A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 94 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER:

"So this is it, mother-fucker .... we meet at last." Randy confronts the spectacular Hassan and takes brutal revenge on the man who once tortured and abused Mark. "Let's see how tough you are, stud. Now it's just us ... man to man." The homoerotic trial of strength climaxes when the chained, broken Hassan sees a new arrival. "From the depths of his despair and degradation came a sob of recognition ... "Mark!"

As always, guys, I welcome your comments and suggestions. They can be very helpful in planning future chapters. E-mail me at rw6789@aol.com.

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A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - Chapter 94 – "Randy & Hassan – Retribution"

It was early evening. All the crew had left the construction site except for Randy and Darius who were going over some plans in the trailer office. "OK, punk," Randy said, "no need for you to stick around. I'll finish up here. I know you're straining to get to the gym, so get your ass out of here."

"Thanks boss." Darius grabbed his gym gear and ran out to his truck.

About an hour later Randy was rolling up the plans, ready to close up for the day, when his cell phone rang. As soon as he heard Darius's excited, conspiratorial voice his body tensed.

"Hey boss," Darius said in a half whisper. "You'll never guess. Remember a few weeks ago when I told you about that gorgeous guy I met at the gym. What was his name..."

"Hassan?" Randy growled.

"That's the guy. A real muscle-god. Anyway, you told me to call you if he showed up again. Well he he's here, and guess what? I think he really likes me. Wants to get together. He suggested we go to my house. Would that be OK with Zack do you think?"

"Hell no, dick-head." Randy felt the icy clarity of cold anger seize him. "Now listen. And get this right, kid. You agree to take him home. But instead you bring him here ... to the site. Make some excuse ... tell him you need to stop off to pick something up. I'm the only one here ... which is just as well. When you get here I'll take over. You make yourself scarce. This has nothing to do with you."

"OK, boss. Got it." But as he walked back over to Hassan Darius said to himself. "Huh ... Make myself scarce. No way. This I gotta see. Should be one for the books."

Randy left the trailer and paced around the site, his body tense, fists clenched. He muttered through gritted teeth. "So this is it, mother fucker ... we meet at last." His anger was stoked by the memory of Mark's harrowing story of his experience as a young army corporal in the Middle East. Captured and interrogated by the enemy Mark had been brutally tortured, physically and sexually, by a guard, whose striking face and body almost matched Mark's stunning beauty.

It was a complex story. It was inevitable that the two alpha males would become engaged in a trial of strength, but there quickly developed a heavy homoerotic tone to the interrogation, with sexual attraction on both sides. After all, Mark had explained, "We were both beautiful men ... me a muscular Scandinavian blonde, he with his Middle-Eastern dark looks and perfectly sculpted body."

Having been abused and degraded Mark had managed to overpower Hassan, whose last desperate words as Mark escaped had been, "I must see you again, Mark. I swear, I will come to your country and find you."

"And now you're here," Randy growled softly. "But I'm damned if you'll see Mark without going through me first, you sadistic son-of-a-bitch." The notorious anger that was at the core of Randy's being now surged through him. He had previously told Bob, "I have a score to settle with that vicious prick and it won't be pretty. Nobody tortures one of my buddies like that without answering to me. They mess with any of my guys and they mess with me."

And he knew he was the only one to do it. "Hell," he had said to Bob, "none of you guys would do what I have in mind. Mark's a cop ... goes by the book and avoids violence. Zack would probably say that the prick was following military orders. And you know how you are ... you'd probably invite the guy for afternoon tea to talk things over."

So now Randy paced the site and waited. To ease the tension he sought refuge in the one thing that always calmed him ... hard physical work. There was a derelict wall they had planned to demolish the next day with jack hammers, but Randy now made it the focus of all his anger and frustration. He picked up a sledge hammer and swung it violently at the wall, chipping out huge chunks with each blow.

He was driven by the image of the chained soldier, his buddy Mark, being tortured by the man he was about to meet. Soon his T-shirt was wringing wet and he stripped it off, his rippling muscles glistening in the light of the setting sun. Sweat poured down his chest, soaking the waistband of his filthy cargo pants.

