Hercules lay on the cot in the back room. They had taken his clothes. He was completely naked, his voluptuously muscled body bound with leather thongs to the corners at the wrists and ankles. They had put him out of it after a long, shocking fuck and suck-session and now his eyes were closed and his magnificent chest rolled with the shallow breathing of the unconscious.
A trickle of glistening sperm gleamed at the comer of ms slightly open mouth, tracing viscous path across his chin and down his jawline collecting in a sticky puddle at the base of his neck. There were bruises and bite marks around his nipples - the  left one was charred a little where the sheriff had sadistically sizzled him with the tip of his' cigar a couple of times, just to watch the big motorcycle jock squirm.