A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH -- PART 33 By Rob Williams.

IN THIS CHAPTER ... Darius gets to act out his most vivid cop fantasies with the muscle god Mark. He gazes at the cop, stripped to his underwear. "God, that's beautiful. I'll be beating off to that image for years." Pablo works as Randy's boy, his body slave, and earns a special reward. Bob shows off his perfect body for Randy. And the house is stunned by a violent intrusion.

Now read on, and remember, send me your feedback and suggestions to rw6789@aol.com. Enjoy ...

A Trial Of Strength -- Chapter 33

Deep in sleep in the bright moonlight Pablo had a smile on his face as he nestled against the hard body of the construction worker who had taken possession of his body, mind and spirit. In his dream-filled sleep, the thrill of serving as Randy's slave for the coming weekend kept his cock hard all night.

Meanwhile, high in the Angeles Forest by the moonlit lake Darius was having his own fantasies fulfilled by the stunningly beautiful cop, Mark. He had clung to the muscular body as the Harley motor cycle sped out of town. On a remote stretch of the Angeles Crest Highway they had finally turned off onto the bumpy dirt road until they reached the silent lake. Now they stood on the small beach gazing out at the expanse of water shimmering in the bright light of the full moon.

The night was still warm even up this high and Mark shook off his shirt, stripping down to the white tank stretched over his magnificent torso. He put his arm around the young man's shoulders. "Well, buddy, here we are, all alone up here for the whole weekend, just the two of us. Happy, kid?"

Darius nodded slowly. "It's like a fantasy."

Mark smiled. "Is that so? You know what Bob calls you?"

"No, sir."

"'The King of Fantasy'." Darius laughed. Mark grinned down at him. "Maybe we should put that to the test, see if Bob's right."

"Whatever you say, sir."

"Having the Harley between my legs always makes my cock hard. Think you can do something about that?"

"Definitely, sir."

"OK, tell me one of your fantasies ... something you've never told anyone."

Darius smiled shyly and hesitated. "Well, sir, you being a cop and all, and the most beautiful cop I've ever seen, I have jacked off sometimes thinking about ... nah, you'd never go for that."

"Try me," Mark said simply. Haltingly Darius stammered a description of the image he saw in his mind when he beat off. Embarrassed he hung his head. Mark cupped the young man's chin in his hand and raised his head. "Sounds great. Let's go for it."

A few minutes later Darius stared at the big tree at the edge of the lake. His breathing became ragged. Oh, God," he said. "It's better than I ever imagined it. Oh, man," and he reached down to rub his dick through his jeans.

What he saw gleaming in the bright moonlight was an iconic image that would make many men shoot their load on the spot. Mark had stripped down to his underwear. His white ribbed tank top outlined the contours of his perfectly sculptured torso. White stretch boxer briefs went midway down his thighs and clung to the bulging muscles of his legs. Barefoot, he had his back to the tree, arms stretched back around the trunk, wrists bound. He looked at Darius.

"How's that?" he asked softly. Testing his wrist restraints he tried to look behind him and struggled, making his incredible body flex and strain beneath his underwear. His shoulder muscles rippled, his biceps bulged and, as his face twisted from side to side, his tangle of blond hair fell across his god-like features. The realization hit him that he was the captive of this beautiful black man and a frown crossed his face as he looked up at him.

Darius had to stop himself from shooting his load right on the spot, and he moaned out loud. "Oh, man. I've never seen anything like that. I've tried to imagine a cop stripped to his underwear, lashed to a tree and at my mercy, but I never came close to this. It's unbelievable. Let me just look at you, man. Now, try to get free."

The big cop began to struggle in earnest, pulling his wrists hard against the back of the tree. Every muscular sinew of his body strained under his tank and briefs as he pulled harder and harder. He took a step forward so his arms were stretched way back behind him, making his shoulders bulge as he lowered his head and groaned.

