A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 115 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER:

Alone in the dunes, Zack is attacked. "He was tied up, spread-eagled, helpless before the brutal thugs." After a beating he is rescued by a man he knows well. But the rescuer's inner demons take over and Zack's ordeal continues. "The picture was superb, an iconic fantasy, a black muscle-god in crucifixion pose. He was magnificent, and he was his prisoner ... bound, tortured, his ass being ravaged."

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

ALSO, I urge you to visit my Web-site www.atrialofstrength.com. You can read the whole story, all the many chapters, with extras, including some great artwork. Click on the `Our Story' tab to read it chapter by chapter. Enjoy!

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH -- CHAPTER 115 -- "Zack -- Bound, Beaten, Betrayed"

It was the `sex' word that really grabbed their attention. Pablo, Darius and Jamie were listening carefully to Bob as he explained his plans for the twins.

"I'm trying to make the twins more independent of each other," Bob had said. "From now on they'll be spending several hours a day working apart, but I also want to lessen the intense emotional attachment they have for each other. And this is where sex comes into the picture."

It was all carefully orchestrated, with everyone's participation. Kevin first. One afternoon when he finished work in the office he had been invited to join Mark and Jamie and had been treated to a whole new, erotic chapter in his sex education. Now it was Kyle's turn. He had got off work early at the construction site and Darius suggested he join him and Zack for a drink. Zack had promised to help Bob with Kyle's sex education, just as Mark had done for Kevin.

So here was Kyle drinking beer with Darius and Zack in Zack's small garden. Being alone with these two magnificent black studs made the boy tense with anticipation ... and some nervousness too. Just the sight of them made his dick hard and he felt way out of his league, but Zack quickly put him at his ease. The beer didn't hurt either, and he gulped it with wide-eyed attention as he listened to Zack's calming voice.

"You know, Kyle, I envy Bob having you and Kevin as his boys. He tells me you always do what he wants and he never has to discipline you. And I bet you never mouth off."

Kyle looked a bit confused. Isn't that what every boy is supposed to do, he thought. "Sir, we..." he stammered ... "we would never talk back to Bob. We love him too much."

"Hmm," Zack grinned, turning to look at Darius. "Wish I could say the same."

"What, sir?" Darius protested. "You're not suggesting that I mouth off to you."

"Me and everyone else," Zack said. "You know what Randy says ... `Darius has got a mouth like a megaphone'. I heard you even gave lip to Bob when he was talking to you boys."

"Oh that was nothing, sir. All I told him was, Randy being the boss and all, there's a few things you have to know about handling him..."

"You see !" Zack said, cutting him off. "That's just what I mean. See how you contradict me? How the hell do you get off telling Bob how to handle Randy!? No, you've been getting way too full of yourself lately, boy. About time I cut you down to size."

Kyle was startled at the turn in the conversation until he saw the gleam in their eyes and realized this combative tone was not unusual for them. They seemed to thrive on it, and Kyle even suspected that this time a lot of it was for his benefit.

And there Kyle was quite right. Zack was deliberately baiting his boy, and now he grinned at Kyle. "Have you ever seen what a master does when he punishes his boy, Kyle?"

Kyle frowned in thought and blushed at something he remembered. "Only once, sir," he said, "when Randy punished Pablo for fighting with Jamie. He ... he tied him up, with his arms stretched up to a tree branch."

"You nailed it, kiddo. That's what happens to a boy who fights or mouths off. Like I said, my boy here has been getting uppity lately and it's time I showed him who's boss around here. Now you just sit tight, Kyle, and watch. And feel free to give me a hand any time you feel like it." Then his tone hardened as he turned to Darius. "You boy, on your feet."

Darius leapt to his feet and stood at attention. He had a good idea what was coming and, far from being afraid, his body tingled with excitement. Seeing Zack like this was a huge turn-on, and a reason he loved being his boy. He hung his head as Zack disappeared into the house, returning in a moment with two coils of rope. "Over here, boy," he ordered. "Obediently Darius walked across the garden and stood beneath a high tree branch.

Zack was expert at this. In seconds the ropes were tight around the boy's wrists, the other ends thrown over the tree branch. Zack pulled the ropes and secured them, so Darius's arms were stretched high, his body pulled taut. He was bound, helpless, at the mercy of his master.

