A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 213 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER: Pablo abuses the boys in the gym. They revolt and turn the tables on him and Randy in a wild gym fantasy. The macho coach and assistant coach, stripped down to their jockstraps, are helplessly bound in a brutal hammerlock and forcibly gang-fucked by the young jocks lined up behind them impatiently waiting their turn. Later the cop Mark succumbs to job stress and goes apeshit, attacking his boy Jamie.

Chapter 213 – "The Jocks Rebel Against Their Coach"

Randy was fulfilling a promise he had made to his lover Bob some time ago. He was giving a lesson to Bob's boys, the twins Kyle and Kevin, on the safety aspects of bondage sex that up to now had confused them. They were down in the basement, a big room that, apart from being a sometime guest-room, doubled as a gym and sex room, with equipment that was often used for both activities, such as the chin bar for pull-ups and tie-ups.

In addition to the twins Randy had also brought in his kid brother Ben and the young houseboy Eddie. "Ben and Eddie will be joining us, guys, as spectators," Randy explained. "I don't want any of my boys ever getting into trouble over botched sex games. So you two, no talking, especially you, kid," staring at Eddie. Eddie's eyes sparkled and he made a sign with his fingers of zipping his lips, causing Randy to stifle a smile.

Finding that a verbal explanation was ineffective Randy decided on what he called on-the-job training. Kevin, one of the twins, had volunteered and found himself on his back tied down to a gym bench with the swarthy, muscular boss fucking his ass in a stage-by-stage demonstration that ended in Kevin's explosive orgasm.

"So there's your lesson, guys," Randy said. "We found the kid's limit, lulled him into a state of euphoria before pushing him up to that limit and then, when he was bursting to cum, we took him just over the limit and you saw what happened. That's how you know how much a guy can take. That's how you fuck a guy."

Thrilling as it was to watch, the lesson didn't stop there. To most men Randy was something of a fantasy in himself, a pornographic image come to life. His hypnotic sexual magnetism always roused the fantasies inherent in men, and especially in the overactive imaginations of these boys. On this occasion Randy had been the teacher and the four boys his students, and that was the trigger for their fantasies, which in Kevin's case was based on a boyhood reality, which he described as he hallucinated.

"My teacher's so hot I've wanted him all year. When he was in front of the class I always wondered what his body was like under his white shirt and I beat off under the desk imagining it. Now he's naked and I can see it's ... it's gorgeous ... the chest, the biceps, the abs ... He's so hot and he's tied me to a bench in the gym and now he's fucking my ass with his huge cock.

"My teacher has made the other jocks gather round watching me get my ass fucked by our muscle-god master. He's put me on show, using me as an example to coach the other boys. I can see his awesome body rising and falling over me as his cock fucks my ass. God, it feels good. I've jerked off in class imagining this but I never thought it would feel this good."

Pleased with the effect he was having on the boys Randy decided to ramp up the fantasy. Here they were in the gym, after all, four young jocks who idolized their coach. "OK, guys, next lesson," he said. He reached for his shorts, pulled out his phone, tapped it and held it to his ear. "Hey, kid, it's time. Get your ass down here."

Randy had already primed his boy Pablo on exactly what he wanted and the boy didn't disappoint. He raced down the stairs wearing gym shorts, sneakers and a loose tank over his muscular chest. "Hey coach, what's up?" He pulled up short gazing at Randy, whose body was smothered in jizz, with cum still dripping from his cock. The three boys stood with him, also with dripping cocks. And beneath them one of the twins lay helplessly tied to a bench, with cum streaming over his face and body.

Pablo grinned, "Shit dam, guys, you sure did a number on this dude. Guess he got his ass good and fucked by the coach."

"Yeah," Randy growled, "I was teaching these guys a lesson. Now I gotta see how much they learned, give them a practical exam. But see, we've all shot our loads and are pretty much pumped dry right now, so it's up to you. You haven't jerked off lately have you?"

"No sir. I've been saving it for these guys."

"Right, well now's your chance. You can stand in as my assistant `til my dick gets hard again – you know what to do. OK, guys – who's next?"