As he pulled on his arms, his knees began to buckle and his bound wrists started to slide down the tree behind him. He sank lower and lower until he finally fell to his knees. His arms were now stretched high up behind, his shoulders bulging to their limit, and he had difficulty raising his head to look at his captor.

"Fuck you, asshole," he breathed as he hung from his restraints. He was starting to sweat and his muscles began to gleam in the moonlight. Wet patches spread slowly over the front of his tank top and around the bulging crotch of his briefs. To ease the pain in his legs he brought one out in front of him, so he was now kneeling on one knee. He finally brought the other leg forward too and he sat against the tree, looking up at the black man towering over him.

Darius was in a trance. He looked down at the cop and said. "You are fucking gorgeous. And you're all mine. I can use you however I want to. You're helpless. The big, beautiful cop is helpless. He's my prisoner."

"Fuck you," Mark yelled. "Let me go. What are you gonna do to me, man?"

Darius stepped forward and placed his foot against the bulge on the crotch of the cop's briefs. He felt the rock hard cock underneath and pressed against it. As the pressure increased the cop's face twisted in pain and he yelled, "No, you're crushing my cock." His handsome face tossed from side to side and his body strained to get free.

Darius grinned at him. "You gonna do what I tell you, asshole?'

"Yes, you fucker, yes," Mark yelled.

"Wrong answer," Darius said and pressed harder with his foot.

"OK, OK ... Yes, sir. Please, sir. I'll do whatever you say."

"That's better," Darius said. "Now, get back on your knees."

With difficulty Mark pulled first one leg behind him then the other until he was back on his knees, leaning back against the tree, breathing hard and looking up at Darius. The young black man sneered down at him.

"Well look at you. The big, gorgeous, tough cop. Don't look so tough now, do you, big guy? Jeez, if all those guys who worship the big cop could just see him now, stripped to his underwear, lashed to a tree. Look at me, asshole. What have you got to say?"

Mark's sweat stained face looked up and he groaned, "Thank you sir. I'm nothing, sir. Use me." He watched as the muscular black man took a step back and unbuttoned the fly of his jeans. The cop's eyes widened as he saw the monster shaft fall out, huge, rigid, pulsing. Darius stood over the defeated man and pointed his cock down at his face. Mark's body tensed and he groaned. "No, not that. Please."

Darius ignored him and a dribble of hot urine fell from his cock. It became a stream, pouring downward to the cop's face. It splashed into the sculpted features and golden hair. Then Darius lowered his cock and the gush of rancid piss poured over the man's chest, soaking the white tank top, turning it transparent so the muscles showed through clearly. Then down lower, over the cotton boxer briefs, soaking the crotch and revealing the rigid dick pulsing underneath.

What had been pristine white underwear was now soaked with piss and clung to every sinew of the cop's body. He lifted his face, streaming with warm urine, and looked at the towering black man. The powerful bodybuilder, always in charge, was now groveling, piss-soaked on his knees.

"Thank you, sir," he moaned.

"Stand up," Darius ordered.

Mark pushed himself against the tree and strained to ease himself upward. His huge thighs bulged and strained under his briefs as his legs flexed and his soaking body slowly rose until he was once again upright. Darius stepped back and gazed at the incredible sight, the gorgeous, powerful cop stripped to his underwear, soaked from head to foot in stinking urine, wrists still bound behind the tree. He looked at Darius awaiting his fate.

Darius knew what Mark wanted. Slowly the black man began to strip. He kicked off his boots, then dropped his jeans and stepped out of them. He too was now in just his underwear, a white sleeveless muscle T-shirt and white briefs. He pushed his cock back inside and Mark gazed at the huge bulge in his crotch. His own cock showed rigid through the soaked, transparent cotton of his briefs.

Darius smiled at Mark. "You look fucking awesome, man. You wanna cum?" Mark smiled back. "What do you think, asshole?"

