The clean beat down

My bollocks have been knelt on.

I have been spat on.

My entire body has been pinned down and grated with a Brillo pad.

And I paid £15 for the privilege.

Stone and I found a small traditional Moroccan bath house called a Hammam. It was supposedly one of the oldest Hammams in Fez. The locals couldn't actually believe we had found it.

First off we had to strip down to our boxers and enter the large steam room. The room was full of Moroccan men of all ages most wearing soggy translucent pants sagging from their bodies.

We were then each handed buckets with small stones, some black fluid and a exfoliating mitt. We proceeded in cautiously and were greeted by a burly pot bellied Moroccan man. This man spoke no English the whole time we were in there but instead just pushed and pulled us around as he wanted, which was strange enough without his other actions.

We both sat down on the floor with the other Moroccans in the steamier of the two rooms. The hairy pot bellied man then beckoned stone through with a single creepy index finger. 

I waited, very nervously, not knowing what was going on. All I could hear was a man making very load sshhhhhhhh noises in the next room.

Curiosity got the better of me. I had to know what was going on.

I peered cautiously around the wall into the other room.

Stone was lying starfish on his front in the middle of the room with the Moroccan sat on top if him, straddling, and rubbing the black liquid over his back making a sshhhh noise with every stroke. 

I quickly scuttled back to await my turn. 

Stone came through to get me with a face that said "good luck". It was my turn so I went through. The hairy man slapped the floor indicating I was to lie down. I complied. He was very gentle at first, studding me up and washing me down like a 6"3 infant. Gentle except the fact that he was sitting or kneeling on my testicles the entire time.

Then shit got real.

He flipped his pad over and started to get rough.

He pinned my face into the ceramic tiles with one hand and scoured me with the other.

He used my abs and chest like a washboard. 

He scoured my inner thigh repeatedly ball tapping me with every strike.

All the while making the shhhhh noise.

He then told me he was finished, so I asked him about the massage we had paid for.... Big mistake.

His first move can only be described as WWF's walls of Jericho, he stood one foot on my lower back and lifted my feet up behind me quickly like I was going to back heel myself in the head. I tapped out quickly!

He then tossed me around like a rag doll, essentially beating seven shades of shit out of me.

At one point I was sitting on the floor and he was straddling my arm, his arse in my face and his dirty Moroccan balls resting on my shoulder.

We were then taken outside separately, wrapped in dressing gowns and given orange juice. 

I imagine it was a very funny scene but at the time all we could manage for the first few minuets was a knowing look. 

We had clearly been at the receiving end of some kind of crazy assault.

Well at least it was a cultural experience.

 We limped off like broken men.

On the way back we picked up some goats heart burgers, as you do, and went to the hostel to sleep off the abuse.