Journey to hell


Work the fucker into the ground.  Worked till he sweats blood.  Every second, every moment, no let-up.  On his back.  Breathing down his neck.
Tiradates’ orders couldn’t have been clearer.  And that troop knew better than not to carry out every word.  To the letter  ..  and beyond.  Tiradates had a temper.  He bore a grudge.  And he decided on the spoils of war  ……  Enough said?

When the emperor took possession of this prize, this prick would be broken ….. body and mind ……




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in praise of men we’d like to be





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