He was so absorbed in his anger-fueled labor that he didn't hear Darius's truck pull up outside the gate. Darius walked in with Hassan and they stopped at the sight of the muscle-bound construction worker in the middle of the site, stripped to the waist, swinging his axe at the crumbling wall.

Hassan had never seen a man like this one. "Who in the hell is that?" he asked Darius.

"Oh, that's my boss. Everyone's boss if it comes to that. His name's Randy."

Hassan stared at the man as he worked. He was instantly on alert, partly because of the man's obvious strength and power, partly the instinctive fear that he inspired ... but something else too. As he watched the gleaming muscles flex, saw sweat stream down his chiseled features, the square jaw and darkly stubbled chin, Hassan felt his cock stirring in his pants.

Finally Randy looked up and stopped work, leaning on the pick-axe. So this was Hassan. For once, Randy thought, Darius had not exaggerated. The guy was spectacular ... tall, muscular, with dark, exotic features, high cheek bones, slanted dark eyes and jet black hair. He wore military fatigue pants tucked into combat boots, and his black gym tank-top was stretched over his magnificent chest.

Across the expanse of the construction site their eyes met ... and held steady. They were two dominant alpha males, like rival stallions meeting for the first time. His fist gripping the pick-axe Randy strode across the site and stopped a few feet in front of Hassan. For a minute Darius thought he was going to swing the axe at Hassan and he blurted out, "Sir, this is the guy I told you about from the gym ... we were just ..."

His words died as Randy glanced at him and imperceptibly indicated the gate. Darius knew his boss well and recognized that steely look. Unobtrusively he walked quietly through the gate and closed it behind him. The two men were alone.

Wordlessly they sized each other up. Randy walked round Hassan and stood between him and the gate, legs astride, still gripping the axe. His unyielding gaze unnerved Hassan, who finally spoke, in his accented, vaguely musical voice.

"Who are you, man?"

"Doesn't matter who I am. All you need to know is that Mark is my buddy ... he's like a brother to me. And all I need to know is that you are Hassan, the sadistic son-of-a-bitch who tortured him."

Hassan tensed instantly. "Mark! Where is Mark? I need to see him."

"All in good time, asshole. See, to get to Mark you have to go through me. And that won't be easy ... not as easy as you and your buddies overpowering one man, chaining him up and working him over."

"What are you gonna do, man?"

"Well, let's see. I believe in an eye for an eye. I believe you should get to feel what my friend Mark felt. I got several good buddies but none of them would have the stomach to torture you. But, see Hassan, I got a stronger stomach. And I hate your fucking guts."

Hassan made a move to go round Randy but Randy stepped sideways and blocked his path. He stood in front of him, a menacing figure, stripped to the waist. "What's your hurry, Hassan? Hey, you're a big guy ... you scared of a challenge? Tell you what ... I'm gonna give you an equal chance ... the chance you and your thugs never gave Mark. It's just you and me here, Hassan." He threw down the axe and held his arms out to the sides, beckoning with his fingers. "Come on, stud, let's see what you got."

There was a tense silence. Then suddenly with lightning speed Hassan raised his leg high and landed a heavy karate kick to Randy's shoulder, hurling him to the ground. The move stunned the construction worker. As he lay dazed in the dirt he realized that Hassan was a fighter, army trained, and probably, with his Asian background, skilled in martial arts. He opened his eyes and saw Hassan start to walk away toward the gate.

Randy shot out his arm and just managed to grab Hassan's ankle, wrenching it and pulling him off balance. He crashed to the ground and Randy crawled toward him, but Hassan's reflexes were fast. With another kick he crashed his heavy boot into Randy's stomach, making him howl as he doubled up in pain. Hassan was on him in a second, astride him, pinning him on his back, his arms pinioned at his side. He crashed his fist against the rugged face, first one side, then the other, again and again.

Through a haze of pain Randy looked up at the dark, exotic face and knew that he was on the verge of losing the fight. With all the strength he could muster he yanked one arm free and smashed it into Hassan's jaw. The soldier reeled backward and fell face-down in the dirt.

