A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH ... PART 26 By Rob Williams

Hi guys. This chapter is has real heavy duty action in it, where Mark and Randy get brutally punished by the Baxter gang. Some of you have told me there's sometimes too much pain and suffering for your taste, but this chapter is the climax of that and from then on the story will calm down and focus much more on the relationships between the guys, especially between master and boy. So hang in there. There'll be something for everyone.

As before, please email your comments and suggestions to rw6789@aol.com.

A Trial Of Strength ... Part 26

It had been a night to remember all round. While Pablo was being gently introduced by Bob to the joys of making love, Randy had arranged an intense fantasy for Darius, with the help and participation of the gorgeous cop Mark.

The next day was a day to regroup before the rigors of the workweek. "Thank god it's Sunday" sighed Bob. "I think we all need a rest."

"I sure do," said Mark. "Long day tomorrow. I have to go back out to the desert to give evidence at the preliminary hearing of the Baxter trial."

"What?!" Randy barked. "Hell, you're not going out there alone with those assholes on the loose. I'll be right there with you, buddy."

"No, Randy. I can take care of myself. How would it look if I brought my own stud bodyguard to protect me? I'll be fine. Just a quick court appearance and then straight home."

"But the other three Baxter boys are not on trial. And they're out there waiting to dish out the payback they threatened you with ..."

"Empty threats," laughed Mark. "They know better than to mess with a cop. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

Randy fell silent, lost in memories of the day when he and Mark had rescued Pablo from the clutches of old man Baxter and his two sons. Randy had beaten them savagely and Mark had discovered their crystal meth lab in a trailer in back. As they were hauled away to jail, old man Baxter had promised that his other three sons, still on the loose, would take revenge.

Early next morning Randy went into the garage and was surprised to find Pablo working on his truck.

"Almost finished sir. She's running like a bird. Thought you might need it today."

"Thanks, kid." He grinned. "You cleaned it up real good." He gathered up the padded blankets that he used for hauling stuff and threw them in a heap in the corner of the flat bed.

As he strode out of the garage he bumped into Mark, who was already dressed in his full police uniform.

"Early start," said Mark. "Out to the desert."

"God, I wish you'd let me come with you, with those three assholes on the loose."

"I told you before, I'll be fine." He laughed as he straddled his big police motor bike. "Don't worry. I can take care of myself. They'd be idiots to try anything."

"Call me on your cell phone when you're headed home. If there's any trouble, I'll be ready."

They bumped fists, Mark kick started his bike and roared away.

As it turned out Mark's evidence, as the police officer who discovered the Baxters' meth lab, was brief and factual. It was, after all, an open and shut case. Old man Baxter and his two sons would almost certainly get long prison terms. The three other sons were not involved and were still running around free.

After grabbing a quick sandwich Mark decided to head for home right away. He jumped astride his motor cycle, kicked it into life and hit the road, glad to put all this behind him and get back to Randy and the guys.

He was still on a fairly deserted road headed for the freeway when suddenly a truck skidded out of nowhere from a side track and almost collided with him. Mark braked sharply and wrenched his bike sideways. He ran off the road, jolted down a small embankment and crashed against a rock, falling stunned to the ground. He was only dimly aware of a strong arm coming round his neck and squeezing his throat. Then everything went black.

The big cop was slow to regain consciousness. He was first aware of a dim light and the smell of grease. Then he heard the sound of deep, rasping voices. He tried to move but couldn't. He realized why. He was spread-eagled, his arms stretched up and out and tied at the wrists, as were his legs. Slowly he opened his eyes and his heart sank. Three sadistic, surly, ugly faces leered down at him and he knew where he was.

Still in his uniform he was spread-eagled on his back on the car hoist in the Baxter garage. He gradually focused on the three thugs surrounding him. They were huge bears of men with beer guts, two of them bearded, all dressed in filthy grease-stained jeans and black T-shirts, stinking of sweat.

