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POVÍDKA A Trial Of Strength - Part 2

I'm glad so many of you were turned on by Part One of this story. Here is

Part Two, and I hope you get off in it just as much.

I love feedback, so please let me know what you think and what you would

like to see next. Story ideas are always welcome. Email me at

rw6789@aol.com. But most of all, enjoy the trip.

Rob Williams


A Trial of Strength – Part Two


A casual acquaintance between two strong-willed, straight men has

unaccountably led to something much stranger, which neither man can explain

or control.

Both men are stunningly beautiful. Randy, the rugged construction worker,

dark, swarthy, demon-like, black tousled hair and square stubbled jaw, is

the picture of heavily muscled masculinity. Bob is also a gorgeous body

builder, perfectly sculpted features and chiseled muscles, but he is more

refined, a confident powerful business executive.

Initially good buddies, sharing Randy's shabby motel room, their peace is

shattered when Rob inadvertently angers and offends Randy. The

construction worker decides he has to assert his supremacy, show Bob who is

master. He ties him up, beats and flogs him and eventually leaves the big,

muscular man crumpled in the shower in a pool of piss and cum.

With one last look at the beaten slave he now owns, gleaming with piss and

cum, Randy leaves the bathroom. Sated, but confused, he staggers back into

the bedroom.


Now that he had cum Randy's mind was reeling. He didn't want to think

about what had just happened. He put it down to drink – and to his

familiar runaway anger. All he had wanted to do was punish the guy for his

behavior on the bed, and he had done that totally until the big man, tough,

masculine and dominant though he was, had begged for mercy.

Even now his victim was lying beaten and sobbing in the bathroom, naked in

a pool of both guys' piss and cum. He had been thrashed, destroyed,

totally humiliated. The big, straight, alpha male had begged to be pissed

on. That was it. Enough was enough. It was over. Randy lay exhausted on

the bed, on his back, his hands behind his head, eyes half closed. He

started to doze.

In the bathroom Bob exactly fit the picture etched in Randy's mind. Every

muscle in the big man's body ached and when water dripped on his tits they

burned as if they'd been hit by molten lead. He was beaten, exhausted, a

wreck of the man he had been when he came into the motel room.

He lay there for a long time, trying not to think about how totally he had

been demolished. Finally he tried to move but realized that his hands were

still tied behind his back. Sliding in the deep pool of urine he tried to

move his arms, but slipped back down, his face flat on the floor half

covered in urine.

The shock made him gasp, which made him swallow a mouthful of piss. He

retched and that made him redouble his efforts, so he was eventually able,

slowly and painfully, to move onto his back, slide his arms back down and

over his feet, so they were in front of him. He pulled at them and

realized that, in all his struggling, they had come a bit loose. Soaked as

he was he was able to work his wrists and finally, excruciatingly, pull one

out through the rope.

He breathed deeply for a few minutes and then pulled himself unsteadily to

his feet. He didn't think of cleaning up or drying off. He just wanted to

get out of there. He staggered to the door and saw Randy lying half asleep

on the bed. Even now, after all he had suffered, there was a twinge of

admiration for the swarthy construction worker who had beaten and

humiliated him so completely.

But enough of that. He looked around for his clothes. His body was still

gleaming, stinking with piss and he ached all over but he managed to pull

on his jeans, not bothering with underwear, and to struggle into his

boots. He found the torn remains of his tank top and pulled it on. He

gasped as the wet shirt brushed his ravaged nipples.

This noise made Randy stir and he half opened his eyes to watch his beaten

slave struggle to pull himself together. Even though he still admired the

gleaming muscles he had so recently tortured he just wanted the man to get

out of his life. He watched as Bob reached behind his neck, unfastened the

leather collar and let it drop to the floor.

Bob picked up his denim shirt and stumbled to the door. He almost fell

against it and felt for the doorknob. The door was double locked and he

couldn't work out how they opened. Randy watched him get more frustrated

as he tried to escape. Eager for him to get out Randy pulled himself off

the bed and over to the door. He reached down to the locks and easily

freed them. He opened the door for Bob to leave.

Only now did Bob look up into Randy's face. The two pairs of eyes met and

bored into each other. What the fuck was going on? Randy tried to say

"Go!" but the word wouldn't come out. Bob tried to leave but his feet were

like lead. It was surreal the way both strong-willed men stood there

gazing at each other, neither moving.


The atmosphere in the room was heavy, full of anticipation and uncertainty.

The two men were entering uncharted waters. Finally it was Bob who moved.