Kyle watched from a few yards away, his eyes wide with excitement, taking big gulps of beer. He was glad of the beer buzz when he saw what came next. Zack was circling round the helpless boy running his hands over his white T-shirt, squeezing the nipples through the cotton, pressing his fingers into the pecs, making Darius gasp.

"So," he growled. "You've been mouthing off to me and my buddies, is that right boy?"

"No, sir ... yes, sir ... I don't know sir."

"Well I do, boy, and this is what happens to a boy who gets lippy with me. He grabbed the neck of the T-shirt, yanked it and ripped it to shreds. Then he stood in front of him and, with the hint of a smile, slowly pulled off his own shirt. Darius's cock jolted in his pants as he saw the black muscle-god stripped to the waist, his muscles gleaming in the afternoon sun. Kyle gasped too as he watched master and boy face off, the one helplessly bound, with the shreds of his T-shirt hanging round his waist.

"Now, I'll ask you again, boy. Were you disrespectful to my buddies?"

"No, sir," Darius said defiantly.

Zack's eyes blazed. "I think you can do better than that, boy." He bent down and picked up another length of rope from the ground. He flicked one end of it lightly at Darius's naked chest, making his body jolt. He walked round him, flicking the rope at his back, his shoulders, chest and stomach. Each blow made Darius's body flex and he was soon writhing in an attempt to avoid the blows. Though not intense, the pain was real, but Darius's cock was hard as steel in his jeans. His defiance was making his master angry and that was a huge turn-on for the boy.

"OK, we'll try again. You gonna apologize for talking back to me?"

Darius remained mute, pursing his lips. "Right, you asked for this, boy," Zack growled. He raised his arm and the rope circled round the boy's back with a thud, stinging his flesh. This time the pain was too much and Darius howled.

"OK ... OK, sir I give up. I did mouth off to Bob and to you, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

Zack turned round to Kyle with a triumphant grin. "See, Kyle. I can always get the truth out of my boy. Now, what do you think I should do to him?"

"Fuck him, sir!" Startled, Kyle looked around as if someone else had shouted the words. But it was he who had blurted them out impulsively, he was so blown away by the sight of the black master disciplining his boy. Kyle was stroking his own cock as he watched in awe.

"Good answer," Zack laughed. "You'll be a master yourself one day, kid." He turned to Darius. "So, boy, you heard what the kid said. You're gonna get your ass fucked."

"Yes, sir," Darius said meekly, but there was the hint of a smile in their eyes. Even though Darius knew they were playing a scene for Kyle's benefit, he was not called the King of Fantasy for nothing. So he easily slipped into fantasy mode, imagining himself the bound captive being punished by the black slave master, and humiliated in front of a young boy. His cock was hard as a rock.

Staring into his eyes Zack yanked open Darius's jeans and pulled them down over his ass, and the boy's huge cock sprang out. Zack opened his own pants and pulled out his thick black club, holding it in his fist. "See this, boy. Hard as steel. And you know where it's going?"

"In my ass, sir."

"Damn right!"

Zack walked behind Darius and without touching him, pressed the head of his dick between the twin black globes of the boy's ass. He said quietly, "And this is what you get for giving your master lip, boy." With a violent thrust of his hips the rod pistoned into the boy's ass and Darius screamed with the piercing pain, his body jerking against the ropes binding him. Zack, his cock buried deep inside his boy, now pressed his naked chest against his back, wrapped his arms round the front and squeezed his nipples.

Zack shouted, "Watch this Kyle. This is how a master fucks his boy." The fuck was fast and furious. Again and again the powerful black bodybuilder slammed his hips forward, burying his cock deep inside the tortured ass. There was no escape for the victim, helplessly crushed by the muscular arms wrapping round him as his ass was being pounded.

Suddenly Darius's capacity for fantasy evaporated. This was real. This was Zack, his master, punishing his ass as only he could. The pain was real too, as the iron rod rammed inside him again and again. He was helpless, at the mercy of this dominant muscle-god ... and he was in heaven. Always, whenever he looked at Zack during the day, this is what he visualized ... submitting his body to his master's ferocious sexual desires.

Kyle had initially recoiled at the sight of the brutal penetration and the sound of Darius's scream. But even he sensed that this was an intense expression of love between the two beautiful men. In any case, any scruples or inhibitions Kyle had were overwhelmed by the pure eroticism of the scene before him. As if in a trance he got to his feet, still gripping his cock, walked forward and dropped to his knees in front of Darius.

