Having fought a vicious fight and won, Randy had taken a brutal revenge on Bob. He systematically tortured, whipped, and savaged the beautiful muscular man until he had broken him totally, leaving him a whimpering, sobbing, bound wreck of an animal. Leaving the beautiful body tied down to the john, a human urinal, Randy went back into the bedroom.


Randy fell face down on the bed. He had never been so tired in his life nor more alive. He had just created a slave out of a proud, tough and arrogant man. His mind flashed on the image in the bathroom a big, muscular man now a sobbing wreck lashed to the john, streaming with piss. It was too much for Randy to take in and he began to fade into a dream-filled sleep.

In the bathroom Bob was beyond rational thought or feeling. He had only a vivid sensation of having been totally destroyed and now thought only of his master. As his battered muscles began to relax he slumped forward, held in place by the ropes binding his arms behind him. As painful as that was he too began to fall into a troubled sleep.

Although there were only a few hours until daybreak, Randy several times needed to take a leak, and he walked groggily to the bathroom. Without a second thought he unleashed his piss on the huddled sleeping stud, who was now his urinal. Bob's dreams were broken by the sensation of more hot, rancid liquid pouring down on him and he raised his face to take the full force of it from his master.

* * *

Dawn finally came and Randy woke in a daze. He had to go back to the construction site in an hour for his day's work and, as usual in the morning, his first need was to take a leak. His big, muscular human urinal stirred, and again the ritual anointing occurred.

When he was finished Randy leaned down and untied the ropes from the water pipe, though Bob's hands were still tightly secured behind him. Randy let him relieve himself into the john and he was, with some difficulty, able to clean himself. But Randy did not permit a shower or any other activity. He intended to leave his slave filthy. He pulled the big man up by the leather collar, pulled him forward and left him lying helpless on the bathroom floor.

Randy realized he was hungry. He quickly pulled on his jeans, boots and a denim, sleeveless work shirt and left the motel room. He locked the door behind him, though there was no fear of anyone coming by. Maid service was almost non-existent in this dump only when someone moved out.

He returned a short time later with fast-food takeout and began to eat greedily. Through the open bathroom door he saw his saw his captive's pleading look and he placed a second container of food in the middle of the bedroom floor.

'Come and get it.'

His hands still tied behind his back Bob began to move forward into the bedroom. His movements restricted, he was able only to crawl on his belly, slowly and painfully, toward the food. Randy watched spellbound as the naked, muscular man more animal than man inched his way forward, a picture of degradation. Randy felt a mix of emotions pride that he had demolished this man so savagely and completely, admiration for the toughness and spirit of the guy who had endured the beating of his life, and even a vague sense of pity for how low the man had sunk. The crawling man reached the food, and there was only one way to eat it. He buried his face in it and swallowed it like a dog.

When the meal, such as it was, was over Randy got ready to leave for the day. Before he did, he went over to the naked man on the floor to make him more secure. He pulled the arms back behind him and tied the wrists by a rope the back of the collar. He did not want him to slide his arms down and in front of him. He would be able to get up and walk but not far. Randy left the room and locked the door.

* * *

As the day wore on the exhilaration of the night before began slowly to dissolve into a different mix of emotions for both men. As reality dawned neither one could really grasp what had happened, and as time dragged on there began to creep in a basic desire for some kind of normalcy. The extraordinary high of the last twelve hours could not possibly be maintained. There had to be a return to sanity.

Around noon Randy came back into the room and gazed down at his magnificent, helpless slave. He had brought more food, which it put on the floor for his prisoner to eat as before. But as Bob gobbled ravenously Randy was overwhelmed by one of his earlier emotions pity for the degradation of this beautiful man.

He sat on the bed and looked down at him. Without even working things out for himself, he instinctively knelt down and untied the shattered wreck of a man. Then, before he had time to reconsider, he left the room and went back to work.

