of him .. that Musclehead came leering into Oldham's view. With that same boring temptation. A name. Just a name. And Oldham would be rewarded with a bullet in the head.Except he wouldn’t. Musclehead had changed priorities. He was more tempted by how much he could raise on the Darkweb .. auctioning Oldham’s tough-ass off? Couldn’t risk him getting too injured. That had to be a dilemma. Caught between making a mint off his tough-ass .. and tracking down the snake-in-the-grass who’d ratted on them. Did Tank-top call it a day .. stop the beating before Oldham took too much punishment? Keeping his price up? Oldham would have put his bet on the fucker going for the cash.Anyway, he’d had Oldham trapped back in place, headset on, blaring away. Still strung up. And noise blasted agonisingly into Oldham's brain. Had Tank-top cottoned on to how that weakened Oldham physically? As well as driving him out of his head? Less need to punch the shit out of his innards. And risk losing a good sale. Poor sucker. What a quandary!It had been an eternity of agony. Horrendously loud. Oldham’s nerves jangling, constantly on edge. Pain in the back of his eyes from the screeching .. tears of searing pain collecting under the tape. A headache that soon subsumed his whole body. Every fibre of his body shrieking out. If he'd gone into a fight cage against a pair of gorillas, he couldn't have got a more intense pounding.Weak! So weak! Had he got ANY rest? Any chance at all to recover his strength after the previous battering? It hadn't felt like it. Once or twice he seemed to remember coming more aware of pain in his wrists. Was it his body had slumped? Was it the zip-ties biting into his wrists had brought him round? But that awareness could have lasted just seconds. Soon he was again deluged in a nerve-racking cacophony of gut-wrenching sounds. Drowning. Going under for the third time. Downwards, hell the next stop. It felt like his body had got no rest. That screeching in his head had his nerves so in edge, he felt a hundred times worse than before they'd cuffed him up. And then beaten the hell out his guts. That noise sure did the trick.He yelled out with relief when the screaming stopped. His head had twisted around .. as if he weren't blindfolded .. looking for who'd turned it off. His heart pounding with the stress. His pulse racing. Fears in his gut that it was only a trick, temporary, a game. Any second the goon would chuckle down his ear and switch the horrors back on. He'd yelped when they'd torn of the duct tape. But that was more with relief than the pain. It was over. It was, wasn’t it? The noise-torture had stopped! He couldn't believe it was over. His brain was so frazzled that he never gave a moment's thought that they'd be going for him again. Starting over, beating the shit out of him. He was so fucking exhausted. Weak."Who'd ever have thought?"The muscle dude in his tank top had said a few things to Scott. But he'd taken nothing in. Oldham had seen the mouth move, he'd seen the curl on his lips. But Scott was deaf. He couldn't hear a thing. A sense of panic had first seized him. It was always better to second-guess what the enemy was up to.That comment about him being a pin-up boy was the first sentence he'd deciphered. But his exhausted head could not compute what-the-fuck Tank-top meant."Getting yourself quite a following."Still Oldham’s devastated brain couldn't for-the-life-of-him work out what the prick was on about."Got about over twenty expressions of interest …."Oldham caught on. The darkweb. “Serious interest.”Putting him up for sale. Once they'd done with interrogating him ….."Go a long way to paying off your debt …."In response to Oldham's scowl, not understanding, Oldham's tormentor continued. He couldn’t stop himself. What a stroke of luck!"Who'd have thought that one guy could bring in that much? What you’re worth, man! More than compensate for those assets you cost us …."Was this fucker real? Had they really got the know-how .. and contacts .. to drum up high-rollers with kinky interests .. and rich enough to lay down the cash on a dude for their own personal perverted pleasures. It seemed unlikely. Oldham was sceptical. He was putting it down to a bluff .. like those psych-ops moves in training .. to put him off his stride."A couple of dudes offering exceptional amounts …"Tank-top allowed his eyes a slight leering smirk. And a greedy journey over Oldham’s “exceptional” torso.“And I mean .. EXCEPTIONAL.”Fuck! The asshole looked convincing. So fucking-pleased with himself.“Two. Offering incredible sums. Got yourself quite a fan-club!”Did Oldham want to hear anymore? He wanted to persuade himself this was all some kind of trick. To undermine him. To get him to give up the name. But Tank-top, the asshole, he was as transformed. Like he was already banking the cash.“Two guys. Got themselves into a kind of bidding war.”Incredible. This previously stern icy-faced interrogator was getting himself worked up. Like anticipating the best Christmas present ever. Fucking convincing if it was some act.