A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH -- PART 34 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER: ... The skinheads attack Pablo and Randy takes revenge, spectacular revenge. "Thing is, guys, I didn't appreciate you shitholes roughing up my boy. Then I get mad and I get rough." Afterwards, Randy shows the whole house who's boss. But Bob has other ideas. "You should relax, Randy, let someone else be master for a while." "No way you'll ever make me submit." "Try me," Bob says.

Now read on, and don't forget, guys. Send me your comments and suggestions to rw6789@aol.com. Enjoy...

A Trial Of Strength - Part 34

"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 working in the garage. He was alone in the house except for his Doberman, Billy, who was locked in the pool house. He instantly recognized the two skinheads. A few weeks previously he and Randy had come across them beating up a young Mexican in the street and they had thrashed the punks savagely, leaving them beaten and humiliated in the gutter.

Now Pablo didn't hesitate ... he put up a hell of a fight. He had kicked one thug to the ground while he held the other in a vice-like head lock. But then 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. The other guy pulled a knife too.

"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!"

There was a frozen moment where nobody moved. The thug behind Pablo still held the knife to his throat. But Pablo took advantage of the hesitation and slammed his elbow backward into his assailant's stomach. The skinhead screamed and dropped the knife. Terrified, now, the other thug threw his knife on the floor. Mark moved swiftly forward and kicked the knives skidding away to the wall.

"On the floor, on your belly, NOW!" he shouted.

The skinheads dropped to their knees, then onto their stomachs, arms and legs spread-eagled. Mark quickly pulled handcuffs from his belt and secured their arms behind their backs. He yanked them up and pulled them across the floor until they were sitting against the wall. Pablo tossed him some rope and Mark bound their ankles.

Mark turned to Pablo. "You OK, Pablo?"

"Never better, sir. I almost had them sir. I would've beaten them except for the knives."

"I know, kid. I saw enough to know you would have taken them both down. I'm real proud of you."

"Sir ... will you tell that to Randy?"

A deep voice growled, "Tell what to Randy?"

They looked up to see Randy and Bob standing in the open doorway.

"What the fuck...?" Randy looked down at the prisoners huddled against the wall. "What are these slime-balls doing here?"

Quickly Mark filled Randy in on what had happened, making sure to add that Pablo would have thrashed them if they hadn't produced knives.

"Of course he would. He's my boy." Randy did not take his eyes off the skinheads. They looked up at the massive construction worker with fear in their eyes. Finally Randy spoke.

"You fucking pieces of shit. You dare to come here and threaten my boy? Nobody messes with my property and lives to tell about it. You're damn lucky you're in the custody of the police officer here or right about now I'd be beating the living crap out of you." He turned to Mark. "What'll you charge them with Mark?"

"Well, let's see. Breaking and entering, of course. Assault and battery. Assault with a deadly weapon. Hostage taking. Hell, a good D.A. can bump it all the way up to attempted murder. No question, these guys are looking at serious prison time. Look at them. Wouldn't give much for their chances inside."

Randy glared at them and said to Mark. "No chance you could give me an hour with them before you call for backup?"

"Sorry, buddy. You know the rules. They're in my custody."

"Er ..." In the background Bob cleared his throat. He had watched all this in silence. His vision was not clouded by Randy's blazing anger and, as usual, he saw a different slant to the situation. "Could I have a quick word with you guys over here?"

They were distracted by the frantic barking of Billy locked in the pool house. Randy said to Pablo. "Hey, kid. Go get your dog before he breaks the door down. Bring him here and keep him on a short leash."

Pablo left and the three guys went over to the corner of the garage where Bob spoke softly. He had a radical idea. Could Mark release the prisoners into Randy's custody? "Don't charge them for now ... leave it hanging over them. Randy, you said you were going to have to hire a couple of day laborers to help finish the construction of the new house, do the grunt work. Why not use these guys?" Bob asked.

"Have you totally lost your fucking mind?" Randy hissed. "Give these assholes houseroom when they almost killed my boy? I'd just as soon wring their fucking necks."

Mark frowned. "Just a minute, buddy. Bob may have a point. You know I'm a great advocate for rehabilitation and if these guys are sent to prison they'll end up career criminals for the rest of their lives. It would be a stretch but I can bend the rules and let them off with a warning and deliver them into your custody. You'd have to take full responsibility for them."

The nervous skinheads watched the three guys in intense conversation. When it was over the men walked over to them and Mark explained the proposition.