As usual the two men were in sync. Bob suddenly had an overwhelming desire to recover his sanity, regain some shreds of self-respect and reconsider the direction of his life. Without any logical thought he stood unsteadily, found his jeans and boots and pulled them on. He put on the old T-shirt of Randy's, patted his Levis and realized that his car keys were still in his pocket. He let himself out of the room and walked to his car.

* * *

When Randy's day was over he and he came back into the filthy motel room he was not really surprised to find it empty. Not disappointed either, though he still felt a stirring as he bent to pick up the collar that he had so recently placed round the muscular neck of his slave. But all that was over and he needed to purge all those thoughts and clean up his life starting with this wreck of a room.

Newly energized, he stripped the cum- and piss-soaked bed, ripped his filthy clothes from the drawer and tied them all in a bundle. He tore off his clothes and stepped into the shower. He unplugged the tub and watched the pool of piss gradually drain aware. It was as if the searing memories of the past night were draining away too.

When he was clean, he grabbed the bundle of filthy linen but then noticed a couple of items he had missed Bob's shredded and stained tank and the blue briefs he had worn. Instinctively Randy picked them up and buried his face in them, inhaling the maleness of the man he had broken. But he shook his head to rid himself of the sensation, threw the stinking underwear under the bed, left the room with his bundle and walked the few blocks to the nearest laundromat.

* * *

About that time Bob was still driving the streets of Hollywood in something of a daze. He struggled mightily to rid himself of thoughts of the night before, but his aching muscles and burning nipples kept making him flash on images of the long torture he had endured. He had to get over this! He needed to reassert himself. Automatically he headed his car in the direction of a hotel he had stayed in on previous business trips to L.A. He was a Marriott regular and pulled into the plush Renaissance Hollywood Hotel on Highland.

The valet took his car keys with a 'Thank you sir!' Bob looked up and smiled. He needed that 'sir' even if it was the kind that money bought. The desk clerk recognized him (though his filthy clothes raised eyebrows) and he was soon in a large sun-filled room overlooking the Hollywood Hills. He stripped off his jeans and boots, but as he pulled off the T-shirt it scraped his nipples and made him gasp.

Naked now he stepped into the generous shower and let hot water pour over his battered and bruised body. Later, in the hotel's thick bathrobe he ordered dinner from room service and again enjoyed the 'sir' of the waiter. He was back to his old life. He felt an extreme fatigue, greater than he had ever felt, and he fell gratefully into the soft king-size bed. He was asleep almost immediately but a sleep that was full of dreams.

* * *

The next morning in the motel, Randy, got out of the now clean and restored bed and left for work. He knew that the hard, manual, sweaty construction work would complete the cleansing of any wild thoughts that still lingered.

Bob too was in the process of cleansing. He still had his gym clothes in his car and there was a nearby branch of his regular San Francisco gym. In the locker room as he undressed he saw some of the other guys looking at him. He panicked and thought that his body must be a mass of welts and bruises. But he looked in the mirror and saw that Randy had been a master at what he did. Apart from a few red marks and light bruises, his perfect body was unmarked. The guys were simply looking at the big man in admiration.

Bob pulled on his Speedos, went out to the pool and dove in. He swam with long, powerful strokes that helped his muscles regain some of their strength and authority. After that he changed into a black tank and shorts and did a long, intense workout, pushing his muscles hard and watching them flex in the mirror. He was recovering well, he thought but maybe not.

Preparing to do fly exercises with the cables he stretched his arms up to the corners of the equipment and grasped the handles. He admired his taut, strained muscles in the mirror and then it happened. In his mind, his reflection morphed into a naked, muscular man, tied with arms stretched and straining to get free. He looked on mesmerized and it was as if he felt the lash of the belt across his straining pecs. He shook his head to make the image disappear.

Later, when he jumped up to the bar to do pull-ups he again caught sight of himself hanging at full stretch and his mind flew to the naked man stretched in agony on the rack. He had to get a grip on himself, and he knew what he would do.

