A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH ... Part 17 By Rob Williams

Here's the latest chapter of our story, guys. As I always say, let me know what you think, and any suggestions you have for the future. E-mail me at rw6789@aol.com. Enjoy ...

CHAPTER 17

The house was empty. Randy and Darius had already left, having spent the night together. So Bob was alone and he already missed his buddy like hell. This was, after all, the first night he had not slept with Randy since they first met.

Randy's interest in the beautiful young Darius had quickly become intense. He had been the first man to penetrate the black man's ass, and had welcomed him into the house. He had put him to work on the construction site, disciplined him savagely when he got out of line and then, overcome with remorse, had spent the night with him, no doubt, Bob thought, making tender love to him.

Bob was pleased that Randy had become fond of Darius, treating him like a kid brother. But he couldn't shake the feeling that his buddy had suddenly transferred all his affection to the younger man. Perhaps he found the beautiful young black man more sexually arousing than he did Bob. Did he still turn Randy on as much as he always had?

Subconsciously he wanted to reassure himself that he still looked good ... desirable to Randy. And now was the time, because there was something more immediate he had to take care of. He was horny as hell. With Randy giving all his attention to Darius, Bob hadn't had an orgasm for days and he had built up a real head of steam. He got out of bed and looked at himself in the full-length mirror.

Yeah, he looked damn good. Randy had taught him to get off on himself in the mirror and as he stood there in his underwear, a tight white tank and boxers, he flexed his gym-perfect muscles. He ran his hands over the bulge in his shorts as he became aroused by his own image in the mirror. He pulled his dick through the fly of his shorts and began to stroke it. His long, thick rod became rock hard in seconds. He ran his free hand over his chest, and was turned on by the feel of his solid muscles underneath his tank.

Remembering what had excited Randy so much, he took hold of the cotton tank and began to stretch it slowly. Soon there was a ripping sound as, bit by bit, the shirt began to tear. One shoulder ripped away and as the fabric hung loose from the other shoulder he looked in awe as it exposed one of his sinewy pecs. He pulled again and tore off the other side, so the shredded shirt dropped to hang round his waist. He pulled down his shorts, kicked them away and stood back to admire the muscle god in the mirror.

He was naked now except for the torn white cotton clinging to his waist. He admired his broad shoulders, the sculpted slabs of his pecs, his wide lats tapering past solid eight-pack abs to a trim waist. He smiled at the handsome face with its chiseled features, the lantern jaw and deep brown eyes.

He reached under the torn tank shirt and resumed massaging his cock. He narrowed his eyes and the image in the mirror became someone else, a gorgeously sculpted body builder. He began to fantasize and spoke to the mirror image.

"Jesus, you're fucking beautiful. Look at that body man ... Yeah, flex those big muscles for me. Remember when you were tied up and whipped? Remember how you flexed when the lash would round that huge body? Yeah, feel it, man. Feel the pain in that gorgeous body. You fucking beautiful naked slave. Remember how your master broke you by making you cum? But you're tough, you won't cum. But you can't take it can you, man? So get on your knees, fucker. Start to beg."

He fell to his knees, enraptured with the image of this big powerful man being degraded by his master. As he pumped his cock he spoke again, lost in his fantasy.

"Feel that whip man. You can't take much more, can you? He's gonna break you ... he's gonna make you submit and shoot your load. But you don't wanna cum, do you? So beg him to stop"

Bob flashed on the memory of Randy standing behind him, torturing him.

"Please, sir. I can't take it. You're ripping my body to pieces. The whip is killing me. Look at that muscular body being torn apart. Please, master. I'll do anything. Just don't make me cum. Aaah, no! Please stop thrashing me. I give up, sir. I submit, master. I'm your slave. But please don't make me cum, sir. Please, I'll do anything but ... Noooh!!"

His cock shuddered and he let lose a massive stream of hot semen that splashed all over the mirror. It arced high and hit the reflection of his face, running down over the straining torso, the flexing shoulders and biceps that had, in his fantasy, been so brutally beaten. He fell forward and brushed his face against the warm semen on the mirror. He licked the cum-splashed image of his face, lapped at his tongue, kissed his own face.

He pulled back and, on his knees, looked in awe at the broken man, body heaving, streaming with sweat, cum streaming down him, the shredded remains of his shirt hanging round his waist.

"You're finished," he said to himself. "You've thrashed yourself. You are your own slave."

