Over the years, I have received numerous requests for a continuation of SuperHuman's "Samson" story. Unfortunately, he has never completed the series. However, Benrugby41 has volunteered to continue the story with his own spin on it and it's quite HOT so far!! Here are the first three chapters of Benrugby41's continuation....

Samson - Chapter 7 (Continuation of SuperHuman's story by Benrugby41)
by Benrugby41
Series: Samson
Art piece by Alpharithm9

**** Read SuperHuman's original 6 chapters HERE ****

Humiliated naked muscle man Samson in bondage in Alpharithm9 gay bondage art pieceSamson remained chained in his cell, achingly hard, his engorged cock encased in the tubular contraption dripping precum onto the cold stone floor of his dungeon. Micah had taken him too far. He had been so close as the boy had shaved him down. The slightest touch could have made him cum, days of stored up jizz, but then the lad had disappeared. Leaving him here, naked, hard and engorged.

He heard a noise outside the cell door, seemed like multiple feet, and as he raised his head, he heard locks being released and the door swung open to reveal the dungeon master again accompanied by Micah.

‘Manslave, are you all rested and ready for your next date with Nabal’, the older man said with a grin. Samson didn’t respond, and immediately guards surrounded him, spears pointed at his naked frame. He felt them undoing his bonds, being slowly released to stand again on the stone floor and his wrists once again chained behind his massive back, pushing out his huge chest muscle, his tits erect in the cold and standing out at least an inch from his denuded pecs. He stood there, ready for what came next. Micah came forward and kneeling, tied some thin rope around his swollen testicles, so impossibly heavy, and once again he felt a tug on his leash, he was forced to walk.

The dungeon master placed a spear in the small of Samsons back, and the procession moved along through the tunnels lit by flaming sconces. Samson towered above everyone, he was massively muscled, still intimidating even in chains. But he was manacled tight, and his cock cage swang in front of him with every step, back and forth in rhythm with his forced step. Massive and leaden, his hard shaft felt imprisoned and yet still desperate for release. Would it ever be allowed.

The party arrived at an unlocked cell, and Samson was directed inside to where a shirtless Nabal waited. At least no Delilah, Samson thought to himself.

‘Welcome Slave’, Nabal said as they entered. The room was warm, there were braziers lit, and in the centre hung two manacles connected to some sort of chains. Samson was quickly moved to the centre of the room. Guards spread his legs wide, and attached to each ankle a manacle, which were tethered to huge rings in the floor, forcing his massive legs impossibly wide, his balls falling low and unprotected. Then each hand was released from their cuffs and lifted to be locked in two hanging manacles which disappeared in the dark recess above.

‘Raise him’, cried Nabal, and the sound of a pulley system could be heard, tightening Samson’s chains amd pulling his wrists high into the darkness. He was spread eagle once more, fully stretched wide, his feet once again on tiptoe and each thigh straining with the stretch. His arms bunched as the chains pulled, biceps as big as swollen wineskins, each muscle on his body taut and at maximum stretch, and he looked down at himself, hard, his nipples erect, his massive body a mountain of muscle and virility, accentuated by the artificial pose Nabal had placed him into.

Nabal walked around the prisoner. Assessing him from every angle, like cattle in a market. A bull for the highest bidder. He took hold of the cock, weighing it almost in his hands, or at least the bulbous head. ‘Samson, Samson, you are so well endowed! A beast. No wonder Delilah told me how much she enjoyed to couple with you. I like you like this though, hard against your will. But this meaty head showing, the foreskin pulled back to reveal your potency’. He continued to walk, sliding a hand down the now freshly shaved pectorals, idly flicking at one of Samson’s huge nipples, protruding out from the planes of his chest obscenely. ‘I would much more enjoy you furry Samson, but this look does show off every muscle in your body. I want you to be massive when you are seen by the Philistines, my people. I want you to be the living symbol of my strength, my slave, my beast of burden. But, we have to prepare you. I want you to look the part. Shaved, your body is mammoth, gargantuan even. I want you to be paraded hard with your shaft engorged. Because I will it. But I want you to be marked as mine. I want you to be adorned, so I have decided to place some jewellery on your person’.