He had driven from San Francisco with only the clothes he was wearing, so after the gym he went to a clothing store round the corner and bought some dress clothes two short-sleeved white cotton shirts, a pack of three white tanks and white boxers, a pair of tan loafers, socks and a belt. He even threw in a tie so he could reestablish himself as the confident executive he was.

* * *

At the construction site Randy too was having a hard time shaking off earlier images. He and the guys were tying bundles of old beams to be shipped off as trash. As he worked on the ropes he found himself pulling them tighter and tighter and in his imagination the beams became the naked man he had so recently lashed to the wall and the bed. At another point he looked up to see his buddy Jack, shirtless, stretching upward to pull down an old chunk of plaster, and the naked torso dissolved into the straining muscles of a naked man stretched out in bondage.

Randy, too, knew he needed to shake this thing off.

* * *

At the hotel Bob tried to take a nap, but dreams and images kept filling his mind and he became restless as a caged animal. As he tossed on the bed the sheets brushed his still-sore nipples and he gasped. Instinctively he grabbed his tits and pinched them hard with his fingers. The jolt of pain excited him and he almost screamed. Leaping out of bed he saw Randy's T-shirt that he had discarded on the floor. Picking it up he buried his face in it and the faint smell of piss and cum transported him back to the squalid motel room. His old English professor would have called this a Proustian memory, where the sense of smell and touch caused this vivid flashback.

Bob felt his dick getting hard. 'Shit,' he said, 'shit!', and he tossed the rancid T-shirt on the floor. He knew this had to stop. He pulled on a pair of the cotton boxers, then his new slacks and belt. He pulled one of the white tanks over his head and over it he put on the crisp white, short-sleeved shirt. As a finishing touch he put on the tie. He checked himself out in the mirror - he looked great. His shirt was a bit too snug, though. His wife had always bought his dress clothes so he didn't really know his size. But it clung nicely to his torso and showed off his muscular body not a bad thing. He admired himself before going down to the restaurant for an early dinner.

* * *

At the motel Randy was still trying to deal with memories of the last wild night. He stood in the now clean room but still the smell of sweat and piss lingered. He saw something jutting out from under the bed and he pulled out Bob's cum-stained briefs and torn tank. Without thinking, he stripped off his own clothes and pulled on the remains of Bob's underwear. He looked in the mirror and saw, not himself, but the beautiful man he had tortured, just standing there waiting for more. It was like an acid flashback from the drug days of his youth. His dick began to stir.

'Fuck you, man!' he said to the image in the mirror. He needed a drink. He ripped off the clothes, pulled on his jeans and T-shirt and headed out to the bar. Sheila greeted him with a 'Hi, handsome! Want some action?'

'Why not,' the big man replied. 'But first I want a beer, or five or six.'

* * *

After dinner Bob came back to his room but was soon pacing and cursing to himself. He had never been this restless. He needed to get out. He got his car from the valet and started to drive aimlessly through the streets of Hollywood. He actually shook his head to get it clear but it didn't work. He felt his cock stirring and didn't know why. He didn't know where he was. He drove for a long while, not knowing where he was. Eventually, as darkness fell, he found himself pulling into a small parking lot, where he headed for a dark corner and parked. He looked up and realized with start where he was. The motel.

He sat there in the shadows, his gaze fixed on the motel room he now knew so well. He loosened his tie and began his wait, until his head slumped on the steering wheel in a troubled sleep.

He was wakened by voices, laughing and shouting. He looked up and he took a sharp intake of breath as he saw Randy. The big swarthy man had his arm draped around the neck of a woman Sheila as they staggered drunkenly into the motel room. The door slammed behind them and Bob looked in a daze at the closed door. The full impact dawned on him slowly. Randy had put Bob out of his mind. He had turned his back on all they had been through and resumed his old life starting with a night with Sheila.

