A TRIAL OF STRENGTH ... Part 6 By Rob Williams
As dawn brought a pale light to the motel room Bob and Randy lay side by side naked on the bed, on their backs staring at the ceiling. The two big men were spent, exhausted, but still exhilarated by the extraordinary night they had spent together. Neither one could get their minds round the images that still haunted them. Etched on Randy's imagination was the searing sight of the beautiful, muscular body hanging from the ceiling, spinning round, screaming at the pain of the whip and exploding in orgasm. Bob could not forget how, looking at his own stunning image in the mirror, a bound, naked stud being brutally tortured, he had lost all control and fallen in love with his own magnificent reflection, shooting his semen all over it.
Love can exist between two heterosexual men in many forms. The love that begins in childhood and becomes a lifelong friendship. The love between buddies who know each other's moods, who play together and support each other no matter what. The fraternal love of siblings. The competitive admiration and respect of competitors. And the love between warriors who would die for each other.
In a short time Bob and Randy had developed a strange blend of all of these, based on sensations that ran too deep for either of them to understand and certainly not to control. On that blazing hot August weekend in a shabby motel room at the scruffy end of Hollywood Boulevard the two straight men had embarked on an intimate union that defied description. As soon as they met, there had been a fleeting glance between them that went beyond thought or feeling, and their encounter quickly developed into a series of events and experiences that came from a deep well of needs, aches and hungers.
Neither one had ever suspected that these feelings existed buried deep within them. Now they burst forth and found their expression in raw physical action, involving pain, bondage and domination, and an even stranger emotional hold that they had over each other. It was not sexual in any conventional sense of the word, but it became so intense and so loaded with testosterone that its only possible release was through orgasm. They were two big, tough, self-assured, powerful, unquestionably straight men who were now brothers of the flesh. They could not exist without each other.
Over the days that followed the men developed an intense intimacy that existed on two levels. For much of the time, and certainly in public, they were two straight buddies, doing things together that men usually do. Randy joined Bob's gym near Universal City and they worked out hard together. The gym members became familiar with them as work-out partners. They went to movies and ball games, shot hoops together, hiked in Hollywood's Runyon Canyon and later went out drinking together. Sometimes they even vented their heterosexual needs together with Sheila or one of her girlfriends. The girls could not believe the turn-on of the three- or four-way hookups with the two striking, muscular and supremely virile men.
But when the two buddies went back to the motel room and the door closed behind them their world changed. They entered their real, essential world, the world that kept calling them back like a siren song. They looked deep into each other's eyes and knew that their exhilaration was about to begin again.
It was just such a moment that led to events that were to test their strength, endurance and commitment to each other. They came in after a long, hot hike, both wearing gym shorts and sweat-stained tank tops. As they looked at each other they were again filled with awe at the sight of the other muscular body.
"Come here," ordered the swarthy construction worker. Bob came forward and stood under the ceiling beam. Randy placed the familiar restraints on his wrists and with a few minutes Bob had his arms stretched up and out, attached to the beam. Randy stepped back and gazed at the spread eagled body, muscles straining, chest heaving under the wet tank top. As always he looked stunning. Randy looked deep into his prisoner's eyes.
"The time has come for me to share you. I want my buddy Jack to see you the way I do, and to help me work you over. I'll be back."
He turned and left the room, leaving behind a man in spectacular bondage who was anticipating, and fearing, this new development.
Randy had arranged to meet his fellow construction worker, Jack, at the bar, promising something special. But Jack was not there and Randy asked the bartender Sheila if she knew anything.
"Jack was here earlier but he had to leave. Said something about working an extra shift."
"Shit," said Randy. He was looking forward to showing off his slave. "Gimme a beer."
As he sat at the bar he became aware of another guy at the other end ... a tall, muscular blond dressed in work clothes, grubby jeans and a sweaty T-shirt. It was Hans, one of the other guys from the work site, a big German with a harsh accent. The two guys had never liked each other. The same height, weight and sinewy build, they matched each other in looks and strength and had always been competitive, each one out to prove he was the better man. Hans came over and sat next to his rival.
"You gonna fuck Sheila tonight, or you gonna leave her to me?"