There was a dip in the ground here where water had gathered in a muddy pool. Both stunned muscle studs now crawled painfully toward each other through the mud, reaching, clawing to gain the advantage. Hassan raised his hand and clamped it on Randy crotch, brutally squeezing his balls. Randy screamed and grabbed Hassan's wrists, frantically trying to pull his hands off him.

Suddenly Hassan leaped to his feet, leaving Randy doubled up, clutching his balls, groaning in the mud. Hassan was ready with another vicious kick into Randy's stomach, causing another howl of agony. In a dazed blur Randy looked up and saw the handsome, triumphant face of the man towering over him.

"You see, bug guy, you are nothing against Hassan," he sneered. "Sure, you're a big, tough bodybuilder, but I am better. You should have asked your friend Mark how I treat my enemies. He would tell you I would break you ... just as I broke him, chained in that prison cell."

That was Hassan's mistake, conjuring up the graphic image of Mark's tortured body. Randy became an animal, no longer aware of his throbbing balls and aching stomach. With the bellow of an injured bull he leapt to his feet and clamped his hands round Hassan's throat. Hassan flailed wildly, punching Randy in the ribs, the stomach, trying to land a kick to his legs.

But Randy felt nothing, except hatred for man he was choking. He felt Hassan weaken, his blows become feeble. He released his grip and butted his head against Hassan's forehead, making him stagger backward and crash against a wall. Randy walked toward him and the pounding began. He had completely lost control and his rage took over. With one hand he pinned him by the throat to the wall and smashed his other fist into his stomach. The gut punching was brutal and Hassan howled in pain as he flexed his stomach muscles against the rain of blows.

Between heaving breaths Randy taunted him. "Not so big are you now, asshole, now it's one on one? Easy to torture a man in chains, but you're not so hot in a fair fight. You mother-fucking son-of-a-bitch. Let's see how much you can take."

Pinned against the wall Hassan knew he was beaten and, as his legs began to buckle he managed to beg in a rasping voice. "OK, man ... you've won. I'm finished. Please ... I've had enough. No more ... please. You've beaten me."

"You bet your life I have, asshole," Randy growled. "This is me your dealing with now, and I am the best." He hauled back and swung one last brutal fist across Hassan's face. His head flew sideways, his massive body hovered in mid-air before he crashed to the ground senseless.

His body heaving Randy stood astride the crumpled body. "Now, Hassan, we really will see how much you can take."

It was the shock of cold water streaming into his face that brought Hassan back to consciousness. He shook his head and tried to focus through the spray-cloud blinding him. The force of the jet lessened and he saw a big, rugged, shirtless muscleman aiming a hose at him. Again he shook his head and remembered the guy ... Randy was his name ... who had beaten him to a pulp. Hassan was a fighter, a martial arts expert and nobody ever defeated him. But this man had.

As Hassan was able to focus clearly on the handsome, swarthy muscle-stud he was horrified to feel his cock swelling in his pants. His reflex was to touch his cock but he found that he couldn't. In fact he couldn't move. His hands were bound behind him and he became aware that he was chained to iron bars ... scaffolding. The water stopped as Randy held the hose above his own head and showered the grime and mud of battle off his face and body. He turned off the hose and his body streamed with water as he stood before his chained prisoner.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Hassan. In case you're wondering, you're in my world now, on my construction site, and you are pretty much in the same position you put my buddy Mark into. Feel those chains? You're tied to the scaffolding we have here, your hands are pulled back over a bar and tied behind you. There's a chain around your neck. Sound familiar? It should ... cast your mind back to a beautiful blonde soldier chained to a wall in a cell and being tortured ... by you."

Hassan looked at his captor through haunted eyes. "What are you gonna do to me, man?"

"Well, pretty much what you did to Mark, I guess. Don't recall that, do you? Well I'll give you time to think. Try to remember how you tortured my buddy and that's pretty much what's gonna happen to you ... and then some. No hurry though. We got lots of time. Besides I have work to do. So I'll just leave you to think. We'll just get your dressed for the part.