Letting Pablo take charge and make the decision Randy rummaged in the pile of old gym gear on the floor and pulled out a jock strap, an old pair of gym shorts, a frayed, sweaty tank and old sneakers. He put them all on, grabbed a beer and sprawled in an armchair, looking every bit the iconic image of a handsome, dominant coach taking a breather and handing the floor over to his young assistant. The muscular young jock was not only his assistant, he was an object of lust for the coach who fucked his perfect ass every day. The boy was a great fuck and Randy admired his toughness and forcefulness with the other guys.

As to who would go next, it was pretty obvious to everyone that it would be Kyle. The twins did everything together and what happened to one of them always happened to the other. Knowing he was on display to his boss Pablo flexed his muscles and said to Kyle, "OK, kid, you're up next. Like the man said, I'm the assistant coach and I'm gonna do to you just what the coach did to your brother. So get naked."

Kyle obeyed, just as his brother had and lay back naked on the bench. But unlike Kevin, Kyle's cock was only semi-erect as he dropped his arms down beside him and Pablo tied his wrists to the legs of the bench.

The problem was that the coach before had been Randy, the expert in sex whom they all respected and trusted. But Pablo, now playing the part of the young assistant, could get hot-headed and had hurt them all on previous occasions. Even his voice was harsher than the patient, reassuring tones of Randy and he seemed intent not on teaching them but on showing off to them that he was the boss.

It was always that `boss's boy' thing that got Pablo in trouble. It went to his head and in trying to act like the boss Pablo always screwed up. Randy was a natural leader who had nothing to prove and could focus on the boy he was teaching – or fucking. Pablo's focus was on himself, trying to prove that he was as skilled and macho as his master.

The young coach's first problem was to get the boy's dick hard, and there was one obvious way to do it. "You, boy," he barked at Eddie. "On your knees, suck that boy's limp excuse for a dick and make it hard – now!"

Eddie was an easy-going young kid, willing to do whatever anyone wanted, and he loved sucking dick – his specialty. But Pablo's harsh tone offended him – he was not the real boss after all, just one of their equals. What's more, Pablo had fairly recently lost his temper, lording it over them all as the arrogant boss's boy, and had got into a fight and injured Eddie's arm. Eddie was quick to forgive and forget, but now that bossy tone brought it all back.

However, he did as he was told, dropped to his knees and, with a quick, reassuring smile to the bound Kyle, held his cock and lowered his mouth over it. Kyle's anxiety momentarily lessened as he felt the warm comfort of his young friend's mouth and relaxed, waiting for him to bring him to a quick erection. But again the voice of the assistant coach ruptured the soothing moment.

"You, boy," Pablo growled at Ben. "Squeeze his tits. That'll get his dick hard. Come on – at the double."

Ben harbored the same resentment to Pablo as Eddie did, having been in the same fight and ending up with his neck in a brace. He glanced over at Randy, his big brother, but Randy was sipping on his beer, seemingly content to watch his boy perform and let things take their course. Standing behind Kyle's head Ben leaned forward and twisted his nipples lightly in his finger tips.

Pablo barked, "I said squeeze, boy, not this feeble limp-wristed shit you're doing. Make his tits hurt!" Even looking at him upside down Ben still managed a quick grin at Kyle and made a fake show of exerting pressure, while Kyle made an equal show of feeling pain. Meanwhile, Eddie's expertise was having the usual effect of making the boy's cock hard as a rock and he was moaning with pleasure.

This was not lost on Pablo who said, "That's enough. Back off, guys, he's ready ... leave him to me. OK, kid, now the coach's boy is gonna show you how a real man fucks and you're gonna take it. Hell," he laughed tauntingly, "you're tied down – you got no choice. Look at this, kid..." Pablo dropped his gym shorts cupped his hands round the jock-strap he wore underneath, showing off the bulge of his big cock under the thin cotton fabric. He glanced at Randy who grinned and raised his beer bottle in a salute to his boy. The boss was enjoying the testosterone-heavy atmosphere of the room.

Pablo looked down at Eddie who was still on his knees. "Your turn again, boy. You know what to do." Eddie walked forward on his knees until his face was inches from the bulging jock. He opened his mouth wide and clamped it over the bulging jockstrap, sucking in hard, smelling and tasting the sweat and dried piss on the soiled fabric.

