from "Milan Palermo - il ritorno" 2007. I love the necktie moving.

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Warriors Series 002

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A pilot episode of an animated web series. 
Is focused in the arena animals rather than the gladiators, but maybe still worth the watch. 

Warm and humid air blows through the room as Mike opens a window. The late morning sun cast brightly into the room, illuminating his V-shaped back and snug white briefs around his bubble butt. 
 
You lean up on your elbow, it sinks into the soft bed beneath you. You taste your stale, morning breath as you let out a yawn. You can still smell Mike’s musk around you. It arouses you. He turns around to face you, a sweet smile on his handsome face. His perfect body, broad shoulders that taper down into a thin waistline. A natural sixpack that rivals any celebrity trainer. And a deep, deep navel. 
 
He jumps in the bed next to you, you feel his hands touch your chiseled, unshaven jaw line and his lips suck sensually on your own. You feel as his hand traces down your neck, following the crevice of your muscular chest and down the middle of your ripped abdomen. He fingers your navel aggressively as he continues to kiss your lips. His fingers slid further down your belly, scratching through your light happy trail, they slide underneath your briefs and over your thick pubes, you feel them wrap around your throbbing member. 
 
He let’s go and pulls away from you. A big grin on his face, he says, “let’s play”.
 
You nod in agreement as he gets off the bed and begins to fumble with a chest nearby. He grabs a pair of leather straps.
 
“Some bondage?” he suggests, as you nod in enthusiastic agreement. 
 
He jumps on top of you and grabs your wrists, pulling them above your head. He wraps the leather around your wrists and then again around the posts of the bed. 
 
You feel helpless and so, so turned on.
 
He is on top of you again, his ass sitting over your engorged privates. You admire the toned body above you. He leans over and grabs your nipples, twisting them tightly. You groan in pleasurable pain. He kisses you again, then rolls off the bed. He digs around in the chest again. More toys, you think to yourself in anticipation.
 
He grabs something, his hands clasped behind his back so you cannot make out what it is. He jumps on top of you again, his ass landing in the same spot over your groin. He gyrates his hips as you begin to precum. 
 
He brings his hands out in front of him and you see he is clutching a very elongated rod, it is sharp at the tip. An ice pick. 
 
You smile in anticipation as he traces it over your chest, barely touching your soft skin. He traces it down the center of your abdomen, he places it in your navel and spins it slightly, then traces it down your left oblique before coming up his own belly. He puts the ice pick in his navel and presses hard. 
 
He grunts as it shoves in, just barely breaking the skin. He pulls it out and you see a small stream of blood begin to puddle in his deep navel.
 
You lean your body and head forward just enough to kiss his navel, lapping up the blood. The taste of iron in your mouth turns you on even more. 
 
He pushes your head back down. You feel the cold ice pick in your navel, the sharp tip digs into the scar tissue. There is a slightly painful pressure before you feel the sharp point pop through the skin and lurch inside of you.
 
“ughh”, you groan in pain but mostly pleasure. 
 
He pushes harder and you feel as the ice pick slowly sinks inside of you. Centimeter by centimeter, your navel envelops the cold metal. You can feel the uncomfortable invasion deep inside you as the ice pick pierces into your guts.
 
All six inches of the pick are inside you now. You look down at Mikes hand wrapped around the wooden handle. He let’s go. It moves up and down with each of your breaths. At this point, there is very little blood.
 
He grabs the handle again and begins to pull the ice pick out of you. You feel the resistance as your tight abdominals flex to hold it tight. He pulls harder and the ice pick slurps out of you, it’s sharp point drips a few drops of blood on your lower abdomen, as a stream of blood begins to slowly stream out of your navel.
 
You groan in pure ecstasy at the sight and feeling. 
 
Mike gyrates his hips over your groin again as he places the ice pick in his own navel again. He leans over you, hovering belly over belly. He gently aligns the wooden handle of the ice pick onto your bleeding navel as he lowers himself down on top of you. You watch in awe as he applies pressure and suddenly the ice pick lurches inside of him as he collapses on top of you. 
 
He too groans in pure ecstasy. You feel his lips suck onto yours, his tongue navigates deep into your mouth. 
 
He pulls back, and sits up on your groin again. He grabs the wooden handle of the ice pick and yanks it out of his belly, shouting in pure adrenaline. Blood trickles from his navel as he jumps off the bed again.
 
You look at you own abdomen, blood pooling around your navel, a deep but pleasant paint within.
Suddenly, Mike is back on top of you. His ass gyrating over your groin as blood drips from his belly button, down his lower abs, soaking into his pubes and white briefs. 
 