He reached forward and yanked the filthy black tank-top from Hassan's chest, so it hung in shreds round his waist. Randy stepped back and gazed at the beautiful muscle-god, now stripped to the waist, perfectly chiseled muscles straining against his chains. The handsome face gazed at him in fear and apprehension, his dark, exotic features bearing the marks of the fight, his black hair hanging in his eyes.

"Yeah," Randy growled. "I'm really gonna enjoy working over a stud like you," and the thought made his cock stiff in his work pants. "One more thing ... let's try a little experiment. He yanked at the crotch of Hassan's pants and as the fly came open he grabbed at the cock inside and pulled it out. The huge cock hung down and Randy grinned in approval.

"Now that's a piece of meat, Hassan. Proud of that, I bet. Pity it's not hard ... usually when guys look at me it's an instant hard-on. Well, we'll see about that. Enjoy the view, Hassan."

He walked away, picked up the pick axe he had dropped on the ground and resumed hacking at the crumbling wall. Randy had several reasons for taking his time. First, he recognized the intensity of his anger for the soldier and knew that if he tortured him now he would probably do serious, permanent harm. So this hard labor was a way of venting some of his fury ... take it out on the damn wall rather than the stud chained to the scaffolding.

His other reason intrigued him more. Randy knew the effect he had on others ... men and women alike ... and he wanted to find out if this Hassan was immune to that. He doubted it ... especially now he was forced to watch the magnificent shirtless construction worker straining his muscles in heavy work.

Randy was right. As Hassan watched him his thoughts were harrowing. He recalled every detail of what he had done to Mark long ago, the torture of his balls, the pain and humiliation as he hung chained to the wall, and then the sexual degradation as Mark had been unable to stifle his lust for his captor. And now this powerful man had promised him the same treatment ... and more. Hassan watched in awe as the rugged, swarthy muscle-god worked and he imagined how it would feel being tortured by him.

Glorious as the sight was, Hassan was determined not to feel any sexual desire for the man. He would not suffer that humiliation. And yet ... he already felt a stirring in his cock, felt the blood start to flow, felt the pulse. The sight of this magnificent man was too much for him. Randy's sinewy muscles flexed hard as he worked, gleaming with sweat, his handsome face tense with concentration, tousled black hair falling over his forehead. Like others before him Hassan was overwhelmed by the sight of the dark demon.

Hassan tore his eyes away and looked down in horror. His cock was now rock hard, standing out stiff from his pants. He pulled at the chains binding him in a futile attempt to touch his cock. "No," he groaned and knew he was lost. Physical pain he could endure ... but not this.

Randy grinned when he saw Hassan's huge erection. Still swinging the axe he shouted, "You too, eh, Hassan? Like all the others ... can't resist. Soon you'll be begging ... just wait `til I've finished with this wall ... and start on you."

And so the muscular prisoner hanging in chains gazed helplessly at his tormentor ... and waited.

As it happened, Hassan was not the only one watching and waiting. Randy grinned to himself as he heard in the distance muffled moans and caught snatches of words. "Oh, man ... so fucking hot ... the fight ... that stud in chains ... shit, the boss is gonna work him good."

Randy had known that Darius would not be able to resist this. Sure, he had left the site, but Randy knew exactly where he'd be, standing on a trestle against the outside wall, looking through a crack in the fence. He was also certain that Darius had his camera with him, filming the whole thing. Shit, the kid took it everywhere with him. "What the hell," thought Randy. "Let him do it. Keep a record of the asshole's torture."

Darius had never been in such a frenzy of excitement. Although his body was trembling he forced himself to keep the camera to his eye. Right now he was focused on the sweating construction worker. Then he slowly panned across the site to the exotic, shirtless muscle-stud chained to the scaffold. The camera lingered on his face, then moved down over the broad shoulders, bulging pecs and slim waist, and came to rest on the huge cock standing rigid out of his pants.

"So fucking hot, dude," Darius breathed. "Come on boss, start working him over. This wait is killing me."

