Date: Thu, 24 May 2012 20:00:43 -0400 (EDT)
From: rw6789@aol.com
Subject: A Trial Of Strength - Part 91  by Rob Williams

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 91
By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER
   For the first time Mark tells the harrowing, long-ago story of his
military interrogation.  "I was chained by the neck to the wall of a cell,
stripped to the waist in camouflage fatigues."  His tormentor is the
beautiful, exotic Hassan.  "The soldier's muscular body writhed, shackled
to the wall.  Hassan pulled the head back like a trophy.  It was the
cum-soaked face of a broken man, once proud, handsome, now sobbing in
defeat."

**************

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.

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.
Then click on the `Support' tab, go to the `Contact Us' page and send me
your comments and story ideas.  Enjoy!

*****************

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - Chapter 91 -- "Military Interrogation -- Hassan"

Jamie burst into Bob's room in a panic.  "Please, sir ... you've got to
come.  It's Mark.  Something's wrong with Mark ... and I think it's my
fault."

Bob had just settled down to spend the night with his boys but now he
sprang into action.  "Wait for me," he said to the twins.  "I'll be back."
As they ran to Mark's house Jamie explained that Mark had seemed to be
having a nightmare so he tried to wake him gently by stroking his cock and
balls.  "His eyes opened kinda wild, he screamed and flailed his arms,
hitting me across the room.  He started pacing the room, like he was crazy
or something, so I ran to get you, sir."

When they entered Mark's bedroom he was on his knees, head in his hands,
sobbing.  Bob stood over him and gently laid his hand on his shoulder.
Mark spun round with terrified eyes, then seeing Bob, collapsed at his
feet.  "What was it, buddy?" Bob asked gently.  "A nightmare or something?"

Mark's eyes were still wild, and so were his words, rambling, incoherent.
"I was back there ... in that room, chained to the wall.  I saw it so clear
... stripped to the waist ... fatigue pants ... chain round my neck ... two
guys ... the enemy ... working me over ... interrogation.  They had my
balls, man ... torturing my balls ..." and he collapsed into Bob's arms.

Bob held him tight until his spasms grew still.  "Mark, are you talking
about your army days in the Middle East?  I heard rumors you were taken
prisoner there, but you've never talked about that ... ever."

Mark was pulling himself together and his handsome blonde face was
beginning to relax.  "God, man, I'm sorry.  I was having that nightmare
... saw everything so clear, like I was back there.  Then I felt someone
touching my balls and I guess I freaked out.  Oh, Jamie, my sweet boy.  Did
I hit you, kiddo?"

"It's OK, sir.  I'm fine," said a frightened Jamie.

"Mark, the first thing you need is a drink," Bob said.  "He brought him a
large brandy and Mark swallowed it in one gulp.  The heaving body grew
calmer and Bob said quietly, "OK, now listen, buddy.  Do you think you want
to talk about it?  You know you can trust me ... tell me anything.  Maybe
it would help ... purge those demons."

Mark looked into the calm, steady brown eyes and felt relief sweeping over
him.  "Yeah, man.  You may be right.  I've never told a soul.  Couldn't
face it ... kept it bottled up.  But you, Bob ...  I love you, man."  Mark
heaved a deep sigh.  "Yeah, it's time.  I want to tell you."

*****************

Bob looked over at the still nervous Jamie and said, "Jamie, do me a favor
and go see the twins in my room.  Let them know that I will come back to
them but it might take a while."  He smiled.  "Be sure to tell them I'll
make it up to them."

Hearing this Jamie smiled too, for the first time.  "Right away, sir."

Mark raised his head.  "But when you've done that, Jamie, come right back.
You're my boy ... I want you to hear this too."

As soon as he had left Mark reached under the bed and pulled out a glossy
black and white picture that he thrust at Bob.  "I want you to look at
this, Bob.  It's something Jamie got from Darius, and I know he jerks off
all the time looking at it.  Darius must have ripped it from a book as it
seems to be the third drawing in a series.

Bob's eyes grew wide with astonishment as he looked at the picture.  It was
a finely crafted piece of erotic art, a drawing of a soldier in bondage.
It depicted some kind of military cell, where an interrogation was in
progress.  The prisoner, a Nordic-looking blonde, incredibly handsome,
muscular physique, was stripped to the waist, chained to a metal grill.
His eyes were wide with fear as he stared at his captors.

"Hell, man, I see why Jamie beats off so much looking at this drawing.
It's amazing!  The guy in it looks exactly like you."