Darius walked forward, his eyes riveted to Mark's. Their gaze never wavered as he pressed his body against the soaked underwear stretched over the muscular body of the cop. Their chests were pressed so hard together they felt the beat of the other's heart. But what they felt most was their pulsing dicks pressed hard against each other through the crotch of their briefs.

Darius raised himself on his toes, then back down again as he rubbed his crotch against the soaking crotch of the cop. Under the wet cotton their cocks ground together harder and harder until they could feel the burning sensation pass between them. They smiled at each other as their body strained and flexed against each other through their underwear. Finally Mark said, "You ready?"

"You bet," breathed Darius and screamed loud as his big cock erupted inside his briefs. Simultaneously, Mark threw his head back, blond hair wet against his forehead and his own stream of come exploded in his boxer briefs and spread a huge stain over the wet cotton fabric.

As their rods poured with creamy liquid in their underwear the men laughed at each other in the exhilaration of release. Their bodies heaved for a long time until they were finally still. Mark grinned at Darius. "How was that for a fantasy, kid? Get you off OK?"

Darius beamed. "You are fucking incredible, sir. I have never in my life seen anything more beautiful. I'll be beating off to that image for years to come."

A few minutes later they were standing at the edge of the lake, looking out over the moonlit water that was now being ruffled by a stiff, warm breeze. "Santa Anas are kicking up," said Mark, referring to the hot dry winds that periodically hit Southern California, sweeping in off the desert and through the mountain passes. "Wanna go for a swim, wash off some of this piss and cum?"

"Right behind you, sir."

They fell into the water and swam with relaxed strokes, Mark relieving the crampness in his muscles that had been bound and stretched. When they came back and strode up the small beach they were a sight to behold, two perfectly built men, the one a golden, muscular bodybuilder, the other a tall, black-skinned young man with a long, lean sinewy body. They were both still in their underwear, now soaking wet, clinging transparently to their sculpted frames, showing every perfect contour of their bodies etched underneath.

Breathing hard from the exertion of the swim Mark looked at Darius. "My turn now. We gotta get out of these wet clothes, and you're gonna help me. First one who's naked gets fucked by the other, deal?"

"Deal," grinned Darius and reaching low, grabbed Mark's leg and through him off balance. The big cop sprawled on the beach and rolled over, covering his soaking white shirt and briefs in wet sand. Darius was on top of him in an instant, but Mark's superior size and strength quickly overpowered him. The two bodies grappled, rolling over and over in the sand, grabbing, clawing at each other's underclothes that were now streaked with dirt and gravel.

The whistling of the hot wind barely masked the sound of the panting men and the ripping of wet cloth as the underwear started to come apart. Darius's shirt came first, as Mark grabbed the neck and yanked it downward, pulling it clear off in one stroke. Shirtless now, Darius lunged at Mark's shoulder and managed to tear away one shoulder. They sprang to their feet and circled warily, Darius in just his dirt-stained briefs and Mark with his tank hanging from one shoulder.

They crashed together again and Darius twisted suddenly to get the upper hand. He pushed at the cop's big body and grabbed for his waist as he fell. His hand clutched the tank and the boxer briefs, ripping the shirt clean off and tearing one leg of the briefs up to the waist. Mark was clearly on the losing end of the struggle. But as he sprang back to his feet he lunged forward and body checked the young black man, sending him sprawling on the ground.

Darius looked up at the towering cop and the sight made his cock hard. Nearly naked now, his wet muscles gleaming in the moonlight, all he had left was his shredded briefs hanging loosely on one leg. One more rip from Darius would clinch the fight, but instead he lay sprawled on the ground and gazed mutely upward.

Mark stood over him, his chest heaving. Calmly he reached down to the waist of Darius's briefs and, with one mighty wrench, ripped them clean off, holding them up as a trophy of his victory. The naked black man looked up at the Greek god and smiled. Mark grinned back down at him.

"You let me win, you fucker. Why?"

