O Barbaro...

Giant spiders and monster snakes....That is the world that Conan inhabits.  But every now and then a diminutive demon pulls our hero down to earth with some herbal potion or hypnotic trick.  When they do, all his mighty muscle and savage strength fail in the face of subtle witchery and cunning, leaving our hero dopey, helpless, and in the clutches of his enemies.  Every despot has a weakness...The desire to dominate the heroic.  And each will seek some way to possess the strength on the likes of Conan...To penetrate the depths of the pureheart hero and bring them to heel.  Conan was such a one to be dominated.  For beneath the flesh of iron lay the soul of a slave...one who would be possessed and made to worship at the altar of service, one who liked the pinch of torture and peril, one who enjoyed a taste of the lash.  For this, Conan was easy prey to dwarves with hypnotic powers...

And like every good victim, Conan can do little as they pillage his manly gifts and ravish his juicy physique.  His humiliation is completed as even his own body betrays his manly desires in a symphony of fleshly rapture...hardening rod, tightening tits...like a randy schoolboy, Conan is reduced to a panting puppy, eager to lick and suck and please any who might wish to sample his ample goods, his sweet nipples and tasty cockhead.  The old hypnotist mumbles a few words and like magic, the heroic Conan is waggling his meaty glutes and begging for someone to fill his tight rosebud...