The wait was even more agonizing for the prisoner. His body was alive with anticipation and fear ... mixed with uncontrollable desire for the man who would torture him. The homoerotic image of the swarthy construction worker swinging the axe was hypnotic, and Hassan's heightened awareness made his body shake. His imagination of what was to come was worse than actual pain. This was torture in itself ... the wait, the agonizing wait. Finally he snapped.

"OK, man," he shouted. "You win. Do what you have to do. I can take it."

The arrogance in the man's voice bounced off Randy and he continued working. Hassan started to groan in frustration, and his voice became submissive. "Please, man. Do what you're gonna do. I know I'm beaten, sir. Please, torture my body. I'm begging you, man."

That was the word Randy wanted to hear. He dropped the axe, stretched his muscles and wiped the sweat from his face and chest. Then he strode over to the degraded captive.

"OK, asshole, what do you want from me?"

"I want you to begin, sir. I want you to work me over, hurt me." His beautiful, slanted eyes gazed at Randy. "Please, man. You're driving me insane. Please just do it. Torture my body. I beg you, sir."

"OK, shithead ... but we have an old saying in this country ... `be careful what you wish for.' Oh, and by the way, this site is pretty remote and any sound is drowned out by the roar of the freeway overhead, so feel free to scream as loud as you like. Now, first things first. When you were torturing my buddy Mark, what did you start with?"

Hassan knew he had no choice. He groaned in a low voice, "His balls."

"OK," Randy said, stroking his jaw. "Let's see, now." He walked away, into the trailer, and came out holding one of his old motorcycle boots and a length of cord. Facing Hassan he grabbed his balls, twisting them viciously. Hassan took a deep breath and stared into Randy's eyes. This was his trial of strength. It was beginning. He gritted his teeth but as the pain increased he finally gave way, opening his mouth in a pitiful animal howl.

Randy applied more pressure to the balls and watched the handsome, sculpted face thrash from side to side. `God he's beautiful,' Randy thought as he saw the eyes fill with tears, the chiseled features twist in pain, the jet black hair flying as his head jerked. Randy felt his own dick getting hard.

Finally, after one last vicious squeeze, he let go of the balls and heard Hassan's rasping voice sob with relief. He took the cord he had brought and wrapped it tightly round the base of Hassan's scrotum, making the balls bulge, rock hard. The other end of the cord he tied to the loop at the top of the boot, which now swayed between Hassan's legs. His face was inches from Hassan's as he growled, "Now you know what I'm gonna do to you, asshole?"

Hassan swallowed hard. "You're gonna torture my balls."

"Bingo!" Randy picked up the hose he had used before and turned the water on low. He held end of the hose over the boot and let the water flow into it at a steady trickle. Then he locked eyes with Hassan. It was a slow build. The weight of the boot itself was negligible but, almost imperceptibly at first, the pressure began to build as the water flowed in. Hassan began to feel his balls stretched as the boot slowly got heavier and heavier. He saw a glimmer of a smile in Randy's eyes.

"Let's see how tough you are, stud. You're a great fighter, I'll give you that. You almost beat me. Now it's just us ... man to man. Show me how much pain you can take."

As Hassan gazed at Randy the pale blue eyes oddly gave him strength. He wanted to prove himself to this incredible man, prove that he could take whatever he threw at him. But the pain was becoming intense as the boot began to fill. The rope tightened around his balls, stretching them unbearably. His breathing became ragged and sweat poured off him. He felt like his balls were being ripped clean off and he screamed.

Again Randy realized how beautiful this man was, his incredible body helplessly bound, screaming in pain. "You can submit to me any time you like, man," Randy said. "Just say it."

Hassan felt himself drowning in the man's eyes, his body racked with pain. He had to do it. "I submit, sir," he shouted. "I submit." Instantly the water was turned off and Hassan hung helpless from his chains, the boot swinging between his balls.

"Now, Hassan, I want to hear an apology for what you did to my buddy. I want to know why."