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. Another fantasy of mine is getting fucked by a cop."

Back in the city the full moon was being replaced by a warm rising sun in the early morning. The Santa Ana winds had picked up, bringing more dry heat and making the palm fronds stream sideways from the bending trees. The wind raced over the sleeping form of the dark muscular man stretched out on his back on the lawn. Randy stirred and reached over for Bob. Then he remembered that Bob was away, and memories of Pablo and the night before flooded over him. He reached out for Pablo, but he was not there either.

Randy heard a door slam in the wind and he pulled himself up on his elbows. The sight of Pablo walking toward him made his dick stir as it always did. The boy was naked, except that he was again wearing round his neck the dog collar he had pulled out of his pocket the night before. Randy understood. Pablo wanted to demonstrate his commitment to being his master's slave.

He was carrying a large tray, with an elaborate breakfast on it. He smiled and lay the tray on the lawn beside the big, naked construction worker.

"Breakfast, sir."

"Thanks, kid. Here," and he patted the ground beside him.

Pablo sat beside him and looked up at the trees. "This wind is something else, sir. Kind of makes you nervous, makes your flesh crawl."

Randy laughed. "You've been reading Raymond Chandler."

"Uh?"

"Never heard of him? We've gotta do something about your education, kiddo. Bob reads a lot. I'll have him make up a list of books you should read. It was Bob who read me the bit from Raymond Chandler about the Santa Ana winds. I remember it by heart. Wanna hear it? ... It's a great description."

"Please, sir."

"OK, here goes ... `It was one of those hot dry Santa Anas that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every booze party ends in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands' necks. Anything can happen'."

Pablo's eyes shone. "Wow. Think we're gonna end up in a fight? I better hide the carving knife."

"Well ... `anything can happen,' the book says.

Pablo moved closer to his master and, as they both wolfed down their breakfast their conversation flowed easily. Last night had been a physical and emotional experience they would never forget. Relaxed now, they were getting to know each other better.

"I remember Bob reading that piece to me one morning in bed with the wind howling outside."

"You really love Bob, don't you, sir."

"He's my life, kiddo. I hope one day you can feel something like that for Darius."

"When I'm older, sir, I want to be like you."

"No you don't, kid. It's tough being me."

"I know, sir."

"How would you know a thing like that?"

"Because, sir, in a way I've had to be like you all my life. As I was shunted from one foster home to the next I've always been alone ... had to take care of myself. I used to feel that if I wasn't tough I'd have disappeared. I think you called it an `alpha male', sir. That's what I had to become, just to survive."

Randy smiled. "I realized that about you from the moment I saw you confront those assholes, the Baxters. That's why I love you kiddo. We're very alike, you know.'

"But the thing is, sir, that's why last night was so great. For the first time I was able to stop being tough." He hesitated. "It's hard to describe, sir."

"Try, kiddo."

"See, I was able to submit to another man, give myself to you. And, sir, it was such a relief. I was in your power. I had to do whatever you wanted. I made no decisions. I was able to become a slave. You'll always be my master, sir. As long as I know you."

"A you sure you're only 21, kid? You seem to have it all worked out."

The cheeky grin returned to Pablo's face. "You should try it sometime, sir. Give yourself up completely to the power of another guy."

Randy gazed at Pablo and there was a long silence. Deep in thought Randy said, "There's only one guy in the world I could do that with."

Pablo smiled again. "I know, sir. I wish I could be there when you ask Bob to .... well, you know, sir."

Randy let that thought just hang in the air. He looked up and touched the collar round Pablo's neck. "Where did you get this?" "Is there a story in there?"

"It was meant for Billy."

Randy was surprised by a sudden pang of jealousy. He asked sharply, "Who's Billy?"

"He was my dog sir, at my last foster home. A Doberman puppy, black and brown. He was the only thing I ever loved in my life before you brought me here, sir. We were buddies, did everything together. I bought the collar for when he got bigger."

