Is there no safe place for Alex Oliver. He can’t even get into a car without somebody jumping his tight, sorry ass. This time around it’s man’s man Damien Rush, armed with a rag doused with chloroform. A fully clothed Oliver comes to in the ring, awoken by an ice cold chain around his neck. Rush is dressed for success, sporting a low cut black singlet that perfectly frames those legendarily hairy shoulders, armpits, legs, and chest.
Oliver is stripped, revealing red Speedos, like he somehow knew to dress for the occasion. Off comes the shirt, and in comes Rush with a full briefcase of toys to torture everybody’s favorite little bitchboy.
“Stop!” begs Oliver, his pretty face crushed within Rush’s armpit. It’s hard to tell what’s more painful...the stench, or Rush’s long, languid monologues about pain and power. Oliver endures both, only to have his abdomen crushed by chains, his mouth stuffed and gagged with leather belts, his wrists secured to the ropes with duct tape, and his very will to fight stripped away by the master of torment himself!