Hassan was in a fog of pain and humiliation. He moaned, "I'm sorry for what I did. It was war, we had our orders ... No, it was more than that." He started to sob. "Mark was so beautiful ... he looked magnificent in chains. I had never met a man like that. He was a god. I desired him, wanted him forever. I made him shoot his load just looking at me ... I thought he wanted me too. I fell in love with him, man. I still love him." His chest heaved with sobs "I want to see him, sir. Torture me, thrash me, do whatever you want. Just allow me to meet him ... just once more."

Randy was taken aback by this speech. He had not expected this intensity of loss and longing. He saw Hassan in a new light. He still hated what the man had done, still needed to punish him more. But there was something different about him, softer somehow, as his stunningly beautiful face gazed at him in abject submission.

Randy even pitied him, swept by the admiration of one beautiful man for another. They were two of a kind in an elite, rarified world. Mark, with his stunning beauty, belonged in that world too, and Randy's anger was partly caused by the thought of such beauty being tortured and humiliated. The same sentiment gripped him now. It was hard to watch a man as superb as Hassan suffer such pain and degradation.

Moving by impulse Randy put his hand behind Hassan's head, pulled it forward and pressed his mouth against the soldier's full lips. He felt Hassan's tongue enter his mouth, he pressed his own tongue against it and they ground their mouths together. They savored the taste of each other as they gazed into each other's eyes with a look of wonder. This really was man to man. Two alpha males acknowledging their shared beauty and power.

"Oh, wow," said Darius for about the eighteenth time. "Unbelievable!" Minutes had passed and Randy had been busy. He had mercifully untied the balls and stripped Hassan naked, removing his pants and boots but leaving the shreds of his black tank-top hanging round his slim waist. And he had re-tied the soldier into an even more painful position.

Hassan was still against the scaffolding but now his legs were spread wide and chained at the ankles, and his arms were stretched upward in a V. He was spread-eagled, naked, with a leather belt hanging loosely round his neck. The chains attached to his wrists were pulled up over a scaffolding bar and Randy was standing behind Hassan holding the ends. Slowly he was pulling the chains, stretching Hassan's muscular body upward, tighter and tighter. He groaned loudly as the pain in his arms and shoulders became excruciating.

And this is the sight that had Darius drooling in amazement. It was as if this gorgeous muscle god was on the rack, his sensational body being stretched helplessly in agonizing torture. Sweat poured off him, tears spurted from his eyes. His beautiful face swung from side to side, groaning in pain, his thick black hair falling across his high forehead. Darius thought he had never seen anything more beautiful.

Randy too was blown away by the sight of the magnificent naked soldier. He secured the chains and came round to admire the spread-eagled man from the front. "God, you're beautiful," he breathed, running his hands over the perfectly sculpted chest. "I see now why my buddy's beauty made you want to torture his body. And that's why I have to hurt you Hassan. You know that. You should understand better than anyone. And you know what comes next."

He pulled the belt from around Hassan's neck, raised it high and brought it crashing across Hassan's magnificent chest. The leather bounced off his pecs and Hassan screamed. But that's all he could do; he was spread-eagled so tightly that he couldn't move, couldn't shield his body from the whip. Time and again he felt the searing pain of the whip, across his chest, his shoulders, his flexed stomach and his thighs. Then Randy walked round to the back and began applying the belt to his ass.

Jesus, that ass... two perfect white globes bouncing under the repeated lash of the belt. Hassan's desperate screams were drowned by the roar of the freeway overhead. Suddenly Randy stopped and gazed at the ass, now striped red. He was moving on instinct now. It was no longer anger, no longer revenge ... it was pure, animal lust.

He went round to the front and pressed his body against Hassan's, his eyes staring at him like lasers. He reached behind him and cupped his hands round the mounds of his ravaged ass. "You have a magnificent ass, Hassan. You are a gorgeous man. And you know what you want now, don't you?"

Hassan gazed at him, hypnotized by his eyes, and stammered, "Yes, sir. You have fought me ... beaten me. You have tortured my balls ... stretched and thrashed my body. You have broken me. You are magnificent. And now..."

"Now ...?"

"Now I want to feel you inside me. I want you to fuck me, fuck my ass."