"Welcome to hell, pretty boy," growled the leader. "Guess you think you're one hell of a stud. Well, we'll take care of your pretty face and body real good. After what and you and your boyfriend did to my daddy and brothers you had this coming."

Mark managed to speak. "I'm a police officer. You'd better think again, man."

The burly giant laughed. "You know where you are, don't you. In my daddy's garage. 'Course, it's closed for business now thanks to you and your fucking boyfriend. So it's nice and quiet. Nobody comes here. We're miles from anywhere. No one to hear your screams. And you are gonna scream."

"Maybe we should introduce ourselves, officer. I'm Jake, this here's my brother Silas and this is my baby brother Junior. Junior's still in his twenties and not too bright so we give him things to play with. He's gonna have fun with you. Silas and Junior can be real mean ... but I'm worse," he said with a guttural laugh.

He nodded to his brother Silas who stepped forward, put his hands on Mark's uniform shirt and yanked it open, exposing the white T-shirt stretched over his muscular chest. The man ran his hands over it, felt the shape of the big nipples and squeezed them tight, making Mark wince in pain.

"I wanna see his chest," ordered Jake.

Silas grabbed the neck of the T-shirt and quickly tore it to shreds. With a few violent movements he pulled at the tattered remains of the shirt and T-shirt until Mark lay spread-eagled, naked to the waist. His sculpted chest heaved and flexed in anticipation of what was to come. He didn't have long to wait.

"Belts off, boys. You know the drill." They pulled the heavy studded belts from their jeans and stood over the helpless cop.

"This is it, shithead. And I wanna hear you scream." They all raised the belts and brought them crashing down on the bodybuilder's flexed chest muscles. The sudden pain was intense and the beautiful cop threw his head back and screamed in agony, pulling frantically at his restraints, his magnificent body bucking and straining under the rain of blows.

The pounding went on for several minutes and the heavily veined muscles writhed as they became a mass of red welts and bruises. Finally it stopped and Mark lay in agony, his breath rasping, his shirtless torso heaving and streaming with sweat.

"I need to take a leak," said Junior.

"Think that goes for all of us," sneered Jake. "And here's our piss pot right in front of us."

They pulled out their dicks, pointed them at the bound cop and began to stream urine over his face and chest. Mark gasped as the bitter smell of their putrid piss poured over him, blinding him and making him choke. When he was able to open his eyes he looked down at his ravaged chest, streaming with sweat and rancid piss. The muscle god closed his eyes in the helpless agony of a tortured man.

"Now here's the good part," said Jake. "The one we really want is your boyfriend. He's the one who really hurt our kin. See this here? It's your cell phone, officer. Now let's see here. Yeah, there's a number listed here for 'Randy'. Bet you a dime to a dollar that's lover boy. Let's find out."

Randy was feeling uneasy all day and had come home early. It was mid-afternoon and he was talking to Pablo when his cell phone rang. He looked at the screen and saw with relief that it was Mark.

"Hey, buddy. Where are you?"

"In hell," the guttural voice said.

"Who the fuck's that? What the hell's going on?"

"Here's what's going on, lover boy. We got your boyfriend ... but it's you we want. Come on out here and we'll do an exchange. We'll stop torturing his ass in exchange for yours. In case you need any persuading, listen."

Randy heard a loud crack and what sounded like the scream of a tortured animal.

"You motherfucking sons of ..."

"Shut your mouth. Get out here. I think you know where. And if you tell a living soul where you're going he's a dead man." And the line went dead.

In a panic Randy looked around but Pablo had already left the room to give him privacy. There was no one to tell. "Shit. Shit. I knew it."

He didn't wait to grab clothes or any gear, except for a tire iron from the garage. . Dressed only in jeans, boots and an old gray tank top he sped out of the room, threw himself into his truck and, with a screech of tires, sped away.

Randy had never driven so fast in his life and gave silent thanks that Pablo had tuned up the truck so well. And he had never felt so alone. He willed his buddy Mark to hang on. He wanted him to know that he, Randy, would absorb all the pain these thugs could dish out. He prayed that he would not be pulled over for speeding, and that prayer, at least, was answered.