"What happened to him?"

"When they sold me to the Baxters they wouldn't let me take him ... but I kept his collar. I guess he still lives there. Must be three of four by now." His eyes misted up as a lump came to his throat. "I miss him every day, sir." He swallowed hard and tried to hold back the tears that started to well in his eyes. Randy took the beautiful young face in his hands and gazed into his eyes.

"Hey, Pablo. You can let go with me, you know. It's just you and me right now. You can let go."

Suddenly all the toughness Pablo had built up over the years dissolved as he looked at the man who was his master. All the hidden pain and loneliness spilled over and he fell against Randy's body with tears streaming down his face. He let himself be held and his body was racked with sobs. He gave himself to his master, became naked in his arms as he cried all the tears that he had held back over the years.

He had truly given in to the man he worshipped, let Randy see him in all his defenseless, his emotions stripped bare. Randy fought back his own tears as he cradled the sobbing boy in his arms, feeling the tears pour onto his chest. "That's it, kiddo," he said softly. "Now we really know each other. Hold on to me. I'll always take care of you. That's a promise."

Even though they were both strong, tough alpha males, the two men held on to each with a tenderness and gentleness that they would never show to the rest of the world. It would bind them together forever.

Randy's mind raced and his jaw clenched. He knew what he had to do next for this kid.

For the rest of the weekend the Santa Ana winds blew, adding an `anything-can-happen' edge to their time together. The two men remained naked the whole time, except of course for the collar around Pablo's neck. Pablo was in every sense Randy's servant, his boy, his body slave. He bathed him, cooked for him, responded instantly to his every need and whim.

The young man's body was alert to his master's every physical desire and his ass was always available. Randy took advantage of it often, sliding his demanding cock between the perfect mounds whenever he wanted, day or night.

They did not talk much. Their relationship had been established and each instinctively played his part. It was a perfect weekend. But it ended of course. Late Sunday afternoon they were in the pool and Randy said, "Come here kid." Up to his chest in the water Pablo walked forward into his master's arms. Randy held him tight in a long, passionate embrace.

"Just remember what I've said this weekend, kid. I'm always here for you. You're mine, and soon you'll be my son. I'll always love and protect you, OK?"

Pablo looked up into the translucent blue eyes and said simply, "Thank you sir." No more words were needed.

Randy unbuckled the collar from Pablo's neck. "I'll hang on to this," he said.

After the intensity of the weekend there was an almost visible glow around Randy as he drove to Burbank Airport to pick up Bob. They had not spent two days apart since they first met and Randy was aching to see him. In the small terminal he waited impatiently just outside the security area and looked down the long corridor to the gates. And he turned more than a few heads. Dressed in jeans, boots and a sleeveless flannel shirt he towered over the crowd, many of who wondered who this incredible looking man could be meeting.

Finally the wait paid off. Randy saw the crowd of passengers coming from the San Francisco flight, and caught sight of the handsome business executive striding among them in his tailored business suit and tie. "Jesus, Randy thought, it's Clark fucking Kent." He saw that Bob too turned many heads of his fellow passengers. In fact two young girls ran up to him giggling and he had a few smiling words with them.

Finally he came through the barrier, saw Randy's beaming smile and the two men hugged warmly. Again the crowd gazed at the two men greeting each other. So that was who the big, muscular man had been waiting for. Well, that figured. They were after all the two most stunning men in the airport.

"God it's good to see you," Randy whispered.

Bob held him at arm's length. "And judging by the glow around you, you had a hell of a weekend."

"Yeah," Randy grinned. "We'll talk. What did those girls want?"

Bob blushed. "They'd never been to Los Angeles before. Wanted to know if I was a movie star."

Randy laughed. "I hope you told them `yes'."

They were soon in the truck driving home. "So how did your meetings go?" Randy asked. "You look like the cat that licked the cream."