"Fuck off."
"I hear she likes it rough ... just my type."
"Yeah? Maybe you should pick on someone your own size. Maybe you'd be the one to get roughed up."
"I don't think so," Hans snarled. "I've worked over plenty of big guys. But that's something you know nothing about."
"Is that so? You don't know how wrong you are."
Randy's mind went back to the motel room, to the muscleman stretched in bondage waiting to be worked on. He had a sudden urge to show off to Hans, make the big German envious of his magnificent slave. He ordered another beer and looked hard at the twisted grin on the German's rugged face. He had to wipe that grin off. His toughness had been challenged and he wanted to prove that he was the top man. Without thinking of the outcome, he grabbed Hans's shoulder and said,
"Come with me."
Bob heard the key turn in the door and watched it open. He took a sharp intake of breath as Randy came in with the tall, ripped blond. The two construction workers were equals in size and beauty. Hans's eyes opened wide at the sight of the bound stud and he gasped,
"Wow. Will you look at that! What do we have here?"
He had to admire the bound man, muscles straining under gym shorts and tank top. He walked over to him and ran his hands over the beautiful body.
"Uh-uh," said Randy, pulling him away. "This is for me to touch and you to just look at. Go lie on the bed and I'll get some beers."
Hans threw himself on the bed and gazed in awe at the captive with his arms pulled tight to ceiling. Randy went and opened the small refrigerator in the corner.
"Shit," he said. "Just one left," and he threw a beer over to Hans. "I forgot I was out. I'll have to run to the bar and get a couple of six-packs from Sheila. Now you," pointing at the grinning Hans, "stay right where you are and just drool. I'll be right back." And without thinking he left the room, something he realized later was one of the dumbest things he ever did.
Left alone with Bob, Hans had no intention of just drooling. He stood up and went over to the big helpless man. He ran his hands over the body again, than clasped Bob's jaw tightly.
"So you're Randy's toy boy. He's got taste, I'll give him that. You look great ... much too good to be left alone. But I'm sure Randy doesn't know how to treat you. Takes a real man to do that."
Bob's throat was dry and he said, "No. Wait for Randy. Please...no."
"Shut up!" and Hans hit him viciously across the face, making Bob's head spin. "You're mine now. I give the orders. Let's just see how much that beautiful body of yours can take." And focusing on Bob's huge pecs he squeezed the nipples with a brutal ferocity.
Bob howled in pain, until Hans eventually let go and stood back. He yanked at Bob's tank top, pulled him toward him and spat full in his face. The force of the wrench tore one arm of the tank, leaving the shirt to hang from just one of the massive shoulders. Then Hans stepped back, ripped his belt from his jeans and stood there swinging it. Bob closed his eyes, knowing what to expect.
When it came, the first lash made him scream in agony. Hans was a real sadist and wanted to destroy this property of Randy's. He held nothing back and his sinewy muscles bulged as he put every ounce of his strength into the blows. Bob had never experience anything like this. The belt cut into his chest, his back, his thighs and, worst of all, his ass. In no time his muscles were a blaze of welts and bruises and he was howling like an animal. He was only dimly aware when the door burst open.
"No!" Randy screamed and threw himself on the big German in a perfect football tackle. The two giants crashed to the floor and the fight began. It was brutal, with shirts quickly ripped off so both men were stripped to the waist. The men were equally matched in skill and strength but Randy had the force of his fury on his side. He pinned the big German to the floor, knelt on his arms and began to smash his fist into his face.
"You fucking asshole. I'm gonna kill you. I'm gonna fucking kill you," he screamed. Then he clamped his hands around Hans's throat and picked him up bodily off the floor. Backing him up to the wall, his hands still on his throat, he crashed his head against the wall again and again.
The muscular German was reeling. He was in a complete daze, quickly losing control of his body and mind. As Bob watched the fight in horror, Randy shifted his hold to clamp his arm around Hans's head in a brutal head lock. Again he rammed the head against the wall until Hans was slipping into unconsciousness. Hans was almost finished, but with the instinct of a wounded animal he summoned every last ounce of strength and brought his elbow backward, crashing it hard into Randy's balls.