"Right now you're in my custody and normally I'd haul your sorry asses off to jail. But these men have offered to take you off my hands."

Randy took over. "We're gonna give you shitheads a choice. Jail time, or working here. In jail you'll be two new pieces of meat. Here you'll answer to me. But make no mistake. The officer here plays by the rules. I don't ... never have. Don't even know what the rules are. One false move, one small step over the line and I'll beat the shit out of you. It won't be pretty. I'll whip your asses and then do something to them that'll make you feel like the "faggots" you enjoy abusing."

Pablo came in with Billy. The dog instantly snarled at the skinheads and bared his teeth.

Randy continued. "This here is Billy. Seems he doesn't like you, and you just tried to cut his best friend, Pablo. One wrong move by you dick-heads and Billy will likely cut you, with these," and Randy reached down and drew back Billy's lips to display the snarling teeth."

"So that's your choice. You take your chances with the big guys in prison or you stay here and take your chances with me. What's it to be?"

One of the skinheads croaked. "We'll stay here."

"Wrong answer!" yelled Randy. "Try that again."

The skinhead flinched. "We'd like to stay here, sir. Please, sir. Don't send us to jail."

"That's better. And remember, while you're in this house you will address everyone here as `sir' ... everyone ... including the dog. Do I make myself clear?"

Both skinheads said loudly together, "Yes, Sir!"

It didn't take long. The new building was partially completed, including a basement room that would eventually be used for storage. For now it was to be the skinheads' new home, and they were locked inside. Mark had given them a final warning that it needed only one word from Randy and they could still go to jail.

Mark had gone off to change and Randy looked at Pablo. His eyes became moist and he took the boy in his arms. "Jesus, Pablo. When I think what could have ... Hell, I don't wanna lose you, kid."

"No fear of that sir. I nearly had them sir, you should've seen. I had one on the ground and I was choking the other. He was almost down."

"I know, kid. Mark told me. I'm real proud of you."

"Thank you, sir. Er ... any suggestions?"

Randy smiled at him. "Yeah. OK, so there are two of them. You've taken one down, he's on the ground, and you're working on the other. But you should always watch the first guy out of the corner of your eye. He might recover quicker than you think. A second boot to the balls would have been a good idea. Got it?"

"Got it, sir. I'll remember that."

Randy ruffled his hair and laughed. "Hell, remind me never to get on your bad side, kiddo."

Just then the gate opened and Darius came home from work. "Hey, what's going on? Did I miss something?"

Randy and Pablo laughed. "Fill him in, kid. Then you two get dinner ready. Don't wait for me." He clenched his jaw. "I'm finally gonna get my hour with the assholes in the basement."

As the two surly youths huddled in silence on the basement floor, the door crashed open and Randy stood there, glowering down at them. They could see the cold fury in his eyes. He took the measure of them, both pale, lean and muscular, their heads shaved, and a cold, hard look in their eyes.

"Stand up," he ordered. He held up the knives he had picked up off the garage floor. "Now, these are the knives you were gonna use to cut my boy. You fucking cowards, two against one and you still needed weapons. You're lucky the cop intervened. If you had harmed my boy I would have killed you. As it is, I think we should take up the fight where you left off. Only this time it'll be me."

Randy threw the knives across the floor to them. In one sudden move he pulled his T-shirt off and towered over them stripped to the waist. He banged his hands against his huge chest.

"OK, here it is, boys. It's all yours. The body is yours to cut, as you were gonna cut Pablo." They hesitated. "Well come on ... Let's see what you got."

The skinheads picked up the knives and started to circle Randy. They swiped at him with the knives, took stabs at his naked chest, but always he stepped out of range just in time. He taunted them. "Is that all you got, assholes? No wonder my boy was able to whip your ass. You're pathetic ... pieces of shit."

As Randy intended, this remark angered them and one came close and raised his knife to strike. Calmly Randy reached out, grabbed his wrist and wrenched the guy's arm behind his back and yanked it brutally upward. The guy screamed and dropped the knife.

Remembering what he had told Pablo Randy kept his eye on the other thug, who was raising his arm to strike. Still holding the first guy in a vice, he kicked upward and his boot knocked the knife flying out of his hand. He shifted his grip on the first guy and threw him hard against the other, so they both went crashing against the wall. They looked in terror at the shirtless bodybuilder standing over them and knew they were finished.