“ONE … to outbid the other … he’s offering the fucking-earth.”This prick could not believe his luck. Oldham just had to believe it was not some bluff. "The fee offered …… WOW!”Tank-top was shaking his head. He couldn’t believe there was so much money in this.”Subject to certain conditions. And proof before sale."Oldham was surprised to see the prick wink at him. Then, grim faced, he turned to his men."Bring him. Time to gather the proof."Proof of the pudding ….Oldham got the picture the instant he entered the big room. Tank-top's demeanour had half given the game away. What would his new pin-up boy hate the most? What would the big roller reckon …..? What would the macho Scott Oldham never allow under any circumstances? What would challenge his masculinity the most?The room with chest in the middle of the room .. crudely illuminated by makeshift lighting .. that was the big giveaway. Someone had offered a spectacular fee. But wanted to see how his muscular torture toy reacted when forced to take it up the ass.An unexpected elbow to the ribs shot the nearest of Scott’s minders tottering backwards. Flailing for support, he took another couple of goons thrashing onto the concrete floor with him. Scott did not bother thanking his luck. His right fist had already connected with another pirate's jaw. Flooring him in an instant.Proof of the pudding was in the eating. Some pervert was paying for these goons to feast on Oldham’s ass. Not while he had any say in it. Not one of them was a match for Oldham's fighting skills. Hands-to-hand, Scott held his own against the best. The asshole who'd had got in a few boxing lessons .. he was edging backwards .. eyes wide-open with fear .. face lined with fright. Scott grabbed his arm projected defensively towards him, yanked the prick towards him and slammed a fist into his guts that could have made contact with his spine. The guy doubled up, every bit of wind splattered into Oldham's front as he collapsed onto him.Scott was just dismissively throwing this limp body to one side when a force rammed into the backs of his thighs. Hands clasped tight around both legs. Scott felt himself going over. Rugby-tackled from behind.Not one of them was a match for Oldham's fighting skills. He'd take them all on at the same time. But they had him down on the floor, on his front, a half dozen men jumped on top of him. Fists thudded into his back. A hand gripped his hair and emailed his face into the floor. Punched. Kicked. Oldham had the skills. But the pirates had had the weight. They had the numbers. And they were taking no more of his shit!Say CheeseHe roared. He bucked. He struggled and fought. Every inch of the way to that wooden chest. Two men battling with each thrashing arm, his legs firmly gripped at the ankles. His torso tossed and muscularly writhed. Fuck ‘em! They dragged him, they fought with him. He was strong, he was tough, he was a fighter, they were not. But they were on camera, the Boss would watch. Get him through this test, he'd be worth a lot. No way was he not gonna get what was planned. Anyone who failed wouldn't see a cent.Chest pinned over the box, two goons seated on his back. Oldham had already failed to stop them fastening his wrists in the plastic ties fastened to the bottom of the box. He roared at them, he cussed them. Going blistering mad when plastic was hooked around each knee and pulled out sideways. Though it was a losing battle, this tough-ass white-man was not letting up. He’d fight to his dying breath. They couldn't afford to let him rip himself free. Not till those ties spreading his knees were also fastened."Fuck you!"Oldham bawled. Still jerking and yanking."I'll kill you!"He yelled his curses at no one in particular. Maddened and fighting to break free. But struggling was only convincing himself he was stuck. Legs splayed out sideways wrapped around the sides of the box .. opening his backside up, exposed. Draped over this heavy duty trunk that hadn't budged for all his struggling. Trapped."Fuck you!"He screamed out with the pain. A stinging pain surprised him across his backside. The warning swoosh of another strike. Biting hard into his ass. A leather strap laid stunningly hard into his swim trunks. "Gonna get your fuckers for this!"It was all futile. His threats empty. For now, he promised himself. First chance he got, though, he'd get his own back! He meant them, every word, every threat. Yelling out in fury as a half dozen strikes with stinging leather painted a pained sweat across his broad muscled back."Quite the actor."Tank-top had crouched down in front of Oldham. "What a little drama queen."He seized him by the chin and lifted his head. Oldham glared fury through pain-streaked eyes at him."Playing to the camera?" he mocked.Oldham spotted the goon filming him and tried to wriggle his head out of Tank-top's grip. But he failed."I'll get your for this," he promised. He twitched. Something cold touched his ass. Cutting off his swim trunks. A sharp knife slicing then off. Exposing his bare whiplashed ass."My fist all the way up your stinking ass.”Oldham promised with a snarl.