Randy howled in pain as he released his rival and fell in a crumpled heap on the floor, clutching his groin. The two men crawled slowly and painfully, each trying to recover, but it was Hans who came to first and he seized the advantage. Coming up behind the fallen giant he grabbed his wrists behind his back and pulled them viciously upward in a brutal double hammer lock. Yanking on the arms he pulled Randy to his feet. He was helpless, his arms stretched up behind his back, his big chest straining and heaving. Hans yanked him round to face Bob and held him locked in place. He yelled at Bob.
"You see, punk! You see your master now! He's nothing! He's beaten. Hear your buddy scream," and he pulled the arms up even higher, causing excruciating pain. "He's finished. Listen to him submit."
"Fuck you!" Randy yelled, but Hans applied even more pressure and his arms felt as if they would be wrenched off. Bob was horrified as he was watched his buddy in front of him, chest heaving, muscles straining, shoulders and arms screaming under the pressure.
"Give up!" screamed Hans.
Randy managed to croak, "Go and fuck yourself."
But Hans's muscles bulged as he put every ounce of strength into torturing Randy's arms. Randy screamed in agony and knew his arms would soon break. He held on until the pain was unbearable and he knew he had no choice.
"OK ... Igive up."
"I don't hear you."
"I give up, I submit."
"Again."
"I'm finished. I submit ... sir."
"I'm your master?"
"Yes sir," Randy yelled. "Please let me go. You win. I'm beaten." Then he whimpered, "The pain ... please let me go."
Hans finally released the arms and pushed Randy onto the floor on his chest. He gloated over him, then kicked the big body, which turned over limply onto its back. Hans wasn't finished. He kneeled astride the broken stud, clenched his big fists and pummeled his big pecs unmercifully, then moved down and punished the hard abs. Finally he paused, pulled back and then with one vicious blow, slammed his fist into the swarthy, agonized face. Randy's head fell to one side. He was unconscious, beaten.
Helpless to move, Bob looked down at his fallen buddy, his brother, and tears flowed down his cheeks. The big, tough, powerful man, his master who always dominated him, now lay on the floor a broken wreck of a man, beaten into submission by the big muscular German.
His muscles heaving and sweating Hans stood up and raised his fists in the air.
"I am the best," he shouted. Then turning to Bob, "Look down at the piece of shit. Your so-called master is destroyed. He's finished. Now he will see how I treat his buddy. He will be a helpless witness to the suffering of his friend.
It took a while for Randy to slowly start to regain consciousness. In his first glimmerings of feeling he was aware only of pain, the throbbing in his jaw, the pain in his balls, the bruising on his pecs and abs, and something stretching his shoulders and arms behind his back. He tried to move but gradually realized that he was on his knees, stripped naked, and his hands were tied tightly behind him. He managed to turn his head and realized that he was lashed to the old water pipe that run floor to ceiling up the wall.
He closed his eyes again and shook his head to try to recover his wits. As his mind was starting to clear he heard a guttural voice close to his ear.
"Wake up, big boy. I have something to show you."
Hans! Memory started to come back to the bound construction worker, of a brutal fight, a fight he had lost. He had been beaten and humiliated. But he couldn't make any more sense of it.
"Open your eyes, cock sucker."
Randy did so, but at first nothing would come into focus. Slowly the haze cleared and he was aware of a man, twisting and groaning, his muscular body striped with welts and bruises. Gradually the full horror came to him. The man was Bob, his buddy, his brother, the man he had bonded with so intensely, the man he had dominated and protected. His arms were tied upward and apart, shackled to the high beam. But worse, his feet were now six inches above the floor, flailing free. He was still wearing gym clothes except that one arm of the tank had been ripped down to expose one of his bruised and tortured pecs.
"NO!" Randy howled, pulling wildly at his restraints in a desperate attempt to get to his agonized friend. "No ... don't do this!"
"Oh this is just the beginning," grated the voice in his ear. "Look at that body. Incredible, no?" You can feel his pain. But, you know, I think we can improve on the picture."