His gaze was riveted on the huge, black, ten-inch cock shuddering before him. As Darius was fucked from behind his body jolted forward and the stiff rod bounced inches from Kyle's eyes. The boy was hypnotized by it. It was all he could see, all he was aware of. He saw the sticky drip of pre-cum from its tip and, leaning forward, stretched out his tongue to catch the translucent drops.

Soon his lips were round the swollen head of the cock and he was swallowing the pre-cum, intoxicated by the bitter-sweet taste. The cock pulsated in his mouth as the bound body was repeatedly thrust forward by the cock hammering from behind. All Kyle's senses were momentarily fixated on the smell, taste and feel of the cock, but then a voice intruded. It was Zack, shouting to Darius.

"This is it, boy. You want me to give you my juice ... you want me to pour my cum inside your ass?"

"Yes, sir," Darius screamed. He too had lost all sense of time or place. All he could feel was the huge cock as it pistoned inside him, and the exquisite sensation of the young mouth licking the sensitive head of his cock. "Please, sir," he yelled again. "Shoot inside my ass, sir."

Kyle pulled back from the cock and looked up at the sculpted, ebony features of the master as the head flew back and the voice howled. Darius felt hot liquid blast deep inside him. He felt heat rising into his groin, up the shaft of his cock. Suddenly Kyle's face was knocked backward by a powerful jet of warm juice splashing into it. It slammed onto his forehead, his eyes and over his cheeks and chin. He gasped, opened his mouth and almost choked on the flood of semen pouring from Darius's huge cock.

When their orgasms were spent there was near silence in the garden as the men fought to calm their raging heartbeats and ragged breathing. Kyle's head fell forward, exhausted, and through the film of cum over his eyes he saw at his feet a pool of white liquid. He suddenly realized it was his. In his euphoria he had been unaware that his own cock had exploded as his face was smothered in the cream from Darius's cock. He looked up again and was surprised to see Zack and Darius kissing passionately, a final display for Kyle of the intense love between master and boy.

Suddenly Kyle felt adrift. He had shot his load, his body was drained and now that he was back in the real world he wanted ... he needed ... his brother. And it was just at that moment that he heard the garden gate click, he looked up and saw Bob and Kevin walk in. He sprang to his feet and the twins stared at each other. Kevin had a glow about him after his erotic experience with Mark and Jamie ... and Kyle had cum running down his face.

There was a moment of uncertain silence and then ... laughter. The twins started to laugh uncontrollably as they were reunited and able to release all the joy and excitement of the last few hours. They fell into each other's arms and Kevin licked the cum from his brother's face. They walked back toward their guest-house, arms over each other's shoulders, but as they left they turned to smile at Bob and said in unison, "Thank you, sir."

Then they were gone, and Bob grinned at Zack and Darius. "Well they sure have a lot to talk over. Thanks for everything, guys. Seems to have worked better than I could ever have hoped for."

"Believe me," Zack said, "the pleasure was all ours, eh Darius?"

"I'll say!" Darius looked at Bob ... "And any time you want a repeat performance, sir, just say the word. See the way I see it, what the twins really need is ..."

Zack interrupted with a clip round the head. "You never learn, do you, motor-mouth?"

And so, thanks to the sexual skills of Bob's buddies, the twins' education had taken a big step forward, and from now on they were less obsessed with doing everything together. And with the drama of Randy and Steve now settled, the group's regular routine resumed and calm was restored ... for now, anyway.

Zack took advantage of this lull in the group's activities to announce that he was going off on a short trip. He was taking a couple of days off work as he needed to do a few repairs on his shack in the Guadalupe dunes about three hours up the coast. It was something he'd been putting off for months and felt he couldn't delay any longer. Darius was pissed off that he had to work, but Zack suggested a solution.

"Listen, kid. "I'll go up Thursday morning on the Harley and when you get off work Friday afternoon you can drive my truck up and we'll spend the weekend together. On Sunday we'll put the bike in the back of the truck and drive home together. How's that grab you?"