In just over an hour he was approaching the remote garage. He stopped the truck a distance away, grabbed the tire iron and walked up quietly. He knew that all the odds were against him but he thought the element of surprise might give him an edge. All was quiet. He crept around the back of the garage and tried to see in. He was unaware of the figure behind him and was suddenly immobilized by a chain pressed around his throat from behind.

"Inside, lover boy," hissed a voice in his ear. "Your buddy's waiting for you."

He was manhandled inside the garage where he instantly took in the terrifying sight and screamed, "NO!" He stood helpless, in a state of shock. Mark was still spread-eagled but no longer on the car hoist. He was hanging from hooks in the ceiling, his arms spread wide and his legs spread and secured to hooks in the wall.

Stripped to the waist, still wearing his uniform pants and high boots, his magnificent body shuddered, his huge muscles straining and flexed, his chest and shoulders covered in angry red welts and streaming with sweat. His head hung down in semi-consciousness and a heavy chain hung round his neck and down to his waist.

"Come on, big guy. Say hello to your boyfriend. My brother Silas was just working on him. Show our new friend, Silas."

The big thug was holding battery jumper cables in his hand, the end attached to a small humming electrical generator. He moved forward and touched the cable terminals to Marks nipples. There was a buzz and the effect was instantaneous. With a piercing scream Mark's body convulsed in a jolting spasm as the electric current ran through him. Even when the cables were withdrawn his body still shuddered.

"Looks pretty good, uh?" Jake sneered. Randy stared in disbelief at the magnificent, heavily muscled, shirtless body that now hung spread-eagled, jangling in its chains like a helpless rag doll. The beautiful, sculpted features were twisted in agony, tears pouring down the face, blond hair matted to the forehead.

Randy clenched his teeth and growled, "Let him down. Put me there instead. It's me you want. It's me that beat up your father and brothers. Torture me, thrash me. Just let him go."

"You hear that, guys?" Jake laughed. "He wants us to hurt him. Let's take a look." With one move he ripped the tank from Randy's chest and it hung round his waist. "Wow, you sure are a big guy. Looks like you're used to getting your own way. I'm really gonna enjoy torturing your ass. OK, my brothers. Let's do as he says."

A short while later everything was ready. Mark was slumped on the floor. Randy was naked, his arms stretched upward, wrists tied to a single rope attached to a hook high in the ceiling, his feet a few inches off the floor. He hung twisting from the roof as if he were being stretched on the rack, and the pain in his arms and shoulders was intense. He stared defiantly at Jake who was inches from his face. He could smell his stinking breath.

"Now let's see," Jake leered. "You was gonna be a punching bag for Junior here ... help him work on his boxing skills. But we thought it would be more fun if your boyfriend did the honors. We'll let him give you the thrashing you begged for. But first, a little insurance."

He picked up a long length of rope, grabbed Randy's balls and tied one end around his scrotum so his balls were stretched tight. Then he picked up the other end, went over to the wall and sat in a chair. He flicked the rope back, stretching the bodybuilder's balls in an agonizing jolt. Randy clenched his teeth and winced with pain as his body swung from the roof.

Jake jerked his head at the slumped Mark and said to his brothers. "Pick him up." The young one, Junior, threw a bucket of water in Mark's face and he and Silas hauled the shirtless cop up on his feet. He stood there swaying unsteadily, water pouring down his muscular, bruised torso.

"OK, officer, here's the deal. You're gonna give your buddy the thrashing of his life. And just to make sure you don't hold back I'm gonna yank his balls if I don't think you're putting all your strength into it. Like this here .... " and he pulled hard on the rope, jerking Randy forward by the balls with a howl of pain. "Just remember, pretty boy. I can rip his balls off in a second, so don't pull your punches. Just pretend he's the punch bag at the gym."