Randy could hardly take it in. The muscular body suspended from the ceiling flailed twisted and thrashed in an effort to get free. Bob looked down and focused on Randy, his eyes pleading for release." Hans had already gone over to the flailing giant and in one quick moved pulled down his shorts. As they fell to the floor his big, thick cock flopped free and flew back and forth as the body writhed. Then Hans ripped the other shoulder of the tank, which fell in shreds around the tight, heaving waist. Hans went back close to Randy.
"Now the picture is perfect. He looks stunning." Through the haze of physical pain and mental anguish Randy still felt a rush of adrenaline looking at the writhing muscle stud, naked now except for the shredded tank draped round his waist. But he had to stop this. He decided to plead.
"Look, Hans. Be reasonable. Stop this before it's gone too far. You know you'll pay for it in the end."
"I think not," said the guttural German accent. "I have a feeling you are the one who will pay ... you and your magnificent toy boy being tortured in front of you. You tried to beat me and lost while your buddy watched. Now you will see what it means to lose to Hans."
"OK, you win. But torture me instead. Tie me up, whip me, thrash me, fuck me, whatever you want, only let him go. He's not the one who fought you. I'll do anything, be your slave. Just let him go." He added with a whimper, "Please, sir."
"As enticing as the idea is of torturing you, I think there is one thing worse than physical pain. You will go through far greater agony watching me destroy your friend. And he will, slowly and methodically, be destroyed. But first we watch."
And, shoulder to shoulder, the two muscular construction workers watched in awe as the bound giant struggled. The rope cut agonizingly into his wrists so he tried to hold onto the rope above the shackles. Then, to ease the pain further he tried to haul himself up to grasp the beam. As his sinewy muscles strained and his veins bulged, he tried several times, and failed to pull himself upward. Each time he crashed back in the restraints and howled in pain.
As Hans stood up Randy yelled, "NO! You asshole, you mother fucking bastard. You arrogant sadistic prick."
"Silence!" Hans wheeled round and brought the back of his hand viciously across the construction worker's handsome, the rugged face. "You will not speak. Just watch ... and enjoy."
And so the torture began. Hans took his time. Picking up his belt he circled the groaning, writhing, near naked man, choosing the best place to start. The ass, he thought, and brought the belt crashing across the perfect, rounded cheeks. Bob and Randy both screamed together as one felt the intense physical pain and the other the agony of watching it.
The muscular body arched as Bob tried to avoid the whip on his ass. But it crashed again, and again and again. The perfect ass was now a brilliant red, covered in welts. Hans aimed his belt higher, across the bulging pecs, across the V-shaped back, around the thighs and then, viciously, across the ravaged nipples.
Hans went into a trance, losing all control and lashing the screaming, muscular giant who pulled, twisted and writhed in agony. Tears flowing down his face Randy screamed for Hans to stop, put the massive German was beyond hearing him. In desperation, Randy eased himself up, his hands still bound around the pipe and he managed to pull his legs into a crouching position. When Hans had his back turned, Randy summoned all his strength and aimed a hard, brutal kick at the back of Hans's right knee.
With a howl of pain, Hans's legs buckled and he fell backward toward Randy. Bound though he was, Randy moved his legs fast and, as Hans fell, locked his powerful thighs around Hans's waist. Hans fell, held in a vice-like scissor grip. His body thrashed and kicked but the massive thighs increased their pressure on his six-pack abs.
"You fucking asshole," Randy screamed. "You fucking sadistic animal. Try to get out of this."
And Hans tried mightily. He pushed down on the rock hard thighs but couldn't move them. His muscular body strained and bulged and he flexed his abs as he tried to relieve the pain, but his body was locked solid, squeezed by the straining legs. Bob looked down in amazement at the two straining giants, their muscles cracking in the pain and heat of the struggle, both screaming obscenities at each other.
Crushed and winded, Hans was growing weaker and his breath was coming in agonized gasps. His animal instinct again took hold again. His arms were still free and, clasping his hands together into a single fist he raised them and crashed them down into Randy's balls. Randy's eyes opened wide as he gave an agonized gasp. The pain was excruciating and he fell back. His legs collapsed and Hans sprang free. His eyes blazed with anger.
He knelt in front to the groaning construction worker and hit him hard across the face, from side to side, again and again.