Randy smiled. "You knew it would come to that. Right from the start, Hassan, you knew it would come to that. You knew I would own your ass."

There was no more to be said. The sight of the bound and helpless bodybuilder had made Randy's cock rock hard. Standing behind him he pressed the head between the cheeks of his ass. He breathed in his ear, "This is the way one male claims ownership of another, Hassan. Now I am your master." The scream shattered the air as Hassan felt the huge rod enter his ass and plunge deep inside his gut. His face flew from side to side, but his spread-eagled body was bound tight and he had no way of avoiding the pain of the piston ramming inside him.

Hassan's breathing was ragged and sweat poured down his gleaming body. The pain in his ass spread through his entire body, setting it on fire until ... until it was no longer pain, but the carnal heat of animal desire. This beautiful man was inside him, ravaging his ass, possessing him. He had never felt such overwhelming strength. He was alive, wanted more ... more pain. "Oh man," he groaned. "Yeah, fuck my ass, sir. It feels incredible. Harder, man. Fuck me harder. Own my ass!"

Randy was blown away by the furnace-heat of the man's ass and by the desperate yearning in his voice. A feeling of supreme power raged through Randy's body as he pounded the man harder than he had ever fucked anyone. This was his triumph, he was breaking this beautiful stallion, taming him, claiming ownership. He was supreme, the master, and he yelled like a warrior as his cock exploded deep inside the man's body.

Hassan screamed as he felt Randy's cum pour inside him, felt his own cock blast a stream of juice high in the air and watched it splash into the mud at his feet. For a few seconds everything went black. As he slowly regained consciousness he sensed Randy standing before him. He opened his eyes and found himself staring mesmerized into the swarthy demon face of the man who had possessed him. He was in a trance. "Who are you?" he groaned. "What are you?"

"You should know by now, Hassan. I am your master. Tell me, man. Say it."

Hassan stared into the steely blue eyes. "I submit, sir. You are my master. You are the best."

"Dude!" Darius's voice on his cell phone was conspiratorial. "You are never gonna believe what's going down, here at the site." There was no way he could stop himself sharing this with Pablo. "It's awesome, dude. I met this guy at the gym, the muscle-god of all time ... gorgeous. And for some reason Randy hates him ... he's torturing him big time. I've never seen the boss like this. And you should see the guy ... that body ... spread-eagled. Name's Hassan."

"Never heard of him," said Pablo. Darius had no idea that he was starting a ball rolling ... probably would have loved the idea. He and Pablo had never been told the war story of Mark and Hassan. But Jamie had ... and he was standing next to Pablo as he shut off his phone. "I love that guy to death," Pablo said, "but hell, his fantasies. The latest one has Randy torturing some gorgeous guy down at the site. Even claims to know his name... ever heard of Hassan?"

He was surprised at the effect the name had on Jamie. His eyes opened wide with shock and he picked up his cell phone and hit the speed dial. Jamie knew that Mark was just finishing his shift. He had to warn him...

Darius had put his phone away and had picked up the camera when he heard Randy's voice. "Hey, punk. Get your ass in here." Busted! ... the boss knew he was watching. He scrambled down from the trestle, rushed round to the gate and came in. He stared in awe at the naked figure of the broken soldier, still tightly spread-eagled.

"Hassan," Randy said with obvious enjoyment. "You know my friend Darius of course. Spent time with him at the gym, apparently. But, unless you've seen him in the shower, there's one thing you don't know about him. I call it my secret weapon. Show him, kid."

Darius knew exactly what he meant. He unzipped his pants, pulled out his black cock and let it hang free ... all ten inches of it. As he gazed at the erotic sight of the bund muscle-stud, body striped with the marks of the belt, his huge cock grew rigid and stood straight out, pointing at Hassan.

Hassan stared at the massive pole in awe and fear. Surely not ... there was no way ... He turned his eyes to Randy. "No, man. Not that. I've never seen such a ... I couldn't take it ... please, sir. I can't."

Randy ignored him. "You know what to do, punk. He's all yours."