Dazed as he still was, Mark knew what he had to do. There was no choice. The two muscle men locked eyes and there was a silent agreement that this was the only way. Randy nodded imperceptibly. Mark took a deep breath, walked around the hanging body and punched hard at the flexed pecs. Randy gritted his teeth but made no sound as his body swung backward and spasmed with the sudden pain.

His silence did not last long. As his buddy continued to punch him hard his screams echoed round the small space as his body flexed and jerked in agony in his tight bondage. Mark's eyes filled with tears as he continued to circle the stretched, beautiful body of the man he loved and rained blows on the chest, stomach and thighs. Flexing his bulging muscles hard to withstand the blows, Randy was howling as their mutual agony continued.

If Mark tried to soften the blows Jake yanked at Randy's balls and made him scream at his buddy. "Hit me harder, man. Thrash my body. He's ripping my balls off. Harder, man, harder! Torture me, you motherfucker." The agony continued, as one bodybuilder put all his muscle into savagely beating the other. The only way Mark could get through this was to visualize the punching bag at the gym instead of the huge muscle stud. Blindly he pounded frantically at the figure swaying before him.

"Hit his face," Jake screamed.

Mark brought the back of his hand against the sculpted features of the swarthy face, which contorted in a howl of agony. Again and again he smashed his fist against first one cheek, then the other.

Finally, mercifully, Jake called a halt. The huge body hung twisting slowly, shuddering and jerking in pain. "So what d'ya think, boys? Some show, uh?"

"Jake," whined Junior. "Whadya think these faggots do when they're together. D'ya think they fuck? D'ya think they fuck each other up the ass?"

"Good question, Junior. Why don't we find out? Untie him. Strip the cop.

The two muscle gods stood naked facing each other. Untied now, both thought of making a break for it, but they knew that it would be useless against these three and lead to worse torment.

"You," Jake pointed at Randy. "On the floor. On your belly."

Randy obeyed. He lay prostrate, face down on the stone floor, the smell of grease filling his nostrils.

"Show us your pretty ass, big boy."

Randy pushed his ass in the air. Silas leered down at the muscular body. "Don't they need some kinda lubrication for that? Like oil or something? We got plenty of oil."

"Damn right," said Jake. "Ok, Junior. Get him ready."

The youngest brother laughed and grabbed from the shelf several cans of motor oil. He began to pour oil over Randy's ass, running it all over the rounded cheeks, into the crack, and finally all over his broad, muscular back. In a sordid state of abject humiliation, Randy slid on the filthy floor in a lake of motor oil.

"OK, officer. Now that he's all oiled up, let's see you fuck you're boyfriend. I'm sure you've had plenty of practice. If you don't give us a good show I can still rip his balls off."

Horrified, the beautiful, bruised, naked cop knew what to do. He sank to his knees astride his fallen buddy. Looking down at the magnificent man, even thought he was in utter, filthy degradation, he was amazingly still turned on and his dick was soon hard. He fell forward onto the broad back, sliding in the black oil and brought his mouth to Randy's ear.

"Hang in there, buddy," he whispered. He brought his cock up against the man's oil-slicked hole and slid it easily all the way inside his ass. Randy let out a groan that was part agony, part humiliation but, incredibly, part lust as he felt his buddy's cock slide all the way in."

"Fuck him!" Jake barked. So Mark did. He brought his own ass up and pressed it down hard time and again as he penetrated deep inside his friend. The three brothers could not believe the sight of these two beautiful bodybuilders, crushed, beaten, sliding around in the thick oil, the one fucking the ass of the other.

Silas moaned. "I wanna see his face. I wanna see the fucking loser's face as his ass gets ploughed in all that oil. You, asshole, flip him over."

As gently as possible, Mark turned Randy over, pushed his shoulders against his legs and continued to fuck him hard, knowing that Randy's balls were still at the mercy of Jake. As his agonized eyes gazed into the handsome face of his friend he could swear he saw a hint of a smile spread over the swarthy features. His admiration for this battered giant grew and, despite the filth and degradation, he found himself fucking the magnificent man through lust, not fear.