Samson bellowed and yanked at his chains, his anger returning, and in that moment he saw Nabal step back in fear. But Samson’s strength has not returned. He was still weak. And Nabal saw it. He could bellow and bray but he was theirs.

Micah dragged over a roaring brazier as Nabal continued to speak. Sweat had started to run down Samson’s body, in rivulets. Down his mighty pectoral muscle, down his back, disappearing into the cleft of his arse cheeks.

‘I want you to be marked as mine, as my triumph, so I will have your nipples ringed. Now. With big iron rings used on bulls, anything else would look out of place, and i do so want you to fit into life here’. He cackled, amused at his attempt at humour. Samson started ahead, refusing to meet the boys eyes.

‘Every step you take from now on, every move you make with that inhuman body of yours, you will feel the rings move and hit your pecs. Every moment will tell you that you are my slave, my beast. You will be ringed like a pleasure slave Samson, right through the sensitive teat ending itself. I want you to feel the pain as you are made mine’.

The door opened and Samson saw Delilah walk in. Accompanied by a servant carrying a chair. Of course she would want to see this, this marking, this disfiguring of a body she had desired. She sat down in a corner of the cell. Micah was there too, in the shadows, along with guards who all seemed to focus on the behemoth of a man, spread eagle before them, chained, his cock engorged and hard. The dungeon master was heating rings in the fire. Samson could see them glowing. He stared ahead, adamant they would not see his fear

Nabal addressed the company before him. ‘Today we will see Samson adorned with insignia that will mark his as ours. He will then begin his public display in the city, his public duties, of which we are all excited, but for now, enjoy the spectacle. Dungeon Master, do take it extremely slowly’. And with that Nabal moved away, leaving the dungeon master, assisted by Micah, in charge.

Micah handed a thin needle to the man, and produced some sort of pliers. Micah then proceeded to clamp hold of Samson’s left teat. His nipples achingly hard now, impossibly prominent, and the crowd seemed transfixed by what was happening before them. Micah pulled the teat with the metal pliers as far away from the pec as possible, and everyone saw Samson wince at the pull. The teat was at least two inches away from his pec. The crowd watched the hero grimace with pain as the dungeon master placed the needle against the very tip, making sure the position was correct, before he pushed the needle through, firmly but slowly through all the nerve ending in that tiny part of Samson’s physique, creating a torrent of pain as a trickle of blood appeared. Once the channel was made, the dungeon master picked up an iron ring from the fire before Samson, glowing red hot.

The scene was silent, no one spoke, sweat poured down Samson who grimaced but refused to scream. It was only when the threading of the ring took place, threaded through a teat freshly punctured, a solid iron ring pushing through a much smaller path, stretching the flesh, cauterising the flesh, that Samson screamed. A scream that came from the belly of the man, deep and agonised, his chains rattling in impotent fury. Delilah could not stop herself almost orgasming at the thrill she felt, watching Samson be pierced as he had pierced her so many times. Watching him sweat as he dealt with the agony of the piercing. Watching him realise he was now marked as a slave with a huge bull ring though his left tit. A ring that would remind him, with every step that he took, that he was their prisoner now.

Nabal watched entranced. To see this bull of a man, once feared, now made docile was very erotic. He longed to take Samson now, to have him chained on all fours in his rooms, but first there had to be the reckoning with the city. Samson had to be displayed and put to work in front of his victors.

Nabal addressed the onlookers. ‘Well done Dungeon master, but now pierce the other teat, but take it much, much slower. There is no need to rush and I want Samson to feel every bit of well deserved pain as the needle pierces that teat. I want to see every expression of our hero’s face as he passes from warrior, to slave’.


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