'Shit,' Bob shouted. 'Shit, shit, shit!' He slammed his hands on the steering wheel and buried his face in his arms. He didn't know why he felt this way, or even what he was doing here, but he was devastated. He didn't know what to do. He stayed there gazing at the motel room door for a long time.

Suddenly the door flew open and Sheila staggered out, pulling her disheveled clothes around her. 'Fuck you,' she screamed over her shoulder. 'What the fuck's happened to you, anyway? You can't get it up and you're a million miles away. It's like I'm not even there? You're mind is totally fucked these days. Just get a life!' Slamming the door behind her she staggered away into the night.

The motel was now dark and still. Bob looked at the room and, as if in a trance, got out of his car, went over to the window and looked through the small crack in the curtains. Inside, Randy was lying on his back on the bed, wearing just boxers. His hands were behind his head and he was staring unblinkingly at the blank wall at the foot of the bed. He was perfectly still.

Bob felt his cock stiffen as he looked at the near naked construction worker. God, he was beautiful. He went to the door and knocked softly.

When he heard the knock Randy thought, 'Goddamn Sheila. She won't give up. I can't handle her right now,' and he stayed where he was. When the knock came a second time he leapt to his feet and was already yelling as he yanked open the door. 'For Christ's sake, Sheila, leave me alone. You just don't.......' but his words died in his throat. It wasn't Sheila. It was a tall, muscular man dressed in neat business clothes, a man he didn't recognize at first until.... His heart leapt. It was Bob.

There was a long pause as the two men looked at each other. Then Randy opened the door wordlessly and Bob walked in. They stood facing each other and locked eyes. That strange, almost hypnotic sensation they had both felt fleetingly when their eyes had first met back in the bar returned, but this time more penetratingly. Staring into Bob's deep brown eyes Randy could see his own reflection. The two men were drowning in each other's gaze.

This was it, why they had inexplicably been unable to suppress all thoughts of the other. They had tried to resume their normal lives, but failed. Now they knew why. Randy's hand moved up to his tie as he prepared to take off his business clothes, but Randy quickly stopped him.

'Not yet.'

Holding him by the back of the neck Randy steered the big man over to the wall opposite the bed. With Bob's back to the wall Randy quickly secured his wrists to the restraints that still hung in the upper corners. He lengthened the rope a little so Bob's biceps were level with his shoulders, his forearms pointing straight up. Bob spread his legs and Randy quickly secured the ankles to the bottom corners of the wall.

Randy withdrew and lay back on the bed facing his captive. God, the man was beautiful. He was fully dressed in a tight, white shirt with a white cotton tank clearly visible underneath stretched over the big pecs. The short sleeves of the shirt slid back to reveal the man's huge, veined biceps. The torso tapered down from broad shoulders to the narrow waist where the shirt was tucked into the belted slacks. The legs strained through the slacks as they were held taught and wide.

Now held motionless, Bob looked intently at the construction worker, and his cock stirred again. The swarthy man, dressed only in boxers lay on the bed, his naturally muscular body, honed by hard labor, glistened with a thin sheen of sweat. The stubble on his chin had thickened in the past two days and his piercing blue eyes were riveted to the bound man.

As he looked at his beautiful prisoner Randy had an idea. He got up and went over the closet facing the wall. Its door was mirrored, floor to ceiling, and he propped it open a little. Then he lay back on the bed. Instinctively Bob looked over to the mirrored door and saw himself. He had often admired his reflection in the gym, but it was never like this. He sure looked like the successful, well-dressed business man that he was except that he was in bondage. It was as if he were looking at another man, a big, proud man, dressed for work in the office, but tied to the wall. What the fuck was going to happen to him? And, incredibly, the sight made his cock start to stiffen.

Randy watched his prisoner look at his own reflection with the stirring of lust. As he saw the bulge in Bob's slacks grow Randy grinned and thought to himself. 'Well, I sure thrashed, tortured and destroyed the man's body. Now time to fuck with his mind.'

And he got up from the bed...........

To be continued in Trial of Strength Part 5


Rob Williams



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