“All the way to my elbow!"The empty threat was met by sniggers from behind.Tank-top stared Oldham coldly back. He was back in stern mode."Don't give me ideas."The eyes creased."But first, let's try this for size."Tank-top held up a penis. Pink plastic dildo, glistening in the camera lights. Where the fuck had they found some sex toy like that in the middle of nowhere in Africa?Some fucking pervert .. out there on the web .. was willing to pay them a fortune. IF ….. He was offering to buy Oldham's hide off them. But how wild was the beast? Was he really that savage? How mad could this tough-ass get? Was he really that big a challenge as these pirates were putting him out to be? Let's see. Drive him mad. Do the worst thing imaginable to a macho dude. Let's see what “wild” is. Because that was what the pervert was promising himself. A dude who'd fight him like a savage. A torture-toy as tough as fuck. A warrior beast that was near-impossible to break. That was what the buyer was looking for .. for that kind of dough. The maddest challenge imaginable to a guy who ached to get his rocks off besting the beast. Beating the crap out of the brute. And still the fucker kept fighting him back.Tank-top passed the dildo through the ring of his finger and thumb. Like he was slipping a johnny down the shaft from glistening cockhead to the root. Making sure the camera got a picture … and a clip of Oldham glaring thunder at him.. To Scott Oldham, that sex-toy didn't look any bigger than he himself was. But the thought of them forcing that up him made him seethe."Care to face-fuck it first?" Tank-top offered."Fuck you!" That was all the answer Oldham was gonna give his offer.Smile!Tank-top looked his icy-cold best, not the pleasure of a sadist here. "Suck on it. You know you like it done like that. Why not see what it tastes like?"Tank-top was back into ice-mode, he didn’t look like some guy getting off on raping a helpless victim. Just some dude intent on earning himself a bucket-load of cash. How didn’t matter.Tank-top was raising the stakes, increasing the price even higher .. by filming the humiliation of this macho stud. Raping to order. Done at the request from a rich pervert who was itching to find out how mad this new torture toy could get. It wasn’t just an act of violence. There been plenty of that. Electro-tortured against the wall. His guts beaten to mush. Tank-top had some high-roller who wanted Oldham pushed to the extreme .. to see how he would react. Tank-top had come up with the answer. He was having Scott’s strength of will raped. He planned to have his toughness brutalised. He was gonna have his cool smashed. Tank-top had decided on probing Oldham’s ass to show off this muscle stud when driven out of his wits. How better to do that? Totally humiliate the sucker’s sense of manliness. Rape the prick. Rape him with a piece of plastic. Not even worth taking it up the ass with a real dick.Oldham had shown, he could take any amount of stuff. How would he react having his manliness cruelly abused like that? So some pervert could pay a fortune …. If Tank-top could make Scott Oldham lose his cool and go raving mad."Open."Fuck you, Oldham thought. He'd given up struggling, he'd accepted the fact, it was gonna happen anyway. But play along? Like hell!"Suck it."He looked hard into Oldham's eyes. A meaningful look."Lubricate it."The advice was good. Scott knew it made sense. But …..? Play along? Fall in with this stupid game ….?Oldham saw the point. He glared at the thing. Rosy-pink, menacing. Glistening in the lighting improvised for the show. The thing seemed to grow before his eyes. On second thoughts …..He prised his jaw open."Wider."Oldham cussed himself. He looked at the cockhead poised before his mouth. He felt his heart thumping. He saw the logic. But he didn’t like playing along. Again he measured it for size. He had no idea how big he could take. He opened up."Second thoughts ….."Tank-top leered into Oldham's eyes. Ice-cold, malicious."Why make it easy? Hardly the point."He tossed the dildo over Oldham's bare back."Get it in there. Good and hard.His eyes glared back at Oldham's furious scowl. He’d been tricked. He felt his blood boil. He’d been taken for a ride. The fucker!"DRY."Tank-top’s eyes creased. A evil look."Ram the fucker in.”Tank-top hissed.“All the fucking way."His chilly-hearted glare met Oldham's fury with unnerving determination. He paused before ramming the point home.