There was anguish in Mark's voice as he said, "It doesn't just look like
me, Bob.  It could be me!  That's exactly the way it was.  The guy in the
picture could have been me!  Seeing that picture must have triggered the
nightmare. "  Mark closed his eyes and his body shuddered.  Bob walked over
to a chest of drawers and pulled out an old T-shirt and some sweat pants.

"Here ... you're cold.  Put these on."

As Mark pulled on the pants Bob looked up from the picture to him, then
back again.  The similarity was uncanny ... the same beautiful face, the
same glorious body.  Bob was mesmerized by the drawing, but his
concentration was broken when the door opened and Jamie came back into the
room.  "The guys are fine, sir," he said to Bob.  "They seemed exhausted.
When I left they were almost asleep."

"I bet they were," Bob grinned.  He slid the picture back under the bed,
stood up and steered Jamie into a corner.  "Now listen, Jamie.  Just sit
here and don't make a noise.  If it all gets too much for you, you can
leave quietly."

"I won't leave, sir," said Jamie resolutely.  "He wants me to stay, so I
will."

Bob tousled his hair.  "Good boy."

Bob crossed the room and sat next to Mark on the bed.  "OK, Mark.  You
ready?"

**************

Mark had a faraway look in his eye as he started to relive his story.

"I was an army corporal near the end of my tour of duty in the Middle East.
I was part of a small squad on a special mission to locate an enemy
placement and get information on the ground that couldn't be seen from
aerial surveillance.

We were on foot and we had trouble keeping together on the rough terrain.
In the dark I got separated from the other guys and walked right into an
enemy trap.  I don't remember much except being grabbed from behind and
something being clamped over my mouth.  I must have lost consciousness
right away.

I don't know how much later it was that my head slowly began to clear, and
sensation returned in flashes.  The first feeling was a tightness against
my throat.  It turned out to be a heavy chain securing my neck to something
behind me.  I raised my head and slowly things came swimming into focus.  I
wished they hadn't, because what I saw horrified me.

I was in a small room ... an interrogation cell ... and the opposite wall
was fully mirrored.  What I saw in the mirror was ... myself, chained to a
metal grill behind me, with horizontal and vertical bars.  There was a
heavy chain round my neck, looped back round one of the vertical bars and
padlocked.  My arms had been pulled back behind me, over one of the
horizontal bars, my wrists roped behind my waist.  I was stripped to the
waist, wearing military camouflage fatigue pants."

"Just like the drawing," Bob murmured.

"Yeah.  Uncanny ... it was exactly like that."  Mark took a deep breath.
"You know, it's amazing.  When fear and adrenaline run through your body
your mind becomes crystal clear and you notice everything, every last
detail.  The first thing was a buzzing sound coming from a heavy black box
on a table.  I knew right away what it was, an electric device they used in
interrogation torture.  Wires ran from it out to terminal clamps in the
hands of a soldier crouching on the floor.  And every detail of that guy
will be ingrained on my mind forever.

You won't believe the first thing I noticed about him, despite my fear
... how beautiful he was!  He was young, about the same age as me,
shirtless, muscular physique with dark, exotic features, high cheek bones,
slanted dark eyes and jet black hair.  He was concentrating on the serrated
clamps at the end of the wires, but suddenly he looked up at me and our
eyes met.  There was cruelty in his eyes, but something else too.  His gaze
lingered on my face, then travelled down over my naked chest, stomach and
waist, and finally settled on the bulge at my crotch.

In my heightened awareness I realized that he was feeling the same as me.
Despite our hatred we both had an instinctive mutual respect for each
other's beauty ... even more than just respect.  We were both beautiful
men, me Scandinavian blonde, he with his Middle-Eastern dark looks and
perfectly sculpted body.  Believe me, up to that point in my life I had
never looked at another guy in that way, never felt anything.  But this guy
was something else.  Had circumstances been different we might even ..."

Mark choked back his words and stared silently into some far distance.  Bob
let the silence drag on, then said, "You want to stop, Mark?  You don't
have to do this, you know."

"No buddy, I have to do it.  But the hard part is what comes next.  There
was a second guy in the room, older than the other, an Arab military type
in uniform, dark glasses, black moustache.  He wore a kepi on his head, and
his shirt was open to the waist displaying a hairy chest.  His gaze went
straight down to my crotch, he tore open the fly and put his hand around my
cock.  He snarled, `Aaah ... big ... good.'