But Randy wasn't finished. He was only just beginning. He picked up the knives and held one to each of their throats, pricking the skin.

"So, here's what it feels like, assholes. Maybe I should do to your faces what you were gonna do to my boy, uh? What d'ya say, uh?"

Terrorized, one of them spoke. "No, sir. Please, sir. Please don't. We'll do anything you say, sir."

"Damn right you will."

He threw down the knives and stared at them. Then he raised his arm and slammed the back of his hand across the face of first one, then the other. They reeled against the wall.

"That was for my boy. Now this is from me." And again he slammed them, again and again until they were spinning round the room, totally defenseless against the fury of this big demon of a man. They groaned and sobbed as the beating continued. Randy gut punched them mercilessly, then administered the final blow, a vicious knee to the groin that send them crashing to the floor, doubled up in pain.

They sobbed and begged. "No more, sir ... please, sir ... we're begging you ... don't hurt us no more."

Randy stood over them, his chest heaving, eyes blazing with rage.

"Any of the guys in this house could tell you that I play rough. And it gets rougher than this. Stand up." They staggered to their feet. "Now, strip naked."

Without hesitation they shed their clothes and stood naked before him. "You, kneel," Randy barked. When one skinhead was kneeling in front of the other, Randy said, "Now, what was it the man said about making the punishment fitting the crime? Let's see. The thing is, you hate what you like to call `faggots', right? You enjoy beating up on them. Ever wonder what it feels like to be a faggot? Ever wonder that, asshole?"

"No sir," groaned one of them.

"Well, it's about time you found out." To the guy kneeling he said, "Open your mouth ... wide." And to the other, "Take hold of your dick. Put it in his mouth."

The skinhead opened his eyes wide and was about to protest but Randy raised his hand and the man quickly stepped forward and slid his dick into his buddy's mouth.

"Now. Fuck his face. And keep looking at me." The dazed thug started to moved his hips, staring at Randy the whole time. His cock slid in and out as the kneeling man choked. It must have been a combination of the sight of this shirtless stud and the warm sensation in his dick, but the skinhead was amazed to feel his dick getting hard.

"That's it, faggot'," Randy sneered. "Looks like you're getting off on your faggot' blow job. And your friend sure gives good head. You sure you've never done this before?" Tears were coming to their eyes as they were forced to perform what was to them a degrading act.

Randy let it go on for a while, then said, "OK, change positions. Your turn to suck dick, asshole." The other guy knelt and slowly opened his mouth. Again they flinched and shuddered as they were forced to endure this total humiliation.

"OK, you cocksucker. Pull out and take your dick in your hand." Randy walked behind the kneeling man and faced the other. He reached forward and put his fingers on the man's nipples. The guy groaned as Randy started to squeeze.

"Now, jack off." The skinhead winced and hesitated. Randy squeezed harder and barked, "I said, jack off, shitface!"

Furiously the man pumped his cock. He felt the fire in his tits and his gaze was transfixed by the steely blue eyes of the shirtless construction worker. He started to feel the heat rising in his groin and the blood rush to his cock. Mesmerized by the muscular man facing him he breathed heavily and started to moan.

Randy growled at him, "That's it, fucker. Now shoot your load over him." The skinhead had no choice but to obey. He screamed as a long jet of white semen shot from his cock into the face of his friend kneeling before him. The guy on the floor moaned in humiliation as he felt the hot cum pouring down his face. A second gush hit him in the chest and ran down his body.

Randy stood back and smiled. "That's it asshole. Now you're a real `faggot.' Feel good? OK, your turn."

Once again the positions were reversed and, with Randy squeezing his tits, the second guy was hypnotized by the steely blue eyes. It did not take long for him to shoot his wad all over the kneeling man. Both men were sobbing now with the sensation of total degradation at having committed this `faggot' act."

"That's it boys. Welcome to the faggot world'. You fit in real fine. Now listen good. If I ever, ever, hear either one of you dickheads utter the word faggot' again I swear I'll fuck you in the ass and rip you wide open. That's when I play real rough. Get it?"

"Yes, sir," they both sobbed.

It took only a few minutes for Randy to arrange things how he wanted. There were two wooden posts in the middle of the room, structural supports, and the two men were standing against them unable to move, hands bound tightly behind the posts. There was a mirror against the wall and they were forced to look at themselves and each other, stripped naked, their faces and bodies streaming with cum.