“Like I said ….. Good and hard.”Tank-top’s head nodded sideways. Indicating the goon working the camera. Chilly he glared at Oldham."And don't forget to smile."FrustrationsScott had really pissed Tank-top off. He felt smugly good with himself that he’d got so far up the prick’s nose. He knew it because every move he made hurt like hell. Lying on his side, curled up into a painful ball, nursing his battered abs .. even breathing pained like hell. He was making himself breath lightly into his upper chest .. any movement on his battered ribcage had him gasping in. Sharp pained intakes of breath slicing like a sharp knife off his ribs.But still there was satisfaction from knowing Scott had foiled Tank-top's stupid little plan. That pervert on the web hadn't seen this macho stud losing it. Scott hadn't been driven wild when that fucking dildo got rammed up his ass.Had the rich fucker said his goodbye’s? Had Tank-top said good-bye to his unbelievable good fortune? Scott could only hope so. It had cost. It HAD hurt like fuck .. still did. Especially Tank-top had made sure it hurt when he saw he wasn't getting what he'd planned. He'd been screaming at his men to “work that fucking thing”. To Scott it had felt like being impaled on a stake pushed up his ass. And then they had jiggled it around .. twisting it, grinding it in .. those thugs had started using it as a battering ram up his ass. His prostate had exploded under the screeching pain. They'd worked it alright. Screamingly painful. Agonising. Even now, probably hours later, his innards had tears of pain coursing down his cheeks. What damage the fuckers had done .. whether he should worry about anything permanent to his prostate …. That worry would have to wait for another day.Scott had outplayed the prick. He’d shoved his finger right up the asshole’s nose. It had been the easiest ploy .. in theory. Tank-top wanted Scott shown off. He wanted him driven out of his head. Most important, Scott had to lose his cool. His temper had to boil over. He had to explode. Scott was supposed to go out of his head at this blistering assault on his manliness. Tank-top's customer wanted to see what happened when Scott Oldham's blood boiled over. As his weapon, Tank-top had chosen rape. What could be worse to a macho dude like Scott Oldham? A plastic dildo jammed roughly up his ass. It was just a show. For Tank-top. A simple experiment. Toying with Scott’s deeply held feelings. Offending him at the depths of this manly core. Maybe if it had been a proper dick .. a man's real cock grinding its way in … well, maybe .. just maybe …. Scott could have accepted that. He knew guys who were into it like that. But a piece of plastic ….? Not even one male raping another male. A sex-toy. A bit of plastic. The ultimate objectification. Made a nothing. Used for a show. An overpowering assault on a dude's sense of manly self-worth.Tank-top had his plan. He’d read Oldham’s sense of macho self-worth. But the prick had read him wrong. Scott hadn't. He hadn't exploded. He hadn't lost his cool. It had hurt. By the fuck, it had hurt his pride. His ass protested at that thing getting jammed up there ….. dry. Nothing to ease it in. And Scott's body knew things passed the other way!The pain he could manage. Seeing himself used ….. an object .. just to hike up the price. Now THAT could have got to him. Resisting, not easy .. denying the prick his show, not a classic Scott Oldham reaction. But Scott had not lost his cool. He'd clung on to his temper. Winces of pain had creased his face. The camera must have caught the pain. And later when Tank-top had lost his patience and was screaming at his men to "work it" … then grimaces of pained shock had clawed talons across his face. The lens had been right in his face.But Scott had kept his head up. Looking straight at the fucker on the web who commanded this act. Hell, it had taken a lot out of him. Not so much the screeching pain up his backside. But the fight to maintain control! Not Scott-Oldham in any normal mode. Fuck, it had cost! Scott had wanted no more than to have his hands free and get them around that sucker's throat. He would have given anything for his fists to be smashing some colour into that evil asshole's face.But Scott Oldham too had a plan. And it was a whole lot better than Tank-top’s silly device. Throughout his ordeal Scott had just looked into the camera lens. Once or twice he’d been tempted ….. Should he grin into the camera? Drawn like fuck to give that pervert out there a wink. But this was a fight. As real as any time he’d stepped into the fight-cage. Not wise to let his opponent in. Keep his opponent in the dark. Keeping his looks as neutral as he could manage. Not a single flare of temper. Not even when Tank-top lost patience and screamed his taunts into Scott's face. Every second he was being ass-raped, Scott looked unresponsive into the camera. Where was this muscle-stud that was supposed to go out of his head?It was Tank-top going out of his mind. With frustration. Maddened, Tank-top had ordered the filming stopped. He'd had his men lay their belts across Scott's ass. His back had to be a mass of searing welts. Their pounding with sweaty-leather into his muscled back had had him nearly pass out with the pain. But …. Fuck ‘em! Scott Oldham had not lost his cool.OpportunityThinking he'd got Oldham down .. assuming a good ten minutes' of a brutal beating on his ass could have melted down any last reserves of stubbornness …. Tank-top had his guys go at Oldham's backside again. Worming that thing back up Oldham's back channel .. ordering them to "really let the fucker have it" …… Oldham gasped. The torture stung tears of pain to his eyes. He bit on his bottom lip to manage the burning pains as that fucking thing was screwed and jammed up his sweaty ass again.But his