I guess those were the only English words he knew `cause he spoke to the
other guy in Arabic all the time, calling him Hassan.  So that was his name
... Hassan.  I had learned some Arabic over there and, even in this moment
of extreme peril, I remembered what the name means in Arabic ... "handsome,
beautiful."  At that moment Hassan finally stood up and as I saw his tall,
superbly muscular body I realized how well the name fit the man.

He stood before me and looked into my eyes.  He ran his hand over my face,
over the chain at my neck, then down over my chest.  He was stroking,
caressing my body and even though I felt revulsion at his touch, the
shudder that ran though me was caused by something else too, something I
couldn't define.

Then I heard his voice ... a low voice, menacing but, strangely lilting at
the same time.  His English was almost perfect, with a slight Arabic
accent.

"What is your name, soldier?"

"Corporal Matsen."

"Matsen ... Well, corporal, you are a very handsome man ... extremely
handsome.  I will enjoy torturing a soldier as beautiful as you, watching
that perfect body writhe in agony, hearing you scream.  That will give me
much pleasure.  I too am a beautiful young man as you can see.  We are both
magnificent specimens, and alike, I think, though you are fair and I am
dark.  I think you will enjoy having a man as beautiful as me working on
your body, no?"

"Go fuck yourself," I snarled His eyes blazed with anger and he hit me hard
across the face.  Then he smiled.

"I think, corporal, you will learn to enjoy my company and do what I order
you to.  My colleague here speaks no English, but I learned your language
at a school in America before I joined the army in my country.  So I will
be conducting the interrogation.  But first I want you to look hard at your
handsome reflection in the mirror.  That is the man I will make suffer."

The mirror was part of their technique to make their prisoner watch himself
suffer.  But I was determined to use it to my advantage.  There was a
survival technique I had heard of.  I would imagine the prisoner was
another guy ... forget it was me.  That way I hoped I could transfer some
of the pain to the soldier in the mirror.  So I examined him carefully,
trying to objectify him, distance him from me.  And he sure was beautiful.

Back at the base in our down time there was not much to do but work out in
the gym, which I did a lot so my body was looking great, really ripped.  We
got a lot of sun in the desert so my body was heavily tanned, with a sharp
tan line below the waist.  And my short military haircut had grown out so
my hair was longer now, disheveled, bleached by the sun.

So that was the man in the mirror, with his tousled blonde hair, chiseled
features, prominent cheek bones and square jaw.  He had a bodybuilder's
physique ... rounded pecs, hard six-pack abs, and his shoulders and arms
bulged as they were pulled back tight over the bars.  The heavy chain
looped round his muscled neck and his military dog tags hung down in the
cleft between his pecs.  I tried to forget it was me ... just some other
terrified soldier waiting for his torture to begin.

And so it began.  I looked up startled as the older guy began to squeeze my
cock.  Again he said, "Big ... good."  The young guy ... Hassan ... grabbed
my face and forced me to look at him.  Despite his dark coloring he had
astonishing pale brown eyes and they bored into mine.  Again that low
voice.

"You are so beautiful, Corporal Matsen, it is a great shame to spoil your
looks, bring pain to that perfect body.  But it does not have to be so.
All you have to tell me is the destination and mission of your group.  That
is all.  And then perhaps we can get to know each other in a more intimate
way."

I spoke slowly and deliberately.  "Go ... and ... fuck ... yourself.  You
will never make me talk."

Hassan sighed.  "Well, we shall see."  He crouched at my feet again and
picked up the serrated clamps at the end of the wires.  I felt the sharp
bite of steel as he clamped them on either side of my scrotum, touching my
balls.  Then he stood and looked into my eyes with a slight smile.  "Now we
begin."

He reached down to the box, turned a dial slowly and the buzzing grew
louder.  At first all I felt was a tingling in my balls.  But then suddenly
he increased the current and it was as if my balls were on fire.  I could
never describe the pain as the current tore at my cock and balls, radiated
up through my body and then made my head explode.

Instinctively I looked in the mirror and saw the chained soldier go rigid
as he stared wildly back at me.  His body shuddered and writhed, straining
desperately against the bars, neck pulling against the chain.  Veins stood
out in his bulging muscles as he shook in tortured agony on the bars.
Sweat began to pour from his face, streaming down over his gleaming chest
and hissing on the hot clamps at his balls.