Darius was thrilled with the prospect of spending time with Zack in the deserted dunes, and so when Thursday came he hugged him goodbye and, with his cock stiff in his jeans, watched the shirtless muscle-stud roar away on the motorbike. In half an hour Zack was speeding up Pacific Coast Highway, reveling in the feel of the wind on his face and chest, and the prospect of being alone in natural solitude for the next twenty-four hours.

He had missed the calming atmosphere of the deserted dunes, and his spirits rose as turned off the road and bumped over the sandy trail toward the beach. He was happy, as always, to see his old one-room shack nestled in the dunes, the place he had retreated to for weeks after the death of his wife. It was the place, also, where he had met Bob and the other guys ... especially Bob.

He walked round to the beach in front of the shack and gazed at the old door-frame that stood about ten yards away, an abandoned relic of an old shed that had once stood there. In his mind he saw Bob bound naked, spread-eagled in the frame, as he had been all that time ago. He could hardly believe he had done this to him, and even less Bob's reaction of sexual excitement at having his body worked on.

Zack felt his cock growing in his jeans as he ran his hands over the empty door-frame. Yeah, the hooks were still there at the top and bottom corners, and there was even a coil of rope on the old wooden patio of the shack. He came out of his trance and shook his head to rid himself of the erotic image of Bob in bondage. He had come here to work, not to fantasize.

His tools were all in the shack so he went in, stripped naked and pulled on the old, ragged shorts that were all he usually wore when he was here. Half an hour later he was hard at work, so engrossed in hammering planks over a gap in the patio floor that he was unaware of the approaching footsteps until he heard the voice over the sound of the waves.

"Hey, man. What's up?"

He lifted his head and immediately tensed. He was used to being alone, but he had dealt before with incidents of harassment by red-neck assholes who resented blacks in general, and especially a handsome, muscular black man living in the dunes. And he instantly sensed that this was one of those times. The two men who had approached definitely fit the description of rednecks ... tall, bearded, heavy-set, wearing black jeans, sleeveless T-shirts and heavy boots. One was older than the other ... probably father and son.

Every nerve in Zack's body was on alert. He replied curtly, "Fixing my shack ... minding my own business. What's it to you?"

"Oh, me and my boy was just passing. Thought we'd check you out."

By this time they were circling each other. Zack tried to keep both of them in his sight line, watching their every move, but he made the mistake of letting one of them circle behind him. He was about to spin round when he suddenly felt a strong arm clamped round his throat from behind in a vicious choke hold. In an instant reflex he smashed his elbow back into the man's ribs, straining to free himself. He knew he was strong enough to do that and felt the grip weaken, but suddenly the younger guy delivered a shattering forearm smash to Zack's stomach.

It was a sickening blow, knocking all the wind out of him. His body crumpled just long enough for the thug behind him to strengthen the choke hold, applying it with brutal force. Even as his mind dimmed Zack was aware that the hold was a sleeper, cutting off air, leading to blackout. The last thing he was conscious of was cursing himself for getting trapped. Then darkness closed in and his body went limp.

"Well look what we got ourselves here, as fine a nigger as I ever saw."

The rasping voice broke into Zack's consciousness and as his head started to clear his first sensation was sharp pain in his arms. Strength slowly returned to his legs and he managed to stand up straight. And it was then that he became aware of his situation. The door-frame! He was tied to the frame, his wrists roped to the hooks on the upper corners and his ankles to the bottom. He was naked, except for the ragged shorts, spread-eagled, arms and legs stretched outward, helpless before the brute sneering at him.

"See, nigger," the man snarled, "this here's a nigger-free zone ... whites only. We don't take much to guys your color, and when we find you trespassing here we have to persuade you to leave. Besides, we enjoy working on black boys, especially ones as pretty as you are. But me and my boy'll soon change that."

"Hey, look here!" It was the younger man, coming out of the shack, and Zack winced when he saw what he was holding. "Look what I found inside, pa. A fucking bull-whip."

The first guy threw his head back with a malicious laugh. "Well whad'ya know? The asshole even provides his own weapons." It was the same whip Zack had used on Bob all that time ago, when Bob had been in the same position Zack was in now. But then Bob had faced a friendly captor. These guys were out to do serious harm. Zack looked up and pulled at his wrists but he knew it was hopeless.