As the gleaming body builder stood up and wiped the sweat and cum off his body with the torn tank, he smiled into the mirror. That proves it, he thought. He knew he was still physically and sexually desirable ... he knew he could turn Randy on like no other man could. So that was not the problem.

After a quick shower Bob sat down to a solitary breakfast, his usually healthy mix of oatmeal, brown-rice protein powder, yoghurt and granola. He stirred the bowl absently as his mind fixated on Randy. He wasn't sure where all this was going. He would have to wait and see.

Time for work. He dressed quickly. He unfolded a crisp new white shirt, put on a striped red tie and pulled on his best dark gray suit. He was transformed from a cum-covered slave into the confident, successful vice-president that looked back at him from the mirror.

An hour later he was sitting in on an especially boring board meeting. His memory flashed back to the scene of earlier that morning, the image of him pumping come all over his mirror image, and his cock became rock hard. It stayed hard in his pants under the conference table as he gave his presentation of the sales figures to the board. As they thanked and praised him for his speech he smiled and thought to himself, "If they could only have seen me two hours ago..."

His thoughts wandered again to the tangle of relationships at home. Maybe, he thought, Randy's fascination with the man he looked on as a kid brother would diminish and he would come back to Bob with the love and passion they had always felt for each other. He smiled to himself. If all else failed ... well ... he always had the man in the mirror.

Meanwhile Randy and Darius were hard at work. Earlier, in the truck, the dominant construction worker had told the young man how things would be. At work Randy would be distant; he would treat him like one of the crew ... no special treatment.

"I'll have a word with Dave. He's a great old guy. He'll take care of you. Just do what he tells you to, OK?"

"Yes, sir."

When they had arrived at the site Randy went over to the older man and said, "Keep an eye on him, will you, Dave? He'll work hard. Help him as much as you can, buddy."

"Sure thing, Randy," said Dave, with a knowing look.

"Shit," thought Randy. "He's a canny old bird. Probably knows, or guesses, everything."

After work Randy drove Darius over to the nearby Target store on Santa Monica Boulevard. He had promised him they would pick up some clothes for him as he had none of his own. Randy got off on helping Darius make his choices. He smiled as the young man tried on shirts and pants. Shit, he looked good in everything.

"Wanna get a beer on the way home?"

"That'd be great, sir."

"And listen. You can ease off on the 'sir' most of the time. We're buddies now, OK."

"Yes, sir"...I mean..." And Randy roared with laughter.

Over many beers at the bar Randy listened intently as Darius described his difficult early life, how he was physically and sexually abused by his father and ran away from home to fend for himself. Randy looked deep into his eyes, moved by his candor, his struggles and the toughness he had shown in overcoming them.

"Well, don't worry any more," Randy said. "You've got me to take care of your now." He reached over and rubbed the top of his head affectionately. They were both a bit drunk when they left, and they drove home with Randy's arm over the younger man's shoulder. They got home late. Darius went straight to his pool house and Randy walked thought the house where Bob had already finished dinner.

"Sorry we're late," Randy said. "After the store we stopped at the bar, and you know how that goes. I'm gonna check that he's OK." And he walked straight out the back door, leaving Bob alone again, and strode over to the guest house where Darius was trying on his new clothes.

"Looking good," Randy said. "But there's one way you look even better. No clothes at all."

Darius grinned at him and quickly stripped naked.

"That's better. Now come here," and he pulled the beautiful black body into a tight embrace. They fell onto the bed and in a few minutes Randy's cock was inside the willing ass and their bodies turned over and over as they made love yet again. It had been a long day and they were soon asleep, locked in each other's arms like the night before.

So for a second night Bob slept alone. He understood very well that Randy was establishing his big-brother relationship with the young man and he was OK with that. "Bonding, I think they call it," he thought to himself. But that didn't help the loneliness he felt and his foreboding about the future.

The situation did not improve as the week wore on. Randy and Darius were having a good time getting to know one another. They talked a lot, laughed together, and spent much of their time in the guest house. Bob was being ignored, but he rationalized that Randy was like that. When he was enthusiastic about something he became obsessed with it, to the exclusion of everything else.

By the weekend things were coming to a head as Randy had spent most nights with Darius and Bob realized things were getting serious. Finally, one night, Randy did sleep with Bob ... at least for a while. As he always did when next to his lover Bob had a hard on. But Randy was preoccupied and paid little attention. Suddenly Randy got up and walked naked out of the bedroom. Bob knew he was going to Darius.