I saw tears stream from his eyes, saw the mouth open, and heard the
piercing scream.  The voice was mine, it was me screaming ... I was the
half-naked soldier hanging, thrashing on the wall in helpless torment.  I
don't know how long I watched the beautiful body suffer and strain, the
head flying wildly from side to side.  But I was on the point of passing
out when suddenly the buzzing stopped.  My balls and cock still throbbed
agonizingly as I looked at the prisoner in the mirror and watched his
muscular body go limp on the bars, jerking with residual pain.

I wanted to help him, give him courage, so I talked to him in gasping
breaths.  "Hold on, buddy ... you can do this ... you can beat the bastards
... they won't win ... they'll never make you talk."

Hassan grabbed my face and turned it to his.  "No, corporal, you will talk
to me not to him."  He let go, took a step back and gazed at me, my
tear-stained eyes staring back at him.  I realized that he was stroking the
bulge in his uniform pants.  "Oh, man," he breathed.  "You are so much more
beautiful when you suffer.  Your body is superb.  I love watching that
handsome face twisting in pain.  You are perfect.  I want you for my own."

He approached me again, rubbing his bulge faster and harder.  I have never
hated as much as I did then and I spat full in his face.  He erupted in
anger and turned the dial again, and once again my body jerked wildly, with
the same eruption of pain tearing through me.  But this time I kept looking
at him and our eyes locked.  It was the ultimate trial of strength between
two beautiful men.

The pain made me scream at him, "You fucking bastard ... you pig
... coward.  I'm better than you, stronger than you ... You'll never break
me, asshole.  I am the best!"

"No!" Hassan screamed.  "I am the master ... I will break you.  I will
torture your beautiful body until you beg me for mercy.  I will take you, I
will own you."

Again the buzzing stopped and I felt the clamps ripped from my ball sac.
Immediately he brought them to my chest and I howled as he clamped them to
my tits.  Against all reason my only thought at that point was how handsome
he was.  The face was stunningly beautiful, and I saw a smile cross it.  It
was a smile of cruelty, but there was admiration too.

"You are right, soldier.  You are strong, you are magnificent.  But you
will talk.  You will tell me what I need to know."  He ran his hands over
my chest and squeezed the clamps.  "If you do not I will torture that
perfect chest ... I will watch it shudder in pain."

I was near exhaustion but managed to gasp.  "Fuck off, asshole."

His eyes glinted, his hand touched the dial, and I thought my chest would
burst as pain ripped through it, flaring outward from my ravaged, searing
nipples.  I knew I was finished.  The last thing I was aware of was my
captor, his dusky beauty, magnificent shirtless body, his hand stroking his
cock through his pants.  I gazed into his exquisite, slanting brown eyes
and saw there not hate but admiration ... and ravenous lust.

And before I passed out I managed to breathe one last word ... "Hassan ..."

****************

Bob looked over at Jamie and saw him hunched in the corner, tears running
down his face.  Bob raised his eyes questioningly but Jamie shook his head.
He would not leave, he would stay to hear it all.

Bob turned his head to Mark and wanted to touch him, but held back.  Mark
was staring into the distance, miles away, a continent away, as he went
through the cathartic, harrowing ritual of remembering, seeing again,
relating every last agonizing detail.  Bob waited, wondering where the
story would go next.  Mark took a deep breath and resumed.

*****************

"Oddly, it was the feel of liquid running over my face and chest that began
to bring me back to consciousness.  It was thick, sweet smelling, something
I had smelt before, though in my dazed condition I couldn't place it.
Slowly I became aware of other sensations, especially the pain in my neck
and arms.  I realized that my head was hanging down pulling the chain tight
against my throat, and my arms were still stretched back over the bar.  As
my head cleared I looked up.  My last sight had been Hassan, and now it was
my first.  And we were alone.

He was sprawled in a chair, eyes fixed on me.  He was no longer rubbing his
crotch through the pants.  He had pulled his cock out and was stroking it
gently.  The cock was huge, dark, and ramrod stiff.  Our eyes met and again
there was a flash of recognition ... two stunning men who could not help
admiring each other's physical beauty, despite the adversarial extremes of
their situation.

As I eased myself up into a less painful position I again heard the low
cadence of his voice.  "I have been sitting here watching you, corporal,
waiting for you to rejoin me.  I have been admiring the beauty of your body
as you hung before me.  And I have to tell you, the sight of you brought me
to a state of arousal I have rarely felt before."