Jake sensed that his plan was not having the effect he wanted. "OK. I want to see you two animals shoot your load. Pull your dick out, shitface.

Mark pulled himself back on his knees over the ravaged man and started to stroke his cock. Lying beneath him Randy did the same, and they locked eyes as they stroked themselves close to their climax.

All three brothers stood looking down in amazement at the men as they slithered in the oil. Jake growled softly, "OK, losers, let's see you cum." Mark smiled down at Randy, their rhythm increased and suddenly, silently, their oil-covered cocks streamed with hot white cream, splashing all over the heavily muscled, bruised chest of the beaten man.

In total exhaustion Mark fell forward and rolled off Randy, splashing down on his back beside him in the pool of oil. They looked up at the three brothers with a slight smile of defiance.

Mesmerized by the sight, and without thinking, the three brothers had pulled out their own cocks and stroked them fast. Soon there were three jets of cum splashing over the oil- stained bodies of the two battered musclemen. They flinched as the rancid cum splashed over their faces and chests.

"These animals are fucking filthy," Jake growled. "Wash 'em off boys." And the two shattered men felt more liquid pour down on them, this time with the stink of bitter, rancid urine. The thugs emptied their bladders all over their agonized bodies, into their faces and mouths. They gagged as they tasted the nauseating taste of their tormentor's piss.

"Tie them up," Jake ordered.

Randy was now tied up as before, his arms stretched painfully upward, wrists tied to a single rope, though this time his feet touched the floor. The rope was still tied around his balls. A few feet in front of him, Mark was in exactly the same position. They stared at each other, at the bulging muscles stretched to their limit, their beautiful bodies streaming with black oil, rancid piss, and the cum of their three jailers.

"I liked it when they shot their load, Jake," said Junior. "Think you can make them do it again?"

"Junior, I can make these pricks do anything I like. You wanna see them cum again? You got it, kid."

He reached up and untied one of the wrists of each man. The arm dropped down limply.

"Now, assholes. My little brother wants to see you cum again, all over each other. And you're gonna do it, or Silas and me's gonna rip your boyfriend's tits off." He raked around in a box. "Here we go. This should do it." He held out four alligator clips, long-nosed clips with serrated edges. He gave two to Silas. Each stood behind one of the men and brought their hands round to their chest. "Wanna give them a little demo, brother?"

They quickly clamped the clips onto the nipples and pinched them hard. The two bodybuilders screamed and their torsos shot forward in agony. They flexed their pecs hard as the searing pain ripped through their massive chests like an electric current. Then the squeezing stopped and the pain lessened.

"Now you know. You two are gonna beat your meat. And if you don't shoot your load pretty damn quick your buddy's tits are gonna be ripped off. Got it? Better make it quick, assholes."

Mark and Randy knew what they had to do. They took hold of their dicks and started to pump. But they had already shot their loads a few minutes ago. They concentrated on their buddy's face, each one still glorious despite the oil, cum and piss running down it. They locked eyes, reading in them all the lust and passion that they had for each other. They had to make the other man cum despite the pain and agony of their torture.

The brutal pressure began again and the teeth of the clips bit savagely into their nipples. Again the agonized men screamed as intense pain shot through their bodies. They looked into each other's tortured eyes and pounded at their dicks. They knew this was their only means of release.

As the pain and their frantic effort continued they began to beg each other. Mark shuddered and moaned to Randy, "Please cum, man. God, the pain. I can't take it. Please, man, I beg you. Shoot your load."

Randy gasped, "I can't buddy. The pain's too much. I've got nothing left. Help me, man ... "

"Aargh ... " Their screams echoed again as the two brutes intensified the pressure on the clamps, twisting them viciously on the nipples. Hanging by one arm the men twisted and strained, their shoulders, arm and chest muscles bulging and streaming with sweat. As they pounded their cocks frantically they gazed at each other and it was as if their buddy was causing the agony to continue, as only he had the means of release.