He put his hands on Randy's heavily muscled chest and slowly crumpled to

his knees, running his hands down the full length of the man's body. His

face fell to the ground and he smelled the boots, still stinking of piss

and cum. He was in a trance now as he began licking the boots, slowly at

first and then ravenously. At that moment this was all he wanted, to

service the man who had so totally dominated him.

As he looked down at the handsome face licking his boots, the shoulder and

back muscles gleaming with the effort, Randy was overwhelmed with a sense

of ... what? ... admiration, intimacy...something. He too lost any sense

of what he was doing. He reached down grabbed Bob's hair and pulled him up

until the beautiful, pleading face was level with his crotch. He grabbed

the back of his head and pushed it into his crotch, feeling his dick swell


Then he kicked the man and Bob fell onto his back on the floor. Randy

closed the door and looked down at the muscular stud who was once again his

captive. He gazed down at the fallen straight guy who lay sprawled at his


"Strip," he ordered.

Bob shot to his feet, kicked off his boots, tore of his jeans and ripped

off the tank top. He stood naked in front of his master.

"On the bed!"

Bob jumped onto the bed and lay down on his back. He didn't need telling.

He stretched his legs and arms to the corners ... spread eagled. The

ropes and restraints were still in place from the earlier bondage and it

took just a minute for Randy to make the naked muscular man secure. Again

the two men looked at each other. It was as if they were not sure what

came next ... they were in uncharted waters, but they needed something.

"Free yourself," Randy ordered. Bob tried with all his strength. He pulled

mightily at the wrist ropes, and tried to kick his feet free. The naked,

gleaming, muscles writhed, twisted, strained, and the beautiful face winced

and groaned. His frustration at his failure finally got to him and he

suddenly wanted out.

"Fuck you," he said. "You mother fucking pervert, let me go. I don't want

this. I don't know what's happening here. You must've fucking drugged me

or something. Just let me get the hell out of here. You've fucking

thrashed and humiliated me already. You tied me up, whipped and flogged

me, tore my chest, pissed and cum all over me. What more do you want?"

Right now, all that Randy knew he wanted was to watch this beautiful,

writhing slave try to get free, and plead with him. It was clear he wasn't

yet broken, and this pleased Randy a lot.

Finally Bob's anger and struggle subsided and he lay whimpering and

helpless. Randy went over to his bag and pulled out something made of

black leather. Bob's eyes widened in horror when he saw what it was. A


"No," he groaned. "I want to see you."

Randy made no reply. He went quickly to Bob's squirming head and, with one

last look at the handsome, pleading face, he slipped the hood over it and

with one move fastened it around the neck. There were fasteners at the

eyes and mouth but Randy left them closed. He knew Bob could breathe fine.

He also knew that this was something completely new to Bob and he was

panicking. The body writhed again, pulling and stretching until the

muscles were pumped and gleaming from the effort. The sight was too much

for Randy. He reached down, unzipped his fly and took out his dick. He

started to pump it as he looked down at his writhing, bound captive. It

didn't take long. He shot wads of cum over the hooded face and down over

his naked chest. The man's screaming muscles dripped with the creamy


After a few minutes Randy zipped himself up, picked up his shirt, went over

to the door and left the room, locking the door behind him. The hooded,

struggling slave became still and was left there, unable to see or hear,

bound and spread eagled ... to wait for his master's return.


Out in the street Randy took a deep breath. He realized he was trembling.

He just wanted something familiar, to get back to normal. The construction

site. He walked there and saw the guys starting the night shift. They

yelled at him and asked what the hell he was doing there.

"You're not on until eight tomorrow," his buddy Jack said. "Jeez, you look

as if you've had great sex. Sheila put out again?" Randy looked straight

through the guy and just walked away. He passed the bar and went in.

Sheila was in a good mood.

"Hi, lover boy? Want some action later?" In the past that had always

worked to relax him. Not this time. He just nodded to her and left.

In the motel, Bob lay completely still. Deprived of sight and sound, in

tight bondage, he tried to empty his mind. He was not scared. It was

something else ... an anticipation ... but that was in conflict with a huge

need to get out of this and get his life back. He was a straight married

guy, who had just meant to stop in L.A. for a few hours. Back home he was

respected, a company executive. People called him arrogant sometimes, but

that's who he was.

Now here he was, stripped naked, bound, and waiting for his master. His

master? What the fuck was that? He had to get away from the guy and

forget any of this happened.