"You fool! You never learn. You cannot beat me. I am the best, I will always win. I will fucking kill you." He stood up, his chest heaving and he fixed his maddened gaze on his crumpled victim.
"But it's not you who will pay. It's him!" and he wheeled round to confront the terrified man whose muscled body now hung limply from the ceiling. He reached down to Bob's groin, seized his big balls in his hand and started to squeeze. Bob's huge body convulsed and his screams echoed round the room. Hans looked down at Randy as he tortured the man's balls.
"Now see what you have done. Now you will submit to me ... I mean really submit. What do you have to say?"
Randy would have said anything to make his buddy's pain stop. He spoke without thinking.
"OK, OK. You win. Please stop. Please, sir, stop torturing him. I'll do anything, say anything. Just ease off." He was sobbing as he watched his buddy's torment.
"Who is your master?"
"You are sir," Randy shouted. "I submit to you. You have destroyed me. I am your slave. Please, sir. I'll do anything."
"Will you give your friend, your slave, to me?"
"Yes...anything."
"To do exactly as I wish with him?"
"Yes ... anything."
"Tell him!" Hans screamed.
Randy looked up at the writhing, tortured muscles above him and looked into his eyes.
"Bob, Hans is now your master. You belong to him. He has thrashed and beaten me. He has won. You are now his. He will torture you and you must submit. You understand?"
With tears streaming down his cheeks Bob managed to croak a feeble "Yes," and at that moment the pain in his balls stopped as Hans released his hold.
His body went limp as Hans turned his attention to the beaten construction worker sobbing on the floor.
"Get back on your knees."
With difficulty, his muscles aching in pain, the big, rugged man managed to pull himself up, his bound wrists sliding up the pole behind his back and he fell back on his knees. Hans reached down and pulled his head back by the hair. He laughed as he looked at the sweat- and tear-stained face. The he stood back, picked up another beer, took a deep gulp, and began to speak.
"I've always hated you, Randy, you arrogant fucking bastard. Sure, you look good ... handsome, tough, strong, and you always thought you were better than me, could always whip me. Well tonight I've proved that's bullshit, I've proved that I am the best. I have totally humiliated and broken you. And there you are, a pathetic wreck. You have humbled yourself in front of your buddy, your slave. He is looking at you not as his master, but as the shattered asshole that you are. And Bob now belongs to me."
Hans took another long drink of beer and walked over to Bob, whose head hung in despair. He reached up to lengthen the ropes until Bob's feet touched the floor in blessed relief. Hans grabbed his hair, pulled back his head and spoke inches from his agonized face.
"What to do you say?
"Thank you, sir."
"Who do you belong to?"
"You, sir."
"What about him, that animal on the floor?" pointing with his beer bottle to the broken muscle stud on his knees.
"He's nothing , sir. He's finished. You are my master."
"So you want to see how low your so-called master has fallen?
"Yes, sir."
Letting his head go, Hans turned back to Randy. With one last gulp of beer, he said.
"You piece of shit. Open your mouth."
Randy obeyed and looked up, knowing what was coming. Hans took hold of his thick cock and point it downward. He let go a long stream of piss that went straight into the dark, handsome face and straight into his mouth.
"Drink, mother fucker."
Randy gulped the hot, rancid yellow liquid as it gushed into his mouth. His mind was blank. He was aware only of the German's stream of piss at it gushed into his mouth and down into his belly. As he started to gag, Hans raised his dick and directed the hot spray over the stubbled chin, the eyes, the face, the hair, and then down onto the heaving sinews of the man's beautiful body. Randy's sweating body was now drenched in piss. It soaked his hair, ran down his dark, rugged face, poured over his heaving chest and straining arms, and down over his bulging thighs.
Hans stepped back and contemplated his work. The big man was a picture of total humiliation, his piss soaked body still convulsing with pain. He looked up at his bound buddy with tears streaming down his face. He saw that his blood brother was also sobbing as he looked down at the beaten man. Randy's face twisted in shame and defeat as he said,
"I'm sorry, man."
"Very touching," Hans said. "But keep looking at your beautiful friend. We're not finished by a long shot. Things are about to get interesting."
TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength ... Part 7