demeanour didn't change. His cool didn't waiver. He'd pulled it off once, he’d do it again. He'd frustrated Tank-top already. He had seen the plan was working. It was that fucker going out of his mind. With frustration. With rage.It appeared Tank-top had given up finally. He had Oldham released. But he couldn’t stop himself from getting his own back. His frustration lashed out. Arms strongly held by a pair of thugs, Knuckle-ring guy had unleashed an orgy of punishment on Oldham. One hand on his chest for support, the metal-clad fist had hammered a slow barrage of blows. Mostly on the same weakening spot. Right in the belly button. Occasionally, when Oldham appeared to sag under the bombardment, he hammered the rings up into the upper abs. Driving them in under the ribcage. Effortlessly blasting every trace of wind out of Oldham’s lungs. The momentum lifted the helpless victim back to his toes. The goons re-adjusted their grip on his arms. And the pitiless cycle on his navel began over again. Followed up with knee-kicks to his pummelled guts. Last thing Oldham remembered. He’d passed out.When he woke up, he was back in his cell. Tank-top had given up on him. The surprising plus was … for the first time in his cell, he wasn't bound. First the first time since arriving here ….. his hands were free. Opportunity?When they came for him again, his usual pair of goons …. Could he play possum? Could he lure them in? Getting in too close? Thinking he was still out? Since they’d started on him with all this shit, he’d not seen a single one of these pirates carrying. There’d been plenty of firepower when they’d got snatched on the beach. But since …. they’d stashed the guns. Only been at him with belts and knuckle-rings. He'd have no problem overwhelming them. Just have to do it quick. Raise no hue and cry. But there was still the problem with Harrington. He wasn't leaving the guy behind. Way-outWas Harrington getting the treatment right now? Over that box, having a fresh back-channel gouged out of his ass? Was Tank-top having to order Harrington’s unmatchable abs battered into submission too .. like he’d put Oldham through it? Was Harrington managing to piss him off? And getting the crap beaten out of him out of maddened frustration? Tank-top stopping the filming, like he had with Oldham. Pissed off as hell .. seeing this chance at big money swimming down the toilet. Would Harrington get released from the box, held upright by two guys … finger-nails digging into his biceps to keep him steady? Giving his abs the shit. Oldham’s belly had come in for a hammering. Harrington’s were all-the-more tempting. Getting revenge on them. Taking it out on those showcase abs. Till .. like Oldham .. Harrington's knees gave way. Repeatedly knee-kicked in the guts. Blacking out. How was Oldham’s buddy bearing up?Somehow Oldham had to hook up with Harrington. Both in the same space at the same time. Then these fuckers didn't stand a chance.Could he ….? What if Oldham played like he held a grudge? Blamed Harrington for all this shit? His fault they'd got caught on the beach. Or some such tale …..?Did Tank-top want to see a guy go off his head? Did he want to know what Oldham did when his blood boiled over? Put him together with Harrington, he’d offer. He'd give the camera a fucking-good show.He'd beat the fucking daylights out of the prick, he’d threaten. Tank-top wanted to film a man gone out of his head ….? Maddened by rage. Just let Oldham at Harrington. He'd give Tank-top his show. And how! Would Tank-top be tempted? He'd seen his fortune walk out of the door. Could he tempt himself to go for a second bite? Could Tank-top be suckered in? Let this pair of raging muscle-heads at it, head-to-head. Beat the crap out of each other. Upload that to the web … that’d make quite some viewing. It stood to reason .. Tank-top knew Harrington wouldn’t take it lying down. Would fight back. The pair looked evenly matched. It would be a fight from hell. No pushover. Two perfectly built warriors hammering the shit out of each other. A perfect way to show off two wild cats at their best. Could that work? Could Tank-top see himself back in the auction market?Oldham imagined Tank-top looking him over at the thought. Stood there naked. Shredded muscles aching to his hands on Harrington. This pair of ripped muscle-studs going at it, cat-and-dog. Could that be the film clip Tank-top was looking for? When a pair of naked savages showed off what they were capable of .. going for each other ,hammer and tongs. Just what he’d been angling for, wasn’t it? What mad beasts did when they went out of their minds …..Could Oldham pull that off? Trick the prick into letting them to fight each other. Naked. Muscle-brutes. Seasoned fighters. Pumped up with mutual hate. Caught on camera. It could be helluva scene. Tempting?Just put him in a room with Harrington .. that was the offer. Tank-top would get his promo film.Put him in a room with Harrington. His buddy wouldn’t need telling. He’d catch on. These fuckers would never stand a chance. ................
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