That was enough. Bob got up, pulled on his clothes, and wrote a note. He gathered a few things from the closet and silently left the house and drove away.

In the morning Randy pulled himself out of Darius's bed, pulled on his boxers, and walked into the kitchen of the main house. He went to get some milk and saw a note taped to the refrigerator. As he read it he froze.

"Sorry, buddy. Had to get away for a few days. Needed some time to myself. Time to think. Be happy with Darius. Take care of him. He's a great guy. I love you...B"

Randy took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling. It was as if a bright light suddenly flashed on. His world came crashing down as reality hit him in the face like a bucket of cold water. He saw the whole picture. "Jesus Christ. I am such a fucking asshole ..... What the hell am I doing? I've been a selfish fucking prick." He walked aimlessly round the room trying to gather his thoughts.

Bob was his life. But he had been so caught up in his new relationship with Darius that he had treated his buddy liked shit. He became frantic. He had to go to him, talk to him, beg for forgiveness. "How could I treat you like that? Where the fuck are you, man?" He punched the wall. "Shit ... damn...I need you, buddy."

He paced the floor in a rising panic. He felt lost, spinning out of control. Then a sudden thought hit him and he looked in the closet. As soon as he saw that some of the camping gear was missing he knew where Bob had gone. He grabbed one item from the closet, ran out of the house, leaped into his truck and sped away toward the freeway. Soon he was heading north to the Angeles Crest Highway. He would find his buddy in their special place in the forest, he was sure. He just hoped to God he was not too late.

His thoughts were racing and he spoke to himself. "I can explain ..... I'll try anyway ..... I'll beg his forgiveness." He was racked with guilt and there was only one way he knew to deal with it. "I need to be punished, that's it. There's only one way I know. I need to be hurt, man... Please, buddy ..." and his hand gripped the bullwhip on the seat beside him.

In his frenzy he almost missed the turnoff from the highway onto the dirt road they had taken before. It led to a lake high in the Angeles Forest where they had gone soon after they met. Here they had shared one of their most intense experiences together, and first realized they were in love. As his truck bumped along he prayed that his instinct had been right and that Bob had returned to this place.

He almost shouted with joy when he finally saw Bob's SUV parked by the lake, at a small beach surrounded by trees. He screeched to a halt, leaped from the truck and looked frantically for his friend. No sign of him.

He was about to start yelling when he saw splashing far out in the lake, coming closer to shore. It had to be Bob. With powerful strokes the figure swam closer and finally stood up in the water and began striding to the small beach. Randy looked in awe at the stunning, sculpted figure of the beautiful naked man, his muscles rippling after his long swim. As he strode ashore, his body streaming with water, the sun reflected off the water and bathed his magnificent body in glittering light. He truly was a muscle god.

Randy murmured to himself, "Damn, he's a knockout. He is so fucking gorgeous. How could I have been so fucking stupid?"

Bob had seen the figure of the construction worker standing by the lake and his heart leapt. The sight of his buddy was enough to make everything right. He had come for him. He left the water and walked toward Randy ..... but then he saw in the bullwhip in his hand. He knew he would be thrashed for leaving so suddenly. He stopped, put his hands behind his back and hung his head in submission.

Randy stepped forward, unfurled the whip ... and held it out to Bob.

"No, man," he said softly. "This is for you. You must use it. I need it."

Bob frowned in confusion but Randy stopped him from speaking.

"I've been such a damn fool. I love you, man, you're my life, and I treated you like shit. I was an arrogant prick. I feel so guilty and there's only one way I know to get rid of the guilt, to purge it. I need to be punished ... hurt physically. You know me so well ..... sometimes physical pain is the only language I understand. Please, sir. Whip my body."

Bob was stunned. At this moment all he wanted to do was take Randy in his arms. For him there was nothing to forgive. But Randy was right ..... Bob knew him well and knew that he could never forgive himself unless he was physically punished by the man he had betrayed. He knew what he must do, the role he must play. So he reached out and took the whip.

Bob stood looking at the brawny, powerful man, waiting in submission, his arms locked by his sides. He looked magnificent, in his old T-shirt, jeans and boots. But Bob knew he must break him to restore their friendship. He locked eyes with him and spoke.