"Well don't you boys look real pretty?" Randy bent down and picked up something he had dropped on the floor earlier ... two black leather collars. He quickly fastened one around each of their necks. Then he stood back and folded his arms.

"See, the thing is, guys, I didn't appreciate you shitholes roughing up my boy. Then I get mad and I get rough." Their bodies slumped and their eyes streamed with tears. "See that in the mirror? The whole time you're in this house you're gonna be naked except for your collars. Now I'm gonna leave you looking at your own reflections, two miserable, broken assholes, stripped naked, your bodies soaked with the cum of your buddy. Feast your eyes on that, `faggots'."

He picked up his shirt and their clothes and turned to go. Then he looked back. "By the way, you can think of this as your job interview. Thing is, I'm not sure yet if you got hired." He paused ... "I'll get back to you on that. Meanwhile, boys, enjoy the view."

And Randy strode from the room, locking the door behind him.

A short while later over dinner the other four guys looked at Randy. They knew he had spent time with the skinheads and they were longing to know the details but didn't dare ask. When the meal was over Randy looked round the table at them all.

"I know what you're all wondering," he said. "I'll just say this. Those assholes are scared shitless and I don't think they'll give us any more trouble. They've been punished, big time, and there's an end of it. From now on, Darius and Pablo, you're gonna be in charge of them. While they're here you'll be their masters. A new experience for you both. Don't fuck up." The young guys grinned at each other.

"They'll be doing the grunt work on the construction that's left to do. I want them to work hard, and I want you to treat them fairly. Watch them carefully and if you think they deserve punishment check with me first. But be careful of them. They have to be kept in line."

Mark said, "Maybe it would be helpful if I looked in on them in uniform occasionally. A uniform has a way of impressing guys."

Darius grinned, "It sure as hell impresses me."

Randy whirled on him. "And you, punk, can lose the fantasies for once. I know life for you is one long fantasy but this is serious. You'll be in charge of them. And you, Pablo, keep your anger in check. You have a habit of flaring up, like me, but you've got to tame it here."

"Ok, sir."

Bob added, "Don't forget, we want to rehabilitate them, so we have to show them how decent guys live. There's a bathroom off the basement room so make sure they have towels and supplies. There's a TV we can move in and hook up to the cable. They'll be eating down there, but the same food as us."

"One more thing," said Randy. "Pablo, keep Billy close to you at all times. He's your best protection." They heard the tail thumping under the table. "You know what a burglar says. He would rather be surprised by a householder with a gun than by a dog. And you know why?"

"No, sir."

"Because the dog wouldn't hesitate!"

Now that Randy had laid down the ground rules they relaxed. But Randy still held the floor.

"Now, we have more important things to discuss. There are gonna be big changes. Most important, I'm quitting my present job and forming my own construction company." Darius and Pablo looked up in surprise. "That's why I bought the new truck. Bob and Mark have helped me in this. Bob has been crunching the numbers and come up with a budget we can live with. Mark can find guys who'll handle the security we'll need. And I can get good deals on most of the gear and equipment."

"But the strength of a construction company is in the men and the hard work. I've already got more work lined up than we can handle so I'll be running two shifts. My buddy and current foreman Jack will be coming over with me and he'll be the first shift foreman. But I need a foreman for the second shift." He paused and looked at Darius. "That's where you come in, punk. You're gonna be my second foreman."

Darius gasped and had trouble taking it in.

"I've been watching you and you've come on real well. You work hard, you're honest, and you're good with the other guys. Jack will work with you for the first few weeks. The drawback is that you're young to be a foreman. The advantage is that you'll be the only foreman whose ass I can whip and fuck if he screws up. Supervising the skinheads will be good practice for you." Darius's mouth was moving but no sound came out. "No need to say anything, punk. You can thank me by showing me how hard you can work."

Randy paused to let all this sink in. Pablo put his arm around his buddy, the new foreman. Randy hadn't finished. "Now, about the house. The half of the new building that's for Mark is finished and he'll be moving in right away. Our basement, where he's been living, will convert back to a gym and ...

"... and play room," interrupted Darius, his eyes shining.

"Yeah, yeah," grinned Randy. "Mark, we'll all help you get settled and then we'll set up the gym again." He turned to Darius and Pablo. "Your part of the new house is still not finished. The work's going too slow and I want it done fast so you can get out of that one room you're living in. That's where you and the skinheads come in." He paused. "That reminds me. I think it's time for me to untie them. I want you all there.