Bob smiled. "Oh, well enough. So well in fact that you're looking at the brand new Senior Vice President for Southern California operations."

Randy grinned. "Well it's about fucking time. I could have told those assholes that you were fucking brilliant as well as totally gorgeous. They should've made you king of the company."

By chance they arrived at the house just as Mark's motor bike skidded to a halt and he and Darius took off their helmets. But the four men's greeting was short. Randy knew exactly what he needed. He grabbed Bob by the tie and led him swiftly through the garden and upstairs to their room.

Randy flopped down in his big armchair and gazed at the big businessman. "Let me just look at you, man. That's what I need. You know, when I saw all those people at the airport gazing at you in awe, you know what I wanted to yell at them?"

"No, but I'm sure you'll tell me."

"I wanted to shout, "Hands off, people! He's mine. He belongs to me."

Bob grinned. "The important thing is that I knew it. So what are you gonna do about it?"

"Well, let's see. They were all ogling you, but now I get to really get to look at you in my own special way ... long and hard."

"Oh, you are?"

"Well, not just you. I'm gonna be looking at the brand new senior vice-president, and you know what he's gonna be doing?"

"I have a fair idea."

"'Course you do. He's gonna be looking in the mirror getting off on himself."

Without another word Bob turned to the mirror and looked at himself, still in his smart blue business suit, tie loosened a little, his top shirt button undone. He had to admit, he looked pretty stunning. Randy had trained him to get off on the mirror image of himself, and he felt his cock stiffen in his shorts. His eyes moved from his own reflection to Randy sprawled in the chair, then back to the mirror.

He reached down, unzipped his fly, opened his pants and shorts and pulled out his already raging cock. As he began to stroke it he caught sight of Randy pulling out his big rod and holding it in his fist. They were both horny as hell and it didn't take long.

As he beat his meat Bob concentrated on his own fine features, saw the outline of his broad shoulders and muscular torso under his business clothes. He shrugged off his jacket, undid his tie and let it hang round his neck. He slowly unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it apart to expose the hard chiseled mounds of his pecs.

"God, you're beautiful," he said to his mirror image. That did it for Randy. He was blown away by the gorgeous man, his man, making love to his own reflection. He felt the blood and fire rising in his dick and he moaned. Bob heard this and turned from the mirror. He took a step forward, and gazed down at the construction worker sprawled in the chair.

"Here it comes, buddy," he said, and a long stream of creamy cum spurted from his cock, splashing down on Randy's face, his chest and arms and all over his shirt. Randy's orgasm was simultaneous and as his own cock exploded the shout of pure joy could be heard by the other three guys downstairs.

Randy grinned up at his exhilarated lover. "Welcome home ... movie star.

Darius and Pablo had run off to their pool house chatting excitedly. "Dude, just wait `til I tell you everything we did." "No, me first, you'll never believe ..." and the door closed behind them.

The three big guys smiled and Randy spoke. "You, guys. Before we get cleaned up and have dinner I need to speak to you. There's a lot I want to discuss, big things, but there's one thing that's urgent. Mark do you still see that girl in Family Services?"

Mark blushed a little. "Sure I do, sure. Why?"

"Do you think you could find out from her the address of Pablo's last foster home?"

"Sure. That should be no problem at all."

It was two days later and everyone had just got home from work, everyone except Randy who had left work early and taken off alone. In a short while they heard the truck skid to a halt. Randy came in and looked at Darius.

"Hey punk, you remember how I said I was gonna give my truck to you?" He tossed the keys to him. "Well, it's yours. Bob and I are gonna buy a new one tomorrow. I'm gonna need something bigger for the project I have in mind."

Darius's eyes opened wide. "Wow, really? Oh wow, thank you sir. I don't know what to say exactly ..."

"Don't say anything, punk. Just don't wreck it, OK?" Now come outside, all of you. I have something for you too, Pablo. They followed him out and Randy stood by the door of the truck. "Ready?" he said. He opened the door and out bounded a three-year-old black and brown Doberman. It stood for a second disoriented, but then spotted Pablo and howled. Pablo yelled, "Billy!"