Normally Eddie would have loved this, sucking the crotch of a hot jock like Pablo, walking on his knees from one blow-job to the next as he used to do so often in the back room of the leather bar where he had been the lowly bar-back. He hadn't cared for a lot of the guys there, but that's where he had honed his skill. Now that he lived in this house, he loved servicing the macho men and boys there, with the permission of his master Hassan, whose cock he made love to every day.

But what was happening now was different. Actually, he didn't know quite what was happening but his instincts as a former street boy told him it wasn't good. This was reinforced when Pablo pulled his cock out of his jock and stuffed it into the boy's mouth, cupping his hands round Eddie's head and forcibly pulling his face forward onto his thick shaft and into his wet pubic hair.

This was not about two guys giving each other pleasure. This was Pablo exerting his authority as the assistant coach putting the young jocks through his paces. "That's it, punk," he growled, "suck the coach's dick. Make it good and hard so I can push it into your buddy's ass." Eddie had switched to automatic, running on instinct, taking no pleasure in being forced to suck Pablo's big rod, so he was relieved when it pulled out and the voice said, "That's enough, boy. Now get out of the way while I show this kid how a real man fucks."

Eddie staggered to his feet and Ben grabbed his arm to steady him. They stood close together watching the unfolding scene and the look of alarm in Kevin's face as Pablo prepared to fuck his brother. Kevin grabbed the tub of lube and held it out to Pablo, who swatted it away contemptuously. "Nah, that's for sissies. A real man knows how to take a dry fuck, and I'm the guy to teach him."

"No, he can't take it dry..." Kevin began but was silenced by, "I'll be the judge of that! If this young jock wants to be on my team he has to put out and learn to take it up the ass from me." Pablo pushed Kyle's legs high over his head, grabbed his own stiff rod and pushed its dry head against Kyle's hole, which was puckered tight in an instinctive act of resistance.

But Pablo angrily persisted, yelling "Fuck you, boy," and forced the hole open. He was mad now, the same anger that often consumed Randy, being defied by this young bound jock. "Here it comes, stud..." The scream echoed round the room as Pablo rammed his dry cock into the resistant ass. "Aaagh! No, I can't. Please, it hurts bad ... take it out ... please." But Pablo drove in again, to the sounds of Kyle's howls of pain.

Randy had a beer buzz going as he had admired his boy playing the assistant coach, admired his authority, the same dominance that Randy himself exerted. But suddenly Kyle's agonized screams brought him to his senses. Shit, he thought, that fucking anger that got them both into so much trouble in the past was turning his boy into a savage. He pulled himself to his feet prepared to tame his boy... but he was beaten to the punch – literally.

With a howl of anger, in a fierce act of fraternal protection, Kevin launched himself onto Pablo's back, pounded him with his fists, and clamped his arm round his throat in an attempt to drag him off. "Stop! You're hurting my brother ... get off him ... I'll kill you..." Randy approached grim-faced ... he had to put a stop to this ... things had got way out of control. He reached forward, clamped his hands on Kevin's shoulders and started to pull him off.

Now it was Eddie's turn for rage, mistakenly assuming that Randy was pulling Kevin off so Pablo could continue fucking his twin. In a classic case of the boys fiercely protecting each other, no matter the danger, Eddie threw himself onto Randy's broad back and wrapped both arms round his neck, squeezing as hard as he could. "No, sir, you can't let him hurt Kyle. He's my friend. Please, sir ... you can't."

Randy reared back upright but Eddie held on tenaciously. Randy could have thrown Eddie off him as easily as shrugging off a coat, but as he swung him round he caught sight in a mirror of the gutsy determination in the boy's eyes as he held on desperately. Randy felt a stab of admiration for the plucky young kid hanging on to him, and he said, "OK, kid, I give up. I'll back off ... let me go." Edie slid off him but stood facing him, his fists clenched, forcing him to slump back in his chair.

By now Kevin, with help from Ben, had pulled Pablo off Kyle, his cock sliding painfully out of him. Enraged Pablo lunged for Kevin, but he forgot that his gym shorts were still round his ankles and he tripped, flying headlong onto the floor and stunning himself. Ben, with the lightning reflexes Randy had trained in him, grabbed a pair of leather restraints from the paraphernalia on the