"Wow, will you look at those black muscles ripple, son. Some body he's got on him. Oh, man, am I gonna enjoy this. Here, give me that thing." The thug grabbed the whip from his son, raised his arm and brought it crashing down across Zack's chest. The pain was intense but Zack clenched his jaw, determined not to give them the satisfaction of his screams.

"Oh yeah, pa," the son said. "That body jumps real good. Do it again, pa." A second lash of the whip curled round Zack's back, making every muscle in his body flex against the pain. The magnificent black body, stretched to its limits, writhed in helpless bondage. The younger man approached and grabbed Zack's balls through his shorts, squeezing them hard.

The thug sneered inches from Zack's face as he winced from the excruciating pain in his balls, tears spurting from his eyes. "Not such a stud now are ya, big boy? You wait `til my daddy and me's done with you and you'll be down on your knees begging to suck our dicks. Here's something to be going on with," and he spat hard into Zack's face. He smirked, watching his spit pour down over the handsome, chiseled features. "That's just the start, asshole. I'm gonna enjoy watching you crawl. OK, pa, you work on his back while I play with his balls."

Zack found out that there was no truth in the old saying that you can only feel one source of pain at a time. He felt the searing lash of the bull-whip across his back, again and again, while the agony in his tortured balls intensified. All that, and the humiliation of rancid spit running down his face as he hung helplessly from the ropes.

He saw the ugly sneer on his captor's face as the agony in his balls intensified and the lash rained down across his back. His magnificent body was writhing, streaming with sweat. Pain raged through every muscle and sinew and he knew he couldn't take much more before the welcome oblivion of unconsciousness.

Then, through the mist of pain, he heard a voice behind him. "Not bad, guys, but how about taking on someone who is not so ... well ... so tied up? Now there's an offer you can't refuse."

The younger thug let go of Zack's balls and leapt past him to attack the man who had spoken behind him. Zack's mind cleared instantly and all his senses were on alert. One thing he was sure of ... he knew that voice, that accent. He heard a thud behind him and the thug flew into view again, reeling backwards from an apparent fist to the jaw. His assailant lunged after him and confronted the older man. And now Zack saw his face for the first time.

It was Hassan.

The Marine, stripped to the waist, barefoot in green fatigue pants and tank top, had his hands round the throat of the older man, who was gripping his wrists, trying desperately to tear them apart. Hassan's superior strength would have made short work of him, were it not for the son who had recovered and came behind Hassan, clamping his arms round him and behind his neck in a full-nelson. He dragged him backward and the father sprang free. "Hold him, boy. Hey, what's this, we got an Arab this time. OK, asshole, your turn."

Zack struggled desperately to free himself and come to Hassan's aid as he watched the thug smash his fist into Hassan's stomach. Hassan flexed his abs to absorb the blows, his shoulders and neck still held tight from behind. Then suddenly he raised both legs and slammed his feet into the guy's chest. Zack saw Hassan's eyes blaze with anger as he bent forward and launched the younger guy forward over his back, sending him crashing into the older man. But they fell on soft sand and were both quickly back on their feet, facing Hassan menacingly.

Zack held his breath as they approached and then saw something that made him realize Hassan was unbeatable. Hassan rose on his toes and, in a lightning move, he curved his leg up in a high karate kick, smashing his foot against one of the faces. Instantly he switched legs and another kick hit the second face like a rock. Stunned, the men were staggering to their feet when Hassan repeated the maneuver, sending the men spinning to the ground once more.

They knew they were beaten, but managed to pull themselves up and stagger away from the scene and along the beach. Hassan turned to face Zack. He stripped off his tank and used to it wipe the spit and sweat from his face. "You OK, man?"

"Yeah," Zack gasped. "No bones broken. Leave me, man. Get after them."

Hassan looked over Zack's shoulder and saw the two figures receding into the distance with surprising speed. Must have found a second wind, he thought, as he took off after them. He sprinted fast despite the soft sand and was gaining on them, when suddenly they turned and ran into the dunes. He lost sight of them, but followed their tracks, and when he crested the dunes he saw them stumbling into what must be their truck.

He raced forward but it was no good. They gunned the truck and sped away. Hassan hesitated, half inclined to run to his jeep and follow them. But no, he had to get back to Zack and set him free. So he went back over to the beach and started to jog.