Minutes later all five guys were in the basement of the new building and four of them could not believe their eyes. The skinheads were still tied to the posts in front of the mirror. They looked totally demolished and subdued, and there was a mass of what had to be semen drying all over their faces and bodies.

"Jesus Christ," said Mark. "You don't mess around, buddy."

Randy addressed the prisoners. "I'm gonna untie you now. From now on Pablo and Darius here will be your masters. You will address them as `sir' and do everything, everything, they order you to. If they report any trouble, then you'll be answering to me again, and that won't be pretty. My guess is you don't want to tangle with me again. Am I right?"

"Yes, sir," they said, hanging their heads.

"The officer here will be living right above you, and he's just waiting to haul your asses to jail if you fuck up. You will be naked all the time until you start to deserve clothes again. You will not remove the collars round your neck. You will have no first names. Give me your last name and age?"

"Miller, sir. 22." "Brigg, sir. 23"

"OK, Miller and Brigg. What you're gonna do now is turn round and look at the five men facing you."

There was a long silence as the skinheads looked from one man to another ... the two beautiful young brown-skinned guys with the perfectly sculpted bodies. The incredible cop who looked like a Greek God. The stunning bodybuilder who looked like Superman. And the dark, glowering, muscular demon who had already made them suck dick and shoot all over each other. The air hung heavy as the silence continued.

Finally Randy barked, "You get a good look?"

"Yes sir," they said loudly.

"OK. You've already been thrashed and humiliated and if you put one step wrong you know what's in store for you. So I'm gonna give you one last chance to change your mind. You can go to jail, or you can stay here and work like slaves for all of us. What's it to be?"

Everyone was surprised at the speed and enthusiasm of their replies.

"Stay with you, sir. Please, sir."

"Yes, sir. We want to stay here, sir. Please, sir."

Unbelievably, the skinheads' dicks had started to get hard.

Later that night Bob and Randy were lying in bed and Bob gazed into Randy's eyes.

"Tired?"

"Totally bushed," Randy groaned.

"Well, once again you showed everyone who's boss around here. Must be exhausting to be everyone's master. Must be tough to be you."

"That's just what Pablo said."

"You should try to relax ... let go a bit. Try letting someone be your master for a change. It might be a big relief."

"Pablo said that too."

"Course, there`s only one guy in the world could do that."

"That's what I told Pablo."

"So?"

"So what? You could never dominate me, man. You know I'd always beat you in a fight. You'd never make me submit."

Bob smiled. "In a physical fight, sure. But there are other ways ... I could make you kneel to me."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. And I have just the plan."

"You always have a plan. Well let me tell you something, buddy, right now I have a plan of my own."

Bob grinned. "A plan that maybe involves your cock and my ass?"

"You got it. On your knees, asshole."

As the week progressed everyone followed Randy's orders. The skinheads began work on the construction under the strict surveillance of Darius and Pablo. Billy, too. They were surly at first but gradually showed signs that they were willing to work and obey.

Mark moved into the new house and the gym equipment was moved back into the basement room, which was still lined with mirrors. It was once again the workout and play space, redolent of all the sexual activity that had taken place there.

On Friday evening Bob came home from work and found Randy alone in the room in a pensive mood. Bob, still in his work suit, stood looking at him and picked up on his thoughts.

"It's time, buddy," Bob said.

Randy looked up and said mockingly. "Oh yeah, that's right. I forgot. You're gonna turn me into a slave for the night. OK, come on, then. You wanna fight?"

Bob said calmly. "No I don't want to fight. There's just one thing I want to do, then I'll take it from there. You up for the challenge?"

"Try me," Randy snarled.

A few minutes later Randy was alone in the room and he had allowed his lover to do what he wanted. The big construction worker was sitting in a chair, naked. His hands and arms were bound behind the back of the chair and his ankles tied to the chair legs. Instinctively he tried to struggle but he was tightly secured and could barely move.

"Why the fuck did I let him do this?" he thought to himself. "This is crazy. He's never gonna get me to submit to him like this. I'm the master here and nothing's gonna change that. Shit ... better just humor him, I guess."

Just then Bob returned. He was still in his business clothes, dark blue suit, crisp white shirt and tie. And he was carrying his gym bag. Randy had seen this many times in the locker room of the gym they belonged to, Bob changing from his work clothes to his workout gear. But somehow this looked different.

Randy growled. "OK, buddy. You've had your fun. Now cut me loose and let me fuck you're ass like I always do."