Mark was close to collapse as he yelled at Randy. "For God's sake man, you're killing me. You're ripping me open. My chest is on fire. Have mercy on me, man. Shoot your load. Shit man. You said you loved me. If you love me make the pain stop."

That finally did it for Randy. He mercifully felt his cum rising from his balls, his cock shuddered and he pointed it at the tortured man's chest. A huge stream of white cream shot out and arced upward, splashing over the straining, flexing chest muscles, over the agonized nipples squeezed in the clamps.

Mark watched wide-eyed as his buddy bucked and heaved as he emptied his semen all over him. The sight had an instant effect on Mark who, with his own piercing scream, shot his load over Randy's massive chest. The pressure was immediately removed from the clamps and, though the sharp teeth still bit into their nipples, the pain became dull and bearable. The bodybuilders hung exhausted by one arm, bodies streaming with sweat, their heads bowed in abject misery.

"Shit damn," said Junior. "That was something else. We gonna play some more, Jake?"

"Nah, time for a break. You got those burgers outside? We'll go eat, leave these two assholes with something to think about. You ain't felt anything yet, faggots. Wait till we start again. You'll see what real pain is. Tie 'em up, Silas."

The three brothers went outside to eat their food and Randy and Mark were left alone. But new agonies were being inflicted. Both wrists were now tied to a single rope high above them and they faced each other about three feet apart. They were attached to each other in a brutal way. Ropes had been tied round their balls and brought together, pulling them toward each other. They arched their back and pushed their cocks forward as far as possible to ease the stretching of their balls. Their tits were also attached with a tight cord on the alligator clips pulling their chests together.

They strained their bulging, muscular bodies forward and tried not to move, as each movement sent shock waves of pain through their chest and balls. Their faces were twisted in pain and their flexing, bulging bodies streamed with sweat.

"Hang on, buddy," Randy groaned. He was agonized not only by his own physical pain but even more by the sight of the glorious muscle god, his buddy, broken, filthy, streaked with oil, piss and cum, his magnificent body racked with pain. All Mark could murmur was, "I love you, man."

They held each other's intense gaze as their glorious bodies stretched forward and they felt identical pain in their nipples and testicles. Randy had a chain loosely looped around his neck, hung there by Jake as a promise of new agonies to come. Both men knew that they could not endure much more torture.

The minutes dragged on and they were descending into a haze of pain and delirium. Through it all, though, Randy heard a scratching far above him. He strained to look up at the grimy skylight in the roof. He watched mesmerized as the small window started slowly to open, inch by inch. Finally it was thrown back and a face appeared. Randy thought he was hallucinating.

The face was Pablo's.

Randy shook his head and looked again. He was not going mad. It was the face of the boy they had rescued from this same hell hole. The face disappeared and the young man's legs came through the opening. He swung himself over a beam and eased himself along it to the hook supporting Randy. He pulled a knife from his belt and with some difficulty cut the rope.

Randy felt the blessed relief as his arms drops to his sides. His first reaction was to release his nipples from the agony of the clips, with a sharp intake of breath. Pablo was now by his side and he cut the rope attaching the men's balls. The relief was enormous but Randy had no time to enjoy it. There was a noise outside and Pablo whispered, "They're coming back."

Even though Randy's body was still racked with pain, and he had been close to collapse, adrenaline now shot through him, giving him a jolt of energy, and he sprang into life.

"Take care of Mark, kid. Then keep clear. I'll take care of this."

Heavy with food, the brothers burped as they came through the door. "What the fuck ... ?" yelled Jake. He stood stock still at the sight of the man before him. The big stud bodybuilder stood there buck naked, bruised body streaked with oil and sweat, his muscles heaving and flexing. Both hands were gripping the chain that had been looped around his neck. His eyes were ablaze and penetrated the gaze of the big thug.

With a guttural howl, part wounded animal, part war cry, Randy raised the chain and whirled it over his head. He brought it crashing down and it wrapped around Jake's bull neck. Randy yanked and the big man was dragged forward, straight into Randy's fist as it crashed into his face. Junior turned to flee but Randy brandished the chain again. It caught him around the chest and he slumped to the floor.