Jesus his timing had been perfect. It was a miracle he was here at all, he thought. He had been on one of his regular visits to Vandenberg Air Force Base just down the coast. He had called Mark, as he usually did, and Mark had mentioned that Zack was at his shack in the dunes and, as it was so close to the base, suggested that if he had time he should drop by for a swim.

He almost hadn't come, but the prospect of the ocean waves after the dust of Vandenberg had been too much, so he had driven his jeep to the dunes, kicked off his boots and jogged down to Zack's place. He just hadn't bargained for all this. So much for the ocean swim, he thought.

He hadn't realized he had run this far. He could see Zack's shack in the distance and increased his pace. As he got closer the figure of Zack got larger and clearer, motionless, spread-eagled in the doorframe. As he came closer still he saw the face, the chiseled ebony features, the shaved head. He saw the near-naked body, black muscles streaming with sweat in the hot sun, arms, shoulders, chest bulging and rippling, stretched in bondage. The ragged sweat-soaked shorts hugged his waist, and his sinewy thighs flexed as the legs spread wide, ankles roped to the frame.

Hassan stopped in his tracks. The black man in bondage was magnificent. The picture was superb, an iconic fantasy, a black muscle-god in crucifixion pose. He had never seen anything so erotic ... except once. And he began to hallucinate.

Hassan narrowed his eyes and his mind went back several years. There was sand there also, in the desert, the Arabian desert, and the god-like man hanging before him, in chains, was Mark. The man now in front of him was gleaming black, but back then his captive had been a golden blonde, stunningly beautiful, at his mercy. And he had tortured him, whipped him and fucked him. The image made Hassan's cock rock hard in his fatigues. His mind was reeling.

At first Zack could not understand why Hassan had stopped, why he was gazing at him like he was in a trance. But as he looked at the beautiful shirtless Marine, sun and sand shimmering behind him Zack too became mesmerized. The man was spectacular, perfect physique, magnificent chest, broad shoulders, flared lats sloping down past ridged abs to the slim waist cinched by the belt of the fatigues. Zack too felt his cock growing hard in his thin shorts.

Zack shifted slightly to ease the strain in his arms and that slight movement was enough to make Hassan snap back to reality. Slowly he walked forward until he was close enough for the two men to lock eyes. Their bodies were alive as they gazed at each other, Hassan riveted by the gray eyes in the ebony face, and Zack fixed on the Marine's beautiful, slanted almond-shaped eyes.

Now they were face to face. Hassan placed his hands lightly on the sides of Zack's face, held it still, gazed at him, then leaned forward and their mouths touched. Suddenly they were in a ravenous embrace, grinding their lips together, tongues deep in the other's mouth. Hassan pressed his naked chest against Zack's, and rubbed his crotch against Zack's thin, ragged shorts.

Still in tight bondage Zack pulled at his restraints in his desire to touch the soldier's smooth olive skin. His body was on fire as he felt the bulge in Hassan's pants grinding against his. But suddenly Hassan pulled away as reality gripped him once again and he came to his senses. "You're hurt," he said softly.

"Not anymore," Zack said. Hassan made no move to release him and Zack made no such request.

Hassan picked up the tank top he had used before and gently wiped Zack's face again. Then he ran the shirt over his shoulders, up over his arms, and took a sharp intake of breath as he wiped the sweat from the muscles of his sculpted chest. He went down over the waist, then dropped to his knees and wiped the shirt over the muscular thighs, over the calves, then bent low over the feet in an implicit act of worship of the bound god.

Hassan pulled himself to his feet and faced Zack once more. Their eyes locked again as if in anticipation ... of ... what? Many questions hovered in the warm air ... but none were asked. No more words were spoken. Hassan broke his gaze and walked round behind Zack. Now he worked on the back rubbing the shirt lightly over the muscles that were still striped with the lashes of the whip. He bent forward and ran his tongue over red stripes, kissing the muscles of the back that flared upward to the arms still roped to the corner hooks.

Hassan's heart was pounding. Again his mind played tricks as he flashed on the long-ago sight of Mark's golden back. It too had born the marks of the lash, it too had been stretched tight in chained bondage. And it too he had licked and kissed ... bringing himself to arousal before he finally, uncontrollably, had fucked the beautiful captive ass.

He stepped back and gazed at the prisoner's back ... not golden this time but gleaming black, a spectacular body helplessly bound before him. He lowered his eyes, touched the waistband of the frayed shorts ... and pulled them down over the twin globes of the perfect black ass. Hassan's body shook, he spun out of control and howled "YES!"