"You fucking bastard. You arrogant cocksucker. You really thought you could treat me like that? You think you're the master, don't you, the top man? Well think again, asshole. You're nothing but a piece of shit."

And with one swift move he reached forward and ripped the T-shirt clear off the heaving torso before him. Randy stood there, stripped to the waist, his superb body waiting for the sting of the lash.

Bob stepped back and unfurled the bullwhip, eight feet of braided leather. He raised his arm and paused as he looked into the eyes of the big, shirtless construction worker. Flexing his bicep he brought the whip curling round the hard body with a sharp, savage crack. As it wrapped around the muscular torso Randy's head flew backward and his scream of pain echoed across the lake. He had no time to recover before the lash fell again, and again.

The pain was intense, but the big man stood his ground and gave no sign of giving in. The lashing continued, accompanied by the tortured man's moans and screams. Bob walked around the rigid body and struck from every angle. He watched in awe as the huge muscles tensed and flexed to absorb the excruciating pain. As the whip fell again and again the body was driven backward until it staggered to rest against a tree.

Bob bent down and picked up the torn remains of Randy's T-shirt. He quickly brought his captive's arms backward around the tree and tied them at the wrists. He pulled off Randy's boots, pulled down his jeans and tossed them aside. He looked into the eyes of the suffering, naked man tied to the tree. He saw not only intense pain, but also a continuing need to be punished.

"You piece of shit," Bob snarled and brought the back of his hand viciously against the prisoner's cheek. "Look at the big stud now. How does it feel to be on the receiving end for a change?" And he hit him again and again, watching the handsome, chiseled face fly from side to side under the blows. Then he brought his hands up to the heaving chest and began twisting the nipples in a vise-like grip. Randy's breath came in huge gasps as he struggled to endure the pain in his chest. Finally Bob stopped, stepped back and looked at the sagging body bound to the tree.

"That chest is so fucking gorgeous. I'm gonna really enjoy shredding it." And he began to bring the whip across the massive pecs, again and again, until the torso was a mass of angry red stripes and welts. Randy looked up with agonized eyes and clenched his jaw. He managed to gasp out,

"I'm still your master, asshole. You'll never make me submit, no matter what you do."

"Is that so, man? Well we'll see." Bob untied Randy's hands and pulled him forward. As he stood there by the lake Randy waited in defiance. Bob suddenly gave up just playing the role of torturer and became serious. He really needed to break this man, to pay him back for what he had done. He began to whip him mercilessly, curling the lash around his chest, arms, and shoulders, then bringing it around his naked ass so the tip hit his cock.

Randy was screaming, his body shuddering, streaming with sweat, and tears poured from his eyes. But he refused to submit. "That's it, fucker. Thrash me. You'll never break me. You're not man enough."

Hearing this Bob lost it. Shoulders and biceps bulged as he thrashed the body uncontrollably, with lash after brutal lash on the straining, agonized muscles.

Randy was in another world, his only focus was bearing the overwhelming pain. He was not even aware he was speaking as his defiance began to break in his confused delirium. "You're nothing. You'll never break me. I'm too strong for you. I won't give in, sir. I'm your master, sir. I love you. Forgive me. Please sir, whip me ... forgive me. You're my master. I submit. I give up. I can't take any more..."

And he finally fell to his knees and looked up with pleading eyes.

"Please stop sir. Have mercy. You've broken me. Please forgive me. I'll do anything for you. You're the master. I'm a worthless piece of shit, your slave. Please buddy..." And he fell forward onto the ground, flat on his stomach."

The word 'buddy' jolted Bob back to reality and he stopped whipping and looked down at the broken man. This is what Randy had needed. He had needed this intensity of pain to rid himself of the guilt he felt.

But Bob was not finished. Grabbing the big construction worker by his hair he pulled him back onto his knees. He looked down at the handsome rugged face, tan, swarthy skin, high cheek bones, square jaw covered with dark stubble. Bob's cock was rigid and he pointed it at the gorgeous, pleading face.

"Not so macho now, uh? You're pathetic. OK, stud. Open your mouth."

As Randy obeyed, Bob pushed his iron-hard shaft viciously into his mouth and all the way down his throat. He began to fuck his face brutally, pulling all the way out and then ramming his throat again. The big man's eyes opened in horror and he gagged helplessly. Tears streamed down the muscle stud's face as the pounding continued, until he was close to passing out.