Suddenly I knew what the liquid was running down my face.  It was the semen
of this man, Hassan.  It was as if he read my thoughts.  "Yes, soldier,
that is my juice running over your handsome face and muscular body.  As I
stood before you I could not hold back.  I have never seen a man like you.
So I pulled out my cock, as you see me now, and I pulled your face up by
your hair.  I did not even need to stroke myself.  I just pointed my shaft
at your face and it exploded with rivers of semen, the juice you now feel
running down your face."

I looked in the mirror and was horrified by what I saw ... the half-naked
soldier chained to the wall, muscles pumped hard from the strain and
exertion of his torture.  His body was gleaming with sweat ... and
something else.  His face was running with a thick white liquid, streaming
down onto his chest and dripping from his pecs onto the ridges of his
stomach.  It was the juice of the man Hassan.

My first feeling was revulsion.  "You fucking pervert," I groaned.  "You
fucking sick bastard."

"I think not, corporal Matsen.  You see ..."

He stood up and began to stretch.  He raised his arms high in the air,
flexed his shoulders, and tightened his stomach.  Stripped to the waist,
dark skinned, his huge cock hanging loose, a smile on his finely etched
features, the man was magnificent.  I ... I couldn't believe ... even as I
hung there, still throbbing with pain ... I couldn't ... I can't ..."

Mark's voice faltered and Bob put his arm round him.  "It's OK, buddy.  I
understand."

Breathing deeply Mark regained his composure and continued.  "God dammit I
felt my cock get hard as it hung out of my pants.  I hated myself for it,
but I got a fucking hard-on looking at the bastard, he was so fucking
gorgeous.  I watched my reflection in horror as my cock grew and stood out
rigid before me.  Hassan stood up with a broad smile on his handsome face,
came forward and grabbed my cock.

"You see, soldier.  I knew I could do that to you.  I know how beautiful I
am.  No one can resist me ... man or woman.  And neither can you.  True,
you are a superb, magnificent male, but even you cannot resist me.  I knew
I would win."  He looked down and stroked my throbbing dick.

I lost it then and screamed, "Fuck you, man!  I don't give a shit how
gorgeous you are.  I still hate your fucking guts.  The only thing I feel
for you is blinding hate."

"Hmm ... your cock says otherwise, Corporal Matsen.  By the way, what is
your first name?"

His eyes held mine and I heard myself say, "Mark ... Corporal Mark Matsen."

Hassan smiled.  "Then I shall call you Mark, because we shall know each
other very well.  You see, Mark, your torture is over.  I knew you would
not talk.  We are alike.  Men like you and I are too strong to be broken.
As you see, my older colleague is gone.  He gets bored quickly and,
besides, he wanted to go to his girl.  I, however, have no need of a girl.
You see, Mark Matsen, I have you."

******************

He must have seen the look of panic in my eyes as I began to guess what he
had in mind.  "Don't worry my friend, you will like the plans I have for
you.  First we must stay here all night as my superiors think I am
torturing you.  But it will not be torture ... it will be pleasure for both
of us.  I will conduct ... how do you say in English? ... a trial run.  I
will test you and if, as I strongly believe, you live up to my
expectations, I will take you out of this place."

The first flicker of hope dawned in my eyes.  Getting out of here was maybe
a first step to freedom, the end of this nightmare.  But his next words
dashed my hopes and brought a new depth of despair.

"Yes, Mark, I will tie you up, throw you in my truck and smuggle you out.
It will be a long drive as I live far out in the desert.  I live alone in a
house that is so remote nobody can get away.  They would never survive on
foot.  And you and I, my beautiful Mark, will live alone, pleasuring each
other day after day.  You will be ...  again my English deserts me ... ah
yes, you will be my sex slave."  I gasped at the sound of that hideous
phrase.

"My basement is very comfortable and you will live there, always naked.
Mostly you will be chained as you look so magnificent in chains.  I will
visit often and I will use your beautiful body for my sexual pleasure.
Sometimes I will hurt you, torture you, even, as we have done here, because
I love to see you in pain.  But mostly I will give you the pleasure of
feeling my muscular body against you, my huge cock inside you, and my
handsome face pressed against yours.  That is your fate, my beautiful Mark
... to be with me always."

My head swam as an image of my future flashed before me.  The nightmare he
described, enslaved by this man, used by him, feeling his naked body
against mine, his cock inside me, day and night, was too horrific to
contemplate.  I knew that all I could do was stay alert and take it one
step at a time.  Now was not the time for heroics, so I said nothing.
First I had to get through that night, and then take my chances if we ever
got out of this hell.