Bob ignored him, didn't even look at him. It was as if he was alone in the room. He began the usual daily routine of getting ready for his workout. First he looked in the full length mirrors and ran his hand inside his jacket and over his shirt, feeling the hard, bulging pecs underneath, then squeezing his nipple.

He smiled as he looked at the mirror image of the business executive and imagined the bodybuilder's physique that would soon be on display in a muscle-crunching workout. He moaned softly as he continued to stroke his nipples. Randy watched all this too with the same image in his mind. He was always amazed by the beauty of this stunning man and, not for the first time, gazed in awe at the image in the mirror.

Bob unbuttoned his jacket, shrugged it off and placed it carefully over the back of a chair. Then he undid his tie and pulled it off slowly. He unbuttoned his collar, first the top button, then another two. His white tank top became visible underneath. He opened the shirt wider and again stroked his nipples through the soft cotton of the tank. He moaned softly to himself ... "wow."

Randy's thoughts raced. "Jesus," he thought. "The man's stripping to turn himself on." Instinctively he tried to move his hand to his now-bulging crotch but he couldn't move. His wrists were bound tight behind him.

By now Bob had undone his shirt front and began pulling it from his waistband. He let the shirt hang loose and just stood staring at himself. Finally he pulled the shirt off and hung it carefully on a hanger, the tie draped around it. He stood there stripped to his white tank top, his shoulder muscles and big arms now on full view, the hard ridges of his abs clearly etched under the tight cotton.

Randy now had a raging hard-on and strained to free his hands to touch his dick. He hated his helplessness and his reflex was to give orders.

"OK, man, that's enough. Untie me ... now. I've had enough of this bullshit. I'm ordering you, asshole. Untie me."

It was as if Bob hadn't heard him, intensely focused as he was on the fantasy in the mirror. Slowly he pulled at his tank top, sliding it slowly up his hard torso, over his head, until he held it in his hand. Carefully he folded it and placed it on the arm of the chair. He stood back and looked at the shirtless stud in the mirror.

He flexed his chest muscles, placed his fists on his hips and flared his wide, V-shaped back. At the same time he hardened the stomach muscles to show off his eight-pack abs. Then he raised both arms and admired himself as he flexed his biceps. He looked magnificent.

"Come on, man," Randy pleaded. "Let me join in. You know how I get off on you. Let me at least touch my cock."

Again, no reaction from the bodybuilder, now lost in the fantasy of his own image. Next he kicked off his loafers and undid the belt around his slim waist. As his pants dropped to the floor he stepped out of them, picked them up and folded them carefully. Now wearing just his white shorts and black socks he put the pants over a hanger, adding his jacket, then hung the hanger on a hook.

The slow, deliberate way he moved sent Randy insane. He was about to bark an order, but stopped himself as he gazed at what came next. Bob bent down and pulled off his socks. He paused, allowed himself one quick, mocking glance at his prisoner, then dropped his shorts. Naked now, he admired his perfectly sculpted body. As he again flexed his muscles his cock started to grow until it stood out stiff in front of him.

Randy's own muscles strained with the desperate effort to free himself. He wanted this man like never before, he wanted to touch him, to fuck him, to dominate him totally as he always did. But he was beginning to realize that this time was different. He began to grasp that this was Bob's way of dominating him, of making him beg.

"I'll be damned if I will," Randy thought to himself. But he image before him overwhelmed his determination. Bob was now reaching down to his gym bag. He pulled out an old sweat-stained jock strap, stepped into it and pulled it up around his tight waist. He turned slightly from side to side, getting a view in the mirror of his bulging crotch in front and the perfect globes of his ass behind, framed by the straps of the jock-strap.

Randy couldn't take much more. "OK, man. What do you want from me? You want me to say please? OK, you win man. You're fucking gorgeous and I want you. Please untie me, let me touch you. I'm begging you now man. Isn't that enough?"

But it wasn't nearly enough. Not by far. Bob had decided that Randy would submit to him completely. He would grovel, crawl. Bob would fuck with his mind, drive him wild and would become his master. And Randy, the big, strong, powerful demon, the alpha male, the boss, would become, just for tonight, the abject slave he had never in his life dreamt of being.

There was a long way to go, Bob thought, before that happened. But they had the whole night ahead of them. He opened his gym bag again ...

TO BE CONTINUED IN "A Trial Of Strength -- Part 35"