With the impulse of an animal in heat he yanked open his pants, pulled out his rigid cock and pointed it at the black ass. With one violent thrust of his hips he buried the pole deep inside his prisoner's ass. "Aaaagh!" Zack's scream shattered the warm air, drowning out the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. The body spasmed, the frame shook as the man writhed, pulling frantically at his restraints, trying desperately to escape the huge rod that pistoned inside him.

He struggled mightily but it was no use. The naked black muscle-stud was helplessly impaled on the Marine's iron cock.

The pain was worse than the whipping he had just endured, and shock waves flashed through every fiber of his body. He held his breath as he felt the rod pull back, slowly, further and further... pause ... and then speared his ass again, deeper this time, coming to rest deep inside the furnace of his gut. Again he screamed, then almost instantly was aware of another pain. Hassan was pressing against his back and had reached round to his nipples, squeezing them brutally, twisting them in his fingers.

Zack's chest was on fire, his ass was being plundered, and he was helpless to respond, except to scream and pull wildly at the ropes binding him. Then the fucking began in earnest as Hassan's cock became a jack-hammer, pounding the muscle-stud's tortured ass relentlessly. Zack knew he could not fight it ... and then he suddenly knew he didn't want to fight. This is why he had not asked Hassan to release him. He had known what would happen. And he had wanted it!

He was transformed. It was as if he was standing at a distance watching the incredible scene. He saw the black bodybuilder, the ultimate master, the boss. He was always the top man, a dominant fuck, but not this time. The Marine had found him in bondage, helplessly spread-eagled, the Marine who, in the war, was known to have chained and tortured a beautiful muscle-god to a point where the prisoner had fallen in love with him. And now it was Zack's turn, and he too felt the man's power. There was still pain ... but he loved it. He loved the feel of the Marine's cock as it pistoned inside his ass. He loved the fire in his chest as he flexed his pecs against the fingers ripping at his tits.

"Yeah," he screamed to the wind. "Yeah, man, fuck that ass. Punish him, man, rip that beautiful body. He's helpless man. Pound that ass ... make him beg for release."

The sound of Zack's voice drove Hassan wild. He hammered the ass, totally out of control as all his old instincts for pain and domination seized him. The black stud was magnificent, and he was his prisoner, bound, tortured, his ass being ravaged. The heat in Hassan's cock was incredible and he knew he was close to the end.

"OK, stud," he said. "Let me hear you scream. Let me feel that ass ride my cock. Only one way the pain will stop, man, is when I shoot my load inside you ... when you beg for it." He pulled his cock all the way out, then plunged it back in with a long, vicious thrust that pierced Zack's gut like a dagger. The pain was excruciating and Zack screamed.

"NO! Enough, man. I can't take any more. I give up. I submit to you, man. Please, sir, no more. Please cum inside my ass. Aaah ... the pain. I beg you, sir. Please shoot inside me. I submit, sir ...I'm begging you ...Please!"

Hearing this dominant black muscle-god begging for mercy was too much for Hassan. His cock was in flames and he felt it pulse inside the furnace of Zack's ass. "OK, man," he screamed, "here it comes. Feel your master's juice. Here it is ... aahh"

Zack's body spasmed and writhed as his ravaged ass was brutally impaled one last time and hot liquid blasted deep inside him. His own cock exploded and shot a huge ribbon of cum high in the air, falling far away on the hot sand. It was followed by another stream of juice, and another in a spectacular torrent of semen. His body was shaking, his eyes streaming with tears.

He felt Hassan become still and fall against his back, his cock still inside him. They were both sobbing now, in the ecstasy of release ... and in total confusion. Neither man understood what had happened, what dark demons they had unleashed. It was a long time before their sobs subsided, yielding to the sound of the implacable waves breaking on the shore.

Once again reality hit Hassan like a brick. He came round to face Zack but found it hard to look him in the eye. "Man, what have I done? Jesus, I just went crazy there, totally lost it ... I don't know ... I mean ... Zack, I am so sorry. God, are you OK?"

He was surprised, and relieved, to see Zack smile. "There's a knife in the shack, buddy."

