Crimson Fury could and should have his own film franchise. This dude has a movie star face and body. Perfectly proportioned. Flawless from head to toe. There’s only one problem...he’s tied up in the threshold and can’t get away. Slade Gormon is a big, beefy, bald bruiser with a mature presence. His body is hot in that beefcake 1950’s kinda way, and he’s got a sick obsession with abdominal abuse and ball busting.
You can hear every strike Crimson Fury takes to the abs. Each hit lands with a gut twisting thud that you can practically feel. Slade wants info, Crimson doesn't have it. Slade cups the hunk’s balls, crushes his johnson through his red speedo, massages his abs with almost romantic tenderness, then punches him in the abs and pinches his nipples so hard the hunk’s skin shows white when nasty Slade lets go.
“Come on, man. Stop...please,” begs the beautiful victim, who winces and gags in total agony with every abuse that’s inflicted upon his inarguably perfect physique. Soon the hero is allowed to collapse in a cold metal chair, but the restful reprieve is short lived, as Slade prefers to sleeper the slumped hunk as hard as he can. Their sweat mingles. The abuse doesn’t stop. And still Crimson Fury doesn’t give up what he knows. Time for some rope play with an unconscious hero!