The dog threw himself at Pablo and knocked him over. The two rolled over on the ground with Pablo shedding tears that Billy lapped off his face with his big wet tongue. The other four men gazed in awe at the sight.

Bob turned to Randy. "How in hell did you swing that?"

Randy grinned. "You remember Mark gave me the address of his last foster home? I just went there. I wasn't gonna take no for an answer ... you know me. Hell, those mother fuckers were quick enough to sell Pablo to the Baxters. They sure as hell weren't gonna stop me from taking the dog."

Form his pocket he pulled the collar he had earlier taken from Pablo's neck and tossed it down to him. "Here, kid. You're gonna need this."

Bob felt tears coming to his eyes and he shook his head. "You son-of-a-bitch."

The frenzy finally died down and Pablo pulled himself to his feet. "Sit," he commanded and Billy sat obediently at his heel. Pablo dried his eyes and looked up at Randy, fixing him with a penetrating gaze. As their eyes met an unspoken, intense intimacy flashed between them. There were no words. They both knew instinctively what the other was feeling. Pablo reached up and lightly ran his fingers down Randy's forearm.

"Go," Randy said softly. "Introduce him to Darius."

Darius walked forward and Pablo said, rather formally, "Billy, this is my best buddy Darius. We're all gonna live together."

From that moment on Pablo and Billy were inseparable. The dog followed him everywhere. Where you found one you would find the other. The only place Pablo would not let him come to was the garage when he was working on a messy car job. He had tried that and Billy wound up covered in engine oil. Took hours to get him clean.

So it happened a few days later that Pablo was working alone in the garage and he had left Billy pacing the floor in the pool house. It was late afternoon and nobody else was home yet. Mark was finishing his shift and Bob and Randy were out taking the new truck for a test drive. Pablo had the house to himself. He had rolled himself under Mark's truck and was doing an oil change. He was surprised to hear the garage door open, and then he froze as he heard voices.

"Well will you look at that. It's him alright."

Pablo quickly pulled himself from under the truck and stared up at two figures he recognized instantly. It was the skinheads he and Randy had thrashed a few weeks ago. They had come across them beating up a young Mexican guy on the street and had made short, brutal work of them, leaving them beaten and humiliated in the gutter soaked in urine.

"Hey, faggot. Didn't think you'd be seeing us again, did ya? We found out where you live. And this time you don't have the big guy to protect your sorry ass."

Pablo was quick. Still on his back, his foot shot out and his boot connected with the balls of one of them. The guy screamed, doubled over and fell to his knees. Pablo sprang to his feet and grabbed the second guy in a vice-like head lock, bringing his knee up under him crashing into his chest.

He knew the guy was weakening and couldn't take much more, but suddenly an arm came round Pablo's neck from behind and he felt the cold touch of steel at his throat. The first guy had recovered and pulled a big, serrated knife that he held hard against Pablo's neck. He froze, unable to move or the blade would cut him. The other guy staggered to his feet and also produced a knife that he waved in front of Pablo's face.

The thug breathed heavily, and finally got his wind back. "Well," he sneered. "So here we are, and we've got ourselves another faggot. This one's real pretty. Be a real pity to cut that face, but hell, that never stopped us before. This is payback time, asshole. Pablo winced as the knife came close to his face.

Then suddenly ... "Freeze!"

They whirled round and stopped in their tracks, paralyzed by what they saw. Despite the danger he was in Pablo could not believe that his dick stirred. Mark stood in full uniform, legs apart, with both arms thrust forward to steady the gun he was holding. The magnificent cop was an awesome sight, stunningly beautiful, powerful and in total command.

"Drop the weapons, assholes. NOW!"

TO BE CONTINUED IN "A Trial Of Strength -- Part 34"