Randy walked aimlessly for a couple of hours, unsure of himself for the

first time in his life ... confused, angry. Then he knew what he had to

do. Get rid of the guy. Get his life back to normal. He relaxed and

realized he was starving. He dropped into a greasy Chinese restaurant and

bought takeout. He wanted to get back to the motel fast so he could end

this thing.

When he walked into the room his new resolve almost deserted him. He

looked down at his slave, spread eagled naked on the bed, muscles

stretched, his face hidden by the hood. He did not turn on the light but

opened the blinds so the light from the street lamps streamed over the

beautiful body.

Unable to hear, Bob had no idea his tormentor had returned. Randy knew

this and he stood for a long time looking down at his helpless captive.

His eyes focused on Bob's raw, ravaged nipples and he couldn't hold back.

With a sudden moved he clamped his fingers on the tits and twisted.

The shock, surprise and pain convulsed Bob's body, his muscles strained and

he screamed into the hood. Just as suddenly the pain stopped. He felt the

hood being unfastened, then removed and he shut his eyes as light blinded

him. Slowly he opened them and he saw Randy staring down at him. Bob was

ashamed to feel his cock getting hard. But Randy ignored that and began to

untie the ropes from his wrists and ankles. Bob sat on the edge of the bed

looking down at the floor.

"Here," Randy said. He gave Bob his jeans and he dug one of his own dirty

T-shirts from a drawer. He flung it at Bob who pulled it on, smelling the

sweat and grease that had come from Randy's body. He gasped as the shirt

brushed his nipples.

"Hungry?" Bob was surprised by Randy's question but immediately realized

he was starved. Without a word Randy opened the takeout and gave Bob a

fork. The two guys ate ravenously, not looking at each other. But the

silence started to get oppressive.

Bob cleared his throat and said, "I'm not gay, you know."

"I know,' Randy said, looking up. "Neither am I."

"It never crossed my mind that you were. You're all man." Embarrassed by

this dumb remark Bob actually blushed. To fill in the silence he said,

"I'll leave as soon as I've finished this."

"Yeah," Randy grunted. "The on-ramp to the 101 South is just down the

street." But they both remembered the last time he had tried to leave and

they fell silent. The air became oppressive again, like a gathering storm

that somehow had to break.

"What the fuck do you want from me, anyway?" Randy blurted out.

Bob looked him in the eyes. "I want you to tie me up, sir."

Randy exploded. "Fuck that! And fuck you! Get out of my life. Fuck you."

The gathering storm broke and Randy lost it. He hit Bob across the face,

then again, and again, hard. This was not the practiced way he had been

careful not to mark Bob before ... this was for real. Bob knew this and

his masculinity asserted itself in force. Part fear, part adrenaline, and

part the pent-up anger at being thrashed, he fought back. He hit Randy

back, slapping his face hard and punching him in the gut.

The fight was inevitable. It was unavoidable that two strong-willed men

like this would end up fighting, in a macho trial of strength, straining

for dominance. Instantly they were on each other, wrestling, punching,

anything they could do to punish the other. They grabbed at the shirts

which were quickly shredded and the two muscular men, now stripped to the

waste, wrestled and sweated.

They rolled off the bed and Randy landed on his stomach. Bob took

advantage of this and twisted Randy's arm behind his back, wrenching it

painfully. Randy yelled in agony and tried to get free. But Bob held

tight and came down on the wounded arm with his knee. He turned Randy

over, still twisting the arm behind his back.

Randy lay there looking up at the strong muscular stud who was thrashing

him. With his free fist Bob punched Randy in the gut, again and again.

Bob no longer knew what he was doing. He just looked down at the man who

had humiliated him and now took his revenge.

Completely stunned and winded, Randy lay still and Bob followed up his

assault. He knee-dropped his victim again and again, on both arms, his

heaving chest, his abs, and punishingly on his solid thighs. The

construction worker screamed in agony at each blow and through a blur of

sweat and pain dimly saw the muscular stud above him who was fast becoming

his destroyer.

He managed to groan, "OK man, you've won. I'm done. I submit."

But Bob didn't let up and the pounding continued. He focused now on the

pecs, hammering them with his fists as Randy tensed them mightily so their

hardness would ward off the worst of the pain. Beaten into near

unconsciousness Randy still, somehow, with all his force of will, resisted

passing out. In the back of his mind, through the mist of pain, he

realized that if Bob won, he would never see him again.

He looked up at the man who had thrashed him near senseless standing

astride him, the arrogant winner. And, with the last desperate, heaving

action of a wounded animal Randy did the only thing left to him. With his

right foot he aimed wildly at the top of Bob's muscular legs and crashed it

with all his strength into Bob's balls. Everything changed. Bob reeled

back in agony, clutching his balls in a sudden scream of pain. It was so

bad he almost passed out.


