U.S. Marine Wes Morales has toughness. Stripped to his jock and a T-shirt, the fighter is bound to a metal chair with duct tape. “Fuck you!” he screams when his captor, a civilian in casual clothes, demands that he reveal his mission. “This is your last chance, Marine,” the man says, but Wes will state nothing but his name, rank, and serial number. The man rips Wes’ shirt open, revealing a hairless, sculpted body, then attaches clapmps to his nips.
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