Review

How do you give the utmost praise to something that makes you gasp with both carnal joy and terrified disbelief at the same time? You simply say, "Raging Stallion."

Expect to witness some of the most well-produced explicit powerplay and dark dominant deviant desires in this epic sexual assault on your senses. You’ll want to watch it from so far leftfield (through your fingers) again and again to prove to yourself that yes - this hot, nasty, verbal action thriller is real. And once you’ve seen it twice, you’ll never let it out of your sight ever again!

Just two warnings:
Those of a sensitive disposition should run screaming in the opposite direction right now, and two, those simply curious to explore may also want to avoid this ambitious S&M muscledude flick that’s likely to attract the attentions of and disapproving phonecalls from Amnesty International.

But you know something? If you miss this major production, with its top notch quality filmmaking and total bang for your buck, you’re a fucking chicken-shit pussy-whipped MF and should get the Hell out of my sight. And the rest of you can wipe those smirks off your faces because they ain’t gonna last!

Daddy Zeus, famous for his fetishism-and-fight-fuckflicks, has enlisted the help of seriously twisted director Ward, whose depths of depravity would send Squeaky Fromme running for saner companionship. And together they have, like Baron Frankenstein and Dr. Pretorious, created a Monster both totally crazed yet stunningly beautiful. Glance over the box-art you’ll see that it promises "pointless resistance", "sheer terror", "sprit broken", and "brutal agony"; you’ll soon discover these are not meaningless threats from foundationless blurb-hacks. It’s all true. Oh, and you can also expect plenty of "overwhelming ecstasy", too.

It starts innocently enough as hirsute man-mountain Evans and shiny-happy-pervert Pierce spend time exploring each other’s hot, naked bodies. The camera loves the two guys as they worship each other’s pumped physiques (fab armpit action). Sumptuous close-ups get us so close to the action you’d swear you could smell their sizzling passions. Enjoy…because it soon gets nasty. An unseen Master crashes their little party-of-two and subjects Evans and Pierce (each restrained by their formerly loving partner) to some malicious, evil, violent agitation: verbal abuse, physical assault and psychological torment. When a metal cockring is ripped from the base of Evans' hard tool you’ll know you ain’t in Kansas no more.

[If you live alone in an isolated house, crank up the speakers and enjoy the full screams of agony and ecstasy in Sensurround, but if you share a place, might I recommend you lock the door and invest in some headphones.]

If the sight of two abused musclegods practically sobbing as they are pushed beyond the endurance of ordinary humans doesn’t have you drooling, prepare to meet Marko, who’s amazingly odd swollen penis looks like it’s been salined-up or vacuum pumped out of all recognition. It’s wonderful but freakish!

Marko’s totally shaved body is tied up tight and can only enjoy the torments that the Master dishes out, including having his meat and potatoes tied up tight with at least nine rubber cockrings (this is punishment?) and horsewhipped. But watch this guy shoot - it’s a soda siphon!

The last brave soul to endure the Cenobites of Hellraiser’s treats is Eric Michaels, whose crucified pose allows the Master full access to every inch of his body. The whip is only for starters, as Michaels’ is subjected to breath-control (which I’d never seen on video until now) before he’s threatened with a razor-sharp meat cleaver (OMG!) and flick-knife in an amazing sequence that’s four parts all-out pulse-racing, heart-thumping, groin-expanding erotica and one part horror movie. And are those industrial bolt-cutters? You’ll be sharing Michaels’ fears as one slip from the Master and he’d only be good for Karen Dior movies. Was he paid danger money? At least the sexy slave is allowed to jerk-off one last time whilst his balls are squeezed in the vice-like grip of the apparatus.

We close the movie with a revisit to Evans and Pierce. (How does he get through airport security with all those piercings?) Previously, the duo found the best way to deal with their torments was to endure them together. Luckily (or unluckily depending on your viewpoint) their pec-punching, bollock-whipping, water-torture session is over and the two studs spend an intense session sucking and fucking each other back to sanity. (If only all victims of abuse were so easy to rehabilitate!) Evans eating his own spooge off Pierce’s chest got my heart pounding.

After the film you get an extra thirty minutes bonus with Evans and Pierce interviewed, talking about their previous work, but being pretty stingy when it comes to actually providing clips to illustrate! It’s nice enough, but most people would only be interested in what’s going into these guy’s mouths, not what’s coming out. Finally there are tons of ads for Pierce’s Raging Stallion Sexpack movies that continue right till the DVD ends.

I don’t know if it’s praise for the Master, his slaves, the directors or even the fluffer, but it’s a testament to somebody’s greatness that there’s not one limp dick to be seen. Whoever it is, you’ll be writing thank-you letters. Just don’t try any of this at home. Buy this instead, and avoid having the police pay you a house call.
-Froufrou A. Gogo