Both men, exhausted, half conscious, heaved in pain, trying to re-gather

their senses. Bob was kneeling back against the side of the bed, his legs

back under it and his body stretched limply back over it. He could no

longer think or act – he was just aware of the agony in his balls.

Randy too was still, aware only of his aching, ravaged body.

They both began to stir but Randy came to his senses just a bit sooner than

the other man. He eased himself painfully to his feet, reached down and

pulled off Bob's jeans. Leaving Bob arched backward over the bed he

reached for the ropes, tied them to Bob's ankles and pushed his legs back

under the bed.

He drew the ropes under the bed, up over the other side and tied the other

end to his captive's wrists. He drew the ropes tight so, now naked, Bob

was stretched backward over the bed, his knees on the floor. The pain in

his balls was replace by his screaming arm, chest and back muscles as the

ropes got tighter. His arms were pressed against his head as they

stretched straight up to the other edge of the bed.

Randy stood up and l looked down at his prisoner. The chests of both men

heaved and their bodies streamed with sweat. Slowly Randy recovered and

stared at the now naked man at his mercy. Bob was on the rack. Randy had

never done this or even seen it. He started to get hard.

But his anger did not subside. "You fucking asshole! You think you can

thrash me? You think you can top a man like me? Nobody has ever done that

... or even had the balls to try. You've got guts, I'll say that, and

you're tough ... but you're stupid. And now you're really gonna pay."

Bob was helpless, immobile. He closed his eyes, then opened them to stare

at the angry construction worker and realized he has lost ... he had been

beaten. He waited for Randy to take his revenge.

Randy reached down for the whip, but not for more flogging. Not right now.

There was something else first. Going to the other side of the bed he put

the handle of the whip through the ropes like a garrote. It was a

tourniquet. Just a slight turn tightened the ropes. Bob realized that he

was on the rack and Randy was his executioner. Thoughts of the Inquisition

flashed through his mind. He begged Randy to stop.

"Please, man. This is too much. I ... I was wrong to challenge you. You

are the top man ... always were, and you thrashed me good. But let me go

now and it's over. Please sir ... I'll do anything. I'm your slave. I'm

begging you ... do anything to me... piss on me, whip me, humiliate me

however you want. Just take this pain away.

"Shut up," was Randy's only response. There was a long pause until Randy

started to turn the handle. His naked body already stretched to its limit,

Bob felt the rope getting tighter, and his arms were pulled even farther

up. The pain started to get intense and he was afraid he would pass out.

His moans and groans got louder and more desperate as his gleaming muscles

were stretched. The veins stood out in his arms, legs and chest. Randy

knew his prisoner was going to scream so he grabbed the torn T-shirt and

tied the stinking cloth round Bob's mouth. The agonized man screamed

through the gag, but it did its work well.

Bob felt that his arms were being pulled from their sockets. He floated in

and out of consciousness as Randy brutally tightened the ropes. When Randy

knew his slave would soon pass out completely he stopped and stood up. He

looked down at the naked muscle stud stretched in agony on the rack. The

handsome face twisted in pain, the head thrashing from side to side. The

body gleamed with sweat and shuddered in agony. Randy was pleased with the


But he still had to take his captive to the next level. He reached down to

the floor, picked something up and held it in front of Bob's face. Through

his haze of pain the agonized man looked in horror and knew what was to

come. He would be hooded. Randy was fast. He ripped off the gag, slipped

the hood over the man's head and fastened it tight around the neck.

All sight and sound was blotted out for the helpless man stretched naked on

the rack. The only sensation he had was the continuing searing pain in his

muscles as they were stretched to the limit.

The muscular stud was now completely helpless and vulnerable. He couldn't

move an inch. He couldn't see, hear or scream. And his naked chest was

being offered to his brutal master. Again, Randy looked down admiringly at

the muscular chest and arms as they stretched and streamed with sweat. He

heard the frantic sobs through the leather hood.

Then he focused on the raw, swollen nipples. He knew that the slightest

touch would send jolts of pain through the man's heaving muscles. But he

remembered the humiliating beating this man had given him and he wanted

full revenge. He knelt over the heaving chest, knowing that his captive

was completely immobilized. He lowered his fingers to the tits ... it was

payback time.


CONTINUED IN "A Trial Of Strength – Part 3"


All 83+ parts of this story you can read on author's site http://www.atrialofstrength.com/

© Rob Williams [rw6789 at aol.com]

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