Darius was in dreamland. The boss was ordering him to ... did he mean it? This man he had drooled over. He walked behind him and stared at the perfect ass, striped red from his beating. Oh, man, this was the chance of a lifetime. He put the head of his cock against the ass and looked over Hassan's shoulder at Randy, waiting for his nod of approval. Randy came close to Hassan and pressed their chests together. Their eyes were inches apart.

"There's something you have to know, Hassan. I am the boss. Every man I live with has submitted to me before he was accepted into the house. And when I say submit, I don't mean with words ... too easy. I mean they've shown me. And so will you, stud. See, I can make any man cum without touching himself. You will keep looking into my eyes and you will perform the ultimate act of submission." He glanced at Darius. "OK, kid, do it."

Hassan again found strength in Randy's steady blue eyes. They hypnotized him, so that when he felt the long, stiff pole pushing into his ass, inch by painful inch, he didn't scream. The pain in his body was intense, but he knew he had to endure it. This was his ultimate trial of strength ... and he wanted to prove to this extraordinary man that he could take the pain.

Randy talked him through it. "I know how it feels, man. I took it once ... every last inch. It's gonna reach deeper inside you than anything you've ever felt. God you have a beautiful face. Those fucking eyes! Now look at me ... Feel the pain in your ass and know that I'm doing it to you. I know you just shot your load for me, but now you have to do it again. Look at me."

Hassan felt the huge shaft pull all the way out then pierce his ass again. It was like a relentless piston ripping into him. The pain was intense, but he could ease it by looking at the stunning face before him. He saw his reflection in the blue eyes ... he was swimming in them. He had to prove himself to him ... prove that he was man enough to submit.

Randy pressed hard against him and felt Hassan's cock crushed between their stomachs. "You feel that, Hassan? You feel the pain in your ass? Now you know what you have to do. You know I've broken you. You know you have to submit. Show me. Let me feel your juice on my body. Look at me Hassan. Look at your master ..."

Hassan was hypnotized. He felt himself drowning in the intensity of the man's gaze, felt the searing pain in his ass. And finally he knew, as never before, the sensation of true, abject submission. "Yes, sir," he breathed. "You've beaten me. I submit to you, sir. I will show you. Here it comes." His body shuddered and his cock blasted a hot stream of cum between their bodies. Randy smiled as he felt the sticky liquid joining their bodies together. He had won ... as he always did.

Darius was aware that something remarkable had happened and shot his own load deep inside the glorious man. The feeling was intense, but soon he became nervous at what would come next and he pulled out. Randy pulled back too and gazed at the broken man. "The final act," he said. "I'm going to urinate on that glorious body. Do you want that, Hassan?"

"Yes, sir. Please, sir. Piss on me." There was a pause, then Hassan watched the stream of piss blast from Randy's cock, felt the hot, rancid liquid pouring over his face, his chest, his entire naked body.

"Thank you, sir," he whispered and hung his head in defeat and humiliation.

There was a long, silence. Nothing moved. Then suddenly the stillness was shattered by the crash of the gate bursting open. Randy turned and saw ... Mark!.

After Jamie's phone call the cop had come straight from his shift, and now he stood there in full police uniform, black shirt unbuttoned half way, still wearing his motorcycle helmet. He stood stock still in disbelief at the sight before him ... a spectacular naked man, bound, spread-eagled, his gleaming muscles striped with the obvious marks a whip.

"Welcome," Randy said. "Good to see you, buddy. Here, I believe you know this guy from the past."

He grabbed Hassan's hair and pulled his face up ... the face of a broken man, streaming with sweat and piss. He held the head up as Hassan opened his eyes and tried to focus. Gradually the image became clear ... a stunning uniformed cop, standing legs astride. He saw the cop reach up and remove his helmet, then run his hand through his tangled blonde hair. He was beautiful, magnificent.

Hanging in chained humiliation, Hassan opened his eyes wide and he took a sharp intake of breath. Tears streamed down his face. From the depths of his despair and degradation came a pitiful sob of recognition.

"Mark!"

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength ... Part 95"