Hassan was still smiling and holding my cock.  I was horrified to realize
that it was still rock hard.  It must have been his closeness, the sight of
him, I thought.  But there at the back of my mind I had to admit that the
thought of this gorgeous, powerful man sexually abusing my naked body day
after day sent a shiver though me that went straight to my rigid cock.

"But," Hassan said, "I have not been fair to you, Mark.  I have poured my
juice all over you and here is your hard cock waiting for release.  As I
said, I know you cannot resist me and I will prove it to you.  This is your
first test, my friend ... a trial of your strength.  I challenge you to
resist."

He dropped to his knees before me, held my cock in front of his face and
smiled up at me.  God his face was beautiful.  I saw it come closer, saw
the sensuous lips open wide and I took a deep breath as his mouth touched
the head of my cock, then slowly, slowly slid over it, further and further
until my cock rested at the back of his throat.

My eyes opened wide and I looked at the mirror, saw the muscular soldier
helplessly chained by the neck to the wall, his body still running with
cum.  I saw the broad back of the man kneeling at his feet and felt
... felt one of the most incredible sensations of my life.

I stared into the eyes of at the beautiful blonde prisoner and pleaded with
him.  "Hold on, man, don't give up.  You've gotta resist.  Don't let his
beauty seduce you.  You cannot submit to him.  He's a magnificent stud,
sure, but don't let him humiliate you."  Hassan's warm, velvet mouth was
sliding back and forth on my cock ... the sensation was incredible.  I
looked again at the tortured face.  "Don't let him win, man," I breathed.
"Oh God, please, man.  You're so fucking gorgeous, better than him
... don't let him break you."

I glanced down at Hassan and gasped at the stunning, dark face rising and
falling on my cock.  And that did it.  I looked back up at the chained
soldier, saw the body shudder, saw the mouth open and scream one
word... "Hassan!"  I felt my cock explode in his mouth, felt the muscles of
his throat clamp my rod in a vise as he swallowed my cum pouring into him.

He had beaten me.  He had won.  Where brutal torture had failed, the
magnetism of this stunning male had forced me surrender my manhood to him.
I hung my head in total defeat and humiliation.

*****************

"Now you are mine."  I raised my head and stared into the exotic eyes of
the man who now owned me.  "I knew I was stronger than you, Mark.  You are
superb, magnificent, but I have won, and tonight, all night, I will show
you how I treat a man like you.  Now we begin.

He pressed his naked torso against mine, and I saw his muscles flex as he
reached up to the bars and pulled himself up until he was standing on a
horizontal bar level with my thighs.  His legs were astride and his cock
hung out of his pants level with my face.  I glimpsed in the mirror the
incredible sight of the broken soldier, in chains, helpless before the man
spread-eagled before him.  I gazed at Hassan's powerful back, his arms
stretched up gripping the bars, his lats flaring, tapering down to the slim
waist of his uniform pants.  And, unbelievably, I saw that the prisoner's
cock was still rigid.

Before my eyes was Hassan's thick, dark cock, hard as a rod.  I knew what
he intended, knew what I had to do.  Like a beaten animal I obediently
opened my mouth and stared in horror as the cock came closer and touched my
lips.  Then for the first time in my life I felt a man's cock enter my
mouth and slide quickly to the back of my throat.  I choked, gagged, as the
monster tool filled my mouth.  It pulled back, then slammed again, and
again, deeper and deeper.

I looked up and saw Hassan, stripped to the waist, legs astride me, his
gorgeous body pounding into me, his stunning face smiling down at me in
triumph.  I tried to move, but my head was pressed back against the bars,
neck held tight by the chain, so I had to endure the onslaught.  I felt his
black pubic hair slam against my face.  My face was buried in his stinking
crotch.  I smelt him, choked on the pungent taste of the sweat of his
balls.  The steel grill was shaking as Hassan used all his strength to
hammer my helpless face against the bars.

This level of intensity couldn't last long ... for either one of us.  I
needed it to end so I clamped my throat round his cock.  I felt his cock
grow bigger, thicker, felt it shudder, heard Hassan's guttural scream as he
erupted in my mouth.  I gagged, swallowing desperately to drink the
torrents of cum that blasted into me.  When it seemed I would choke the
cock suddenly pulled out, Hassan aimed it at my face, and more juice poured
from it, slamming into my face like a full-force hose, blinding me.