He holds a surgical scalpel in his hands. He brings it down to your belly, placing the sharp edge on the tender skin above your navel. He presses down and you feel the metal slice into you. Blood pools around the blade as it travels down towards your navel, slicing you open. He pushes hard on the scalpel and you feel as it slices through not only your skin, but you abdominal wall and into your belly. 
 
He stops and pulls the scalpel out of you. You feel the cold metal slurp out. The length of the wound is about two inches from your mid belly down to your navel. 
 
Mike stabs the scalpel into his own lower belly, a good inch or two. He lets it go and it stays in place as he leans over you again. You feel his hot breath against your neck as he lowers his torso down on top of yours, the butt end of the scalpel slides into the gaping wound in the center of your abdomen. 
 
You close your eyes and crane your head back, groaning in pain and pleasure as you feel the thick cylindrical end of the scalpel press inside of you. Mike groans too as the sharp end of the scalpel stabs further inside of him.
 
You feel his sticky blood on his lower abdomen as your belly’s begin to touch. Suddenly Mike exhales and collapses his entire torso onto you. You feel the butt end of the scalpel dig deep inside your gut. Your groin explodes in ecstasy at the feeling, splattering cum up your lower belly as your member is squeezed between your body and Mikes.
 
For a moment, he lay motionless on top of you. His eyes closed and his head resting over your left shoulder. Your abdomens and chests touch skin to skin, you can feel his torso rise and fall with each deep breath. Blood drips down the side of your stomach, soaking the bed beneath you.
 
Mike’s head turns towards you, his lips touch yours and he kisses you sensually. You wince as he begins to very twist and rotate his torso, moving the scalpel that connects your two bodies around in a small circle. 
 
He begins to lift himself in a push up position, the blood sticky between your bellys pulls apart. The butt end of the scalpel gently rises out of the wound in your abdomen. It stays implanted deep in Mike as he rises. 
 
Finally he sits up on your hips again. You admire his ripped body, blood smeared over his six-pack, the scalpel juts out of his abdomen just above his bleeding navel. 
 
He takes his cock out and begins to masturbate over you. It happens quick, as his cum explodes over you. It mixes with the blood and drips into your wounded belly. 

You stir awake again. Still warm and humid. Mike snores to your side. You touch your belly, feeling the solid muscles, and absent wounds or scars. Your hands trace down your lower belly and you can feel your sticky cum and the tip of your still hard cock jutting out of your briefs. 

    Twist it in my guts

    The deeper it goes, the harder I get

He is so hot.
From Tekken 2010

Brody McCall hoped they'd leave. The men outside were dangerous, and he knew he was in for it. He was hiding in Old Man Cropper's barn, and in his little spot amongst the hay bales, it was hotter than hell. 

"C'mon out, boy!" called Sheriff Tom Masters. "You gots one minute to come out, or we're gonna burn you out! Y'hear me?"

Brody held his Colt revolver in his left hand. But he only had two bullets left, and there were ten armed deputies outside. Rivulets of sweat dripped into his eyes and burned them. By now, thirty seconds we're gone, and he knew the Sheriff wasn't lying about torching the barn. 

"I'm comin' out," he called.  

He stood and walked to the barn's doors. He tossed his gun outside and raised his hands.

"Good boy," Masters said. 

Two of his men, Virgil and Darren, quickly grabbed him and held him tight.

"Deputy Withers! Get the hangin' rope!"

A lanky deputy ran to his horse a few feet away and produced a pre-tied noose.  He handed it to Masters, who walked slowly up to McCall and put it over his head.  The rest of the fifteen foot rope stayed with the deputy.  Masters ripped McCall's shirt open down to his pants.  The young man's slender body glistened with sweat. 

Masters smiled as he ran his hand over the captive's smooth belly.  With his other hand, he produced a long, heavy bladed knife.  McCall didn't even have time to blink before the knife was plunged into his navel all the way to the hilt.

He screamed as his guts felt the cold steel invade their space.  The sadistic lawman twisted the blade several times before ripping it free and jamming it higher into his stomach.  

"Hang this piece of shit!" Masters ordered. 

McCall was dragged to the nearest tree, a tall oak, and Withers launched the rope over the thickest branch he could get the rope over.  

The deputies held McCall until the rope was taught and Withers and another deputy were pulling him up. He choked and coughed as his airway was constricted.

When he was about three feet off the ground, the deputies tied the rope off and he struggled. Masters felt himself get extremely aroused at the sight of his knife in the man's belly. 

"Okay, boys! Shoot him while he's still kickin'!" 

The men drew their revolvers and began firing at the struggling man before them.  Fountains of blood exploded from his bare skin.  When it was over, Brody McCall was hit almost fifty times. His chest, belly and crotch were awash in his blood.  His mouth oozed with blood that ran down his chest. 

Masters knew he would get off later at the visuals now burned into his brain.  The corpse would be left for the birds.