Pablo was trying to free Mark, but he saw Mark's eyes open wide as he nodded. Pablo turned to see Silas approaching Randy from behind. Like lightning Pablo picked up the tire iron Randy had dropped earlier. He took aim and with a wild swing smashed it into the man's gut. Silas screamed and fell forward.

Randy turned. "Thanks, kid. Now leave him to me." He became a wild animal, his intense fury fueled by rage and adrenaline. He became a machine of destruction, his magnificent naked body gleaming as he swung the chain and brought it crashing into the three men again and again. He reached down to Jake, pulled him up by the hair and smashed the back of his fist into his face.

Silas was trying to crawl away but Randy kicked him in the stomach. As he fell on his back screaming, Randy stomped hard on his chest, then reached down, pulled him up by his shirt and slammed his knee into his balls. The big man crashed to the ground unconscious.

Junior had recovered enough to pick up the tire iron and started to swing it. Randy reached out and grabbed it with one hand, pulling the thug close and leering into his face. "This is for my buddy, shithead." He clamped his big hands onto the sides of his face, holding it rigid. He looked into his eyes, then crashed his head forward in a vicious forehead smash. The thug's eyes opened wide, he paused, motionless, then fell backwards onto the floor, unconscious.

"You motherfuckers!" Randy screamed and whirled the chain, smashing it again and again into the slumped figures of the three brothers. "You fucking, sadistic shitheads. You whipped my buddy. I'll fucking kill you." He was totally out of control, with no sense of restraint or limits. He was truly a demon, face blazing with fury as he savagely attacked the broken men on the floor.

He finally became aware of a restraining hand on his arm. It was Mark, freed by Pablo, trying to calm the raging giant. Slowly Randy came to his senses and shook his head. He looked around him and became aware of where he was and who he was with. He looked at Mark, naked, filthy oil running over his magnificent bruised body. He gazed at him for a second, then fell forward and wrapped his big arms tightly around him, sobbing with relief and the draining adrenaline, knowing that his buddy was safe.

Pablo looked on in awe at the two huge, naked bodybuilders, their muscular bodies entwined, both shuddering in an ecstasy of release as their emotions overwhelmed them.

"How the fuck did you get here?"

The three men were outside, waiting for the cops that Mark had called. They had hosed themselves down and pulled on their pants and boots.

Pablo blinked and put on his rimless granny glasses. "Don't be angry, sir. I was with you at the house when you got the call on your cell phone. I could see by your face what it was. I know the Baxters. I lived with them. I know what they can do. I also knew you would go out there."

"You know a lot, kid," Randy grinned.

"More thank you think, sir. Anyway, I knew you wouldn't take me with you so I ran into the garage and hid under that pile of blankets in your truck. Jeez, you drive fast. I was thrown all over the place. Then we got here and those goons took you and there was nothing I could do. I had to wait until they went out of the garage. The only way in without being seen was the skylight."

"But I had to wait and listen to what they were doing to you. I heard you ... I imagined what they were doing. I knew they were hurting you but there was nothing I could do while they were there. I'm sorry, sir. I ..." and tears began to roll down his cheeks.

Randy stepped forward and held him in a bear hug. "Pablo. You saved our lives. You were incredibly brave. You're a man's man. You really are one of us, now. Forever, kiddo." He ruffled his hair. "You'll get your reward when we're back home."

Pablo pulled back and dried his tears. "Thank you, sir. Thing is, sir. I love you." He turned to Mark. "And you, sir. You're so beautiful. I ..."

But he was stopped by Mark who came forward, hugged him, then kissed him hard on the lips. "You're beautiful, Pablo. I'm honored to have you as a buddy."

Hours later, they were on their way home. Pablo sat between the two big, muscular shirtless guys in the truck, each one with an arm thrown over the young man's shoulders. He had never felt happier in his life.

TO BE CONTINUED in "A TRIAL OF STRENGTH ... Part 27".