I heard his manic laughter as his cock came to rest.  "Now, my beautiful
stallion, the final humiliation.  There was a pause, and then more liquid
blasted into my face, but this time the smell, the taste was rancid.
Hassan was pissing into my face, into my open mouth.  I gulped hard,
gagging on the acrid taste of his urine as I felt it pouring deep inside
me.  As I swallowed, the stench filled my nostrils.  It didn't stop.  I
felt I was drowning in the man's hot piss as it gushed over my entire body.

I was sobbing now as I felt Hassan jump down from the bars and heard his
triumphant laughter.  "I am Hassan.  I am the best.  I have broken and
humiliated the beautiful American soldier.  Look at this, Mark, and
remember it.  This is what Hassan has done to you."

He grabbed my hair and yanked my head back, and as the semen drained from
my eyes the image in the mirror came into focus.  The soldier's heaving
muscles gleamed with sweat in the harsh lights of the cell, the body still
shuddered, shackled to the wall.  Hassan was holding the head back like a
trophy.  It was the face of a broken man, once proud, handsome, now sobbing
in defeat, streaming with cum and piss.  The mouth hung open, with the
victor's cum pouring from it, over the chin, down onto the chest, blending
with the piss soaking his fatigue pants.

I gazed at the incredible sight of the beautiful, shattered wreck of a man.
I saw Hassan, in all his muscular glory triumph over him.  "And now ..." he
shouted.  "Your final surrender.  Show me you belong to me, Mark.  Submit
to your master."

The image was too much ... the two gorgeous men ... one, dark skinned,
glorious in victory ... the other, fair haired, his broken slave.  I
watched in horror as my cock grew harder, saw my ravaged body shudder, felt
the heat rising from my groin.  I watched helpless as my cock pulsed and
blasted the cum of total humiliation in a high arc, across the room onto
the mirror that bore witness to the soldier's agonizing degradation and
defeat.

In my desolation I heard the low voice.  "I am the best!  I have destroyed
you, soldier.  You are mine.  And this is only the beginning."

**************

Mark slumped against Bob exhausted, his energy completely drained by the
effort of recounting his harrowing story.  His eyes were empty, his mind
still reeling from the vivid image of the chained, half-naked soldier
broken by the beautiful Hassan.

Bob wrapped his arms round him and let Mark bury his head in his shoulder.
He glanced over at Jamie who sat silently in the corner, tears running down
his cheeks.  That sight made Bob's decision for him, and he spoke in a
calm, resolute voice.

"That's enough for tonight, Mark.  You have to stop for a while, regain
your strength."

Mark pulled back and gazed at his friend.  "Believe it or not, there's not
too much more ... the rest of that terrible night ... how he used my body.
And then ... it becomes a story of revenge.  I need to finish telling you,
Bob.  I have to."

"And so you will," Bob said firmly, "but later, after a rest.  For now, you
sleep.  Early in the morning I'll come back and we'll hear the end of your
story.  And then we will forget ... forget it all ... and you will lay your
demons to rest."

Mark looked at him and managed a weak smile.  "God, I love you, man."  He
kissed him hard on the lips and clung to him, feeling Bob's reassuring
strength flow between them.  "But, you're right.  I need sleep."

"And so does someone else," Bob said looking over at the corner.

"Thank God for you, Jamie," Mark said, and smiled at his boy.  Then
exhaustion overwhelmed him.  His clothes were soaked with sweat, so he
stripped and fell back on the bed, his eyes closed.

Suddenly Bob felt an intense need to be with his boys.  The experience had
been shattering for him.  He stood up, walked over to Jamie and squeezed
his shoulder.  "Take care of him, Jamie.  Only you can give him what he
needs now."

"Thank you, sir.  I know that."

Quietly Bob left the room and went back to his own bed, where he gazed down
at the sleeping twins.  After the horrific tale he had heard he needed
their innocence, their purity.  He slipped carefully in between them and
sighed deeply.  They both stirred and draped their arms over him without
waking up.  It was only minutes before Bob fell into a dream-filled sleep.

***************

In Mark's bedroom Jamie gazed at Mark lying still with his eyes closed.  He
had listened in disbelief as the horrific story unfolded.  He thought of
how often he had looked at the drawing Darius had given him, how often he
had jerked off over it because the man chained to the wall looked so much
like the man he loved.

But what he had heard that night was the brutal reality behind the fantasy
art.  And he had wept as he heard how his master had been sexually abused,
broken, by this man ... Hassan.  But if he had been honest with himself,
(which he didn't dare to be) he would have to admit that his cock was hard
as he heard the words that brought the drawing to life.