Startled, Hassan shook himself and ran into the shack, found the knife and quickly cut the ropes binding Zack. He caught the exhausted body as it slumped in his arms. He had no idea what to do next but Zack did. He looked up and grinned. "What we need is a drink."

A few minutes later they were sitting in the old wooden Adirondack chairs on the patio swigging beer. There was silence at first, which Hassan broke with the mundane explanation of how he came to be there, his visit to Vandenberg and his phone conversation with Mark. "Seems like I came just in time. What the fuck was the story with those guys, anyway?"

"Listen, I'm black, and I run into racists assholes like those sometimes. They can't stand the sight of a good-looking black man any more than they can tolerate a black president. I was damn lucky you came when you did."

"Yeah, but then," Hassan blurted out. "You were tied up and look what I did then! I didn't release you ... I betrayed you. What the fuck was I thinking?" He paused. "Actually, I know what I was thinking. I was thinking of Mark and what I did to him all those years ago. What scares me, Zack, is that those demons are still inside me, and when I saw you there looking so fucking gorgeous my demons possessed me again and it was like I was back there with Mark. I had to have you, Zack, you were so beautiful, a macho top man, tied up helpless. I just lost it. I had to fuck you, to own you."

Zack smiled again. "Stop beating yourself up, man. We've all got our demons."

"Yeah, but not you."

Zack sighed deeply. "Let me tell you a story that I once told Bob. When I was a kid on a trip up north I came across a field of freshly fallen snow. It was gorgeous, perfectly smooth, glinting in the sun. But it was so beautiful I found it painful. See, I knew it wouldn't last and I couldn't own it, so the only thing I could do was get rid of it, ruin it. Like a crazy kid I ran all over the field until the snow was just a ruined heap. Same thing whenever I see a spectacular sunset. I know it won't last ... that I can't possess it ... so I lower the window blinds and shut it out until it's gone.

He took a swig of beer, and his eyes glazed over. "And then there was Bob, another example of perfect beauty. Shortly after I met him he came to visit me here, just as you did today. And it drove me crazy. You know how gorgeous he is, fucking spectacular, and I couldn't take it. Just like the perfect snow and the sunset I had to own it, hurt it or blot it out.

"So I tied him up just as you found me tied up. I left him and ran a few miles up the beach to be alone. When I came back he was still hanging there, looking magnificent. I wasn't thinking any more. I took that same whip and thrashed him, watched that perfect body twist and writhe under the lash. Then I went behind him, saw those gorgeous white globes and fucked his ass ... fucked him brutally. Like you just said, Hassan, my demons possessed me and he was so fucking beautiful I had to have him, hurt him, possess him. Can you understand that?"

"Wow," Hassan breathed. "I had no idea there was anyone else felt like me. You've just described me exactly. You know, when I tortured Mark in the military he looked so beautiful hanging in chains that I knew I had to own him. I told him I was going to take him to my house in the desert, chain him up and keep him there always, so I could look at him, use him, fuck him. His beauty would always be there for me. Fortunately for both of us he escaped. But he still obsesses me, the same way you did when I saw you naked in bondage. And that's why I did what I did to you."

Zack sighed. "We're not the only ones, buddy. Look at Randy and Bob. Why do you think Randy keeps saying he owns Bob, wants to possess him ... why he's so paranoid about losing him? It's his incredible beauty. If Randy had his way he'd have Bob chained in the basement, just like you planned for Mark."

Another silence. They had unloaded their secrets, revealed their demons to each other and discovered they were the same demons. The pain of beauty, and the need to possess it. Their exhaustion was now emotional as well as physical, but the bond they had created was almost spiritual. Zack looked at his new friend.

"Can you stay tonight and tomorrow, Hassan? I would love your company and we have so much in common that ... well ... maybe we have unfinished business. " He grinned. "Including you teaching me some of those killer karate kicks of yours."

"Tell you the truth, Zack, I would find it real hard to walk away right now ... after all this. Sure I'd love to stay ... share the night and the day with you."

"And my bed," laughed Zack. "Speaking of which Darius is due to come up and join me tomorrow evening. Be great if you could stay another night, with us both."

Hassan smiled for the first time. "Sure, if you think he'd be OK with that."

"Are you kidding? Darius alone with a black bodybuilder and a gorgeous Marine? Hell, I can already see those fantasy wheels of his spinning off their axles."

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" ... Chapter 116