But suddenly Bob pulled his dick out, pointed it at his slave and shot a huge stream of hot cum all over the agonized face. Semen, sweat and tears poured down the beautiful, tortured features. Bob reached forward and his hand roughly smeared the creamy cum all over the face. He stood back with a satisfied smile.

"Just look at you now, stud. You're a fucking mess. You need a shower." His cock shuddered and let loose a torrent of hot, bitter urine. Randy gasped as the piss hit him, and he instinctively opened his mouth. He swallowed the rancid liquid in huge gulps, but some still streamed out of his mouth, over his chin and splashed onto his bruised chest and down to his thighs.

When the pissing stopped he again fell forward onto his stomach, his body heaving and shuddering in pain. Bob walked backwards and stood ankle deep in the water. He taunted the fallen man.

"Come on big guy. Come and wash the piss off that beautiful body. You're finished and you know it. You're a broken man. Let me see you crawl."

And that's what the agonized man did. Slowly he dragged himself on his stomach toward his master. The ground was soft here and his body became caked in mud as he painfully heaved himself forward. All the time he looked up at the man he loved, the man who had beaten him so brutally and broken him. The sun shimmered behind the tall muscle god and Randy fell in love all over again. As he crawled forward he sobbed.

"Thank you, sir. You're the only man alive could have given me that. You're magnificent. You're my master. I love you with all my body and soul." And he fell against his buddy, grabbing his muscular thighs and pressing his face against them in an act of total submission.

"We're not done, asshole," Bob said. "On your back."

In the shallow, muddy water Randy rolled onto his back. Bob knelt down between his legs, grabbed hold of them and pushed them backward. His cock was still hard and he brought the head against the hole. With one hard shove he penetrated the big man's ass right to the back of his gut. Randy gasped in a mix of pain and joy as he felt his lover's ass plunge inside him. He looked up at the man he loved and pleaded with him.

"Fuck me, sir. I'm not the master ..... you are. I'd do anything for you. Use me how you want. I'm your slave. I belong to you. My ass belongs to you. I beg you ... fuck me..." and suddenly his rigid cock flew up and started to pour with hot cum. It pulsed out of him, the culmination of all his guilt, the pain, the degradation, but mostly the passion he felt for this man who had totally demolished him, the man he loved completely.

Bob again felt his cum rising from deep within him and it poured into his lover's ass, pulsing into the back of his gut, anointing him with the powerful love he felt for him. Eventually he pulled out and, still on his knees, looked down at the magnificent man lying in the mud and water, his body striped and bruised, his face caked with mud and tears. They held each other's gaze and they experienced that unique union of souls, joining together in another spiritual dimension.

Their bodies heaved as they stared intensely at each other. After a long while reality intervened and, as their gaze softened, a broad smile spread over their faces. "You son-of-a-bitch," Bob said and fell forward into his lover's arms. They began to laugh and rolled over and over in a tight embrace in the shallow water of the lake. They were back together.

After a long, soothing swim they splashed ashore and fell down on the grass. Lying close their faces were inches from each other. They smiled. No need for words. They understood .... felt rather ... what had happened and knew that they were reunited, closer than ever before. But eventually Randy broke the silence.

"I'm a damn fool. I've always acted like a master of the fucking universe."

"But you are," Bob smiled. "You're the master of my fucking universe."

"I'll do anything for you, you know that. I need to put it right. I'll get rid of Darius. He leaves tomorrow."

Bob frowned. "Don't be such a fucking asshole. You can't do that. Buddy, you can't treat people like that, throw them away like yesterday's trash ... especially people you love. And I know you do love Darius. I do too. He's a great guy. He's crazy about both of us." Bob smiled, "Plus he's a great, great fuck."

Randy grinned. "You noticed that too, uh?"

"Like it or not ... and I know you like it .... Darius is here to stay. He's part of the house, part of us."

"You know," said Randy, "you're not only totally gorgeous, you're a fucking saint. But there must be something I can do for you. Just name it."

"There is ... and I think you know what that is."

Randy pulled Bob to him and held him in a warm embrace. Then he turned him over onto his back and knelt between his legs.

"I love you man. Let me show you."

He pulled Bob's legs up, placed the head of his hard dick lightly against his hole, and ever so slowly eased forward. The long shaft slid gently into the warm, moist ass and they both entered paradise. Randy had never fucked anyone this tenderly. There was no lust, no pain, just intense, profound love that could be expressed only in this way. He smiled down at the man he loved and eased himself gently back and forth, lost in the sublime touch of this sweet, soft ass.

"Oh god, man," Bob breathed. "Whatever I said before, you are my master. You own me. I'll be you're slave always. I love you inside me. Keep fucking my ass. Don't stop, buddy. It's yours."

And they didn't stop for a long time. Finally the warmth intensified and, without any break in the gentle rhythm, their cocks began to pour cum, Bob's all over his heaving chest and Randy's inside of the body of the man he loved.

As they drove back, with Randy's arm draped over his buddy's shoulder, they talked of what came next with Darius.

"The poor kid," said Bob. "He must be wondering what's up. You know how scared he is that you'll send him away. We have to make it clear to him that that will never, ever, be an option. I want him to feel secure. After the life he's had security is something he has never dared hope for. We must show him he belongs ..... to both of us."

"And just how do we do that, smartass?"

"Oh, I have something in mind."

Randy laughed. "I bet you do"

Meanwhile, at the house, Darius was sitting at the kitchen table, his face buried in his hands. He had come in to tidy the kitchen and he quickly saw Bob's note that Randy had not pulled off the refrigerator before he left the house. By this time Darius knew the guys well and it didn't take him long to work out what was up. And he thought it was all his fault.

"I never should have come here," he said aloud. "I'm bad news for these guys."

Grabbing a big empty trash bag he ran out of the house, back to his pool house and started stuffing his clothes into the bag.

"Home at last, thank God," said Randy as the truck started to climb the hill to their house. "I need a beer."

"...or two," echoed Bob.

"What the hell?" Randy braked sharply as he saw, coming down the hill in the other direction, Darius on his bike, balancing a big overstuffed trash bag on the handle bars. Randy wrenched the wheel into a screeching U-turn and took off in pursuit. He quickly caught up and skidded to a halt in front of the bike. He leapt out of the truck.

"What the fuck's going on?"

Darius looked up scared but defiant. "I'm no good for you guys. I gotta go. I'm leaving."

"The hell you are," Randy shouted. He picked up the bike and threw it in the back of the truck, followed by the bag of clothes. "Get in."

He pushed Darius in beside Bob, got behind the wheel and made another U. Darius was trembling as he sat between them. Randy looked at Bob.

"Said he's leaving." He gave a grim laugh. "The punk's walking out on us." Then he turned to Darius.

"Get one thing clear, asshole. You do not make decisions like that. The guy who makes the decisions around here is me. Is that understood?

"Yes, sir," Darius said feebly. He looked terrified but was reassured as he felt Bob squeezing his knee.

When they got to the house, Randy said. "Take the bag back to your room and come back in here."

Bob pulled two beers from the fridge and sat with Randy at the kitchen table. Soon Darius came in sheepishly and stood facing them.

"Get yourself a beer and sit with us," Bob said. "Now what was all that about?"

Darius cleared his throat and said, "I saw the note and realized you'd left. It's all my fault. If I had never come here you guys wouldn't be breaking up. I wouldn't hurt you guys for anything in the world. I love you .... So I gotta go."

Randy started to lose it, "You stupid motherfucker. What the hell gave you that idea? Nothing, and nobody, is breaking us up ... ever. And you are not, repeat not, going anywhere!"

"But it's all my fault that you ..."

"Shut up! Did I say you could speak?" Bob shot him a warning look across the table and his tone softened. "Jeez, you make me so fucking mad sometimes. Listen, if it was anyone's fault it was mine .... and I just got punished big time for that .... plenty enough for the both of us," and he gave a sideways smile at Bob.

Bob spoke up. "Darius, we both love you. You are part of this house. After all you've been though in your life you can finally stop being afraid. You're safe. You're with us now. And nothing's gonna change that."

Randy threw his arm around the young man's shoulder and grinned, "As long as you make that perfect ass available whenever we want it."

For the first time Darius smiled. "No problem there, boss."

Bob continued, "You're probably wondering where we go from here, whose gonna sleep with you next, fuck you next. Well, it's real simple. I have something in mind."

"You do?"

"Go down to the basement room ..... and strip naked."

"Yes, sir!" and Darius jumped up and ran downstairs.

Randy grinned at Bob. "You sure you have a plan?'

"Sure, I'm sure."

"Am I gonna I like it?"

"Oh, yeah! Guaranteed!"

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength ... Part 18"