Jamie stood up, walked over to the bed and fell to his knees.  He gazed
down at the magnificent naked body that had been so abused all that time
ago.  He looked at the handsome face, calm now in repose.  What could he
do?  What could he do bring comfort to the man, make him forget the horrors
of the past?

Mark was not asleep, but his eyes were shut tight to blot out the images
that still tormented him.  They would not subside ... would he always be
plagued by them?  His mind ran on the agonies he still had to relate.  And
then he felt a touch on his chest.  Not a hand, not fingers ... a tongue.
He felt the tongue caress his flesh, soothe him, bring him comfort.

Mark opened his eyes a little and saw his boy, his beautiful young face,
licking his body.  He took a sharp intake of breath, then closed his eyes
again and relaxed, letting his boy do his work.  He felt the warm tongue
travel all over his naked body, over the flesh that had been tortured in
that faraway place.

Now it was caressing his face, kissing his eyes.  From there it travelled
down, over the cleft between his pecs, over the ridges of his abs, and down
to his pubic hair.  He felt the warm moist touch on his cock, then move
lower and ... he jumped and almost cried out as the tongue touched his
balls, the balls that still bore the memory of searing pain.  He heard the
soft voice ... "Sshhh."  Then he gave in to his boy's touch, let him softly
lick the balls that had been so brutally tortured.

The pain, the fear, the demons, all dissipated as his boy brought a healing
balm to his body.  When it stopped Mark opened his eyes and saw his boy
standing over him, slowly taking off his clothes.  He watched the lithe
young body emerge and he smiled.  "Jamie ... my Jamie.  I love you, kid.  I
need you more than you know."

Jamie lay carefully on the bed beside his master and was instantly folded
in his powerful arms.  With his boy's soft, smooth flesh pressed against
him Mark finally felt safe.  And he fell asleep.

*************

But sleep would not come to Jamie.  The story had been traumatic for him
and his mind still whirled with the images of that room and the two
magnificent men in their fight for sexual supremacy.  Jamie had to have
release, and he eased himself carefully away from Mark's arms.  As he
slipped off the bed he pulled from under it the picture he knew so well and
he crept into the bathroom and shut the door.

He looked at the drawing that Mark's words had brought so painfully to
life.  In the past, whenever he had gazed at the beautiful, blonde,
shirtless soldier chained to the wall his cock had reared up ... and it was
no different now.  But now he knew the story behind it, had heard what
really happened in the victim's own words.  He stroked his cock as he
looked at the muscular prisoner, helpless in chains.

He looked at his balls, and imagined them enduring the agonies of the
electric current.  He gazed at the huge cock and imagined it helpless as it
erupted in the mouth of the beautiful Hassan.  He eyes moved down to the
corner of the picture and he saw the crouching muscle-stud that must be
Hassan.  He imagined him standing spread eagled on the grill forcing his
cock into the soldier's mouth.

The picture came alive and Jamie spoke softly to the prisoner.  "You can
take it, man.  Feel that chain round your neck, man.  Feel that huge cock
in your mouth.  Oh, man, Hassan looks so fucking beautiful pounding your
face.  He's shooting his load in your mouth, man.  He's won!"

Jamie heart was beating hard as he imagined the final vision of the
muscular soldier hanging sobbing in chains on the wall.  He saw the
sculpted muscles streaming with sweat, semen and piss, saw the mouth
hanging open with cum pouring from it.  The proud soldier had been
defeated, broken, humiliated by the magnificent Hassan.

It was painful to see, but intensely erotic.  "So fucking hot, man," Jamie
whispered.  "Yeah it's making me cum, making me shoot my load.  Here it
comes, sir, you're making me cum."  And his cock erupted with a stream of
hot juice that splashed onto the bathroom floor.

Jamie did not feel ashamed.  He had needed to cum, to purge his own demons
... to rid himself of this erotic drawing that looked so much like Mark and
had made him cum so often.  And now he knew the story behind the picture,
knew how much his master had endured, and he knew that he would devote his
life to bringing comfort to the man he worshipped.  He would never look at
the picture again.

He cleaned himself off, crept back to the bed and lay beside his master,
his head on his chest, feeling it rise and fall in sleep.  But as he lay
there his cock remained hard.  Erotic images still haunted his mind, and he
knew there was more to come tomorrow when Mark would resume his tale.

Jamie could hardly wait.  He was impatient to hear how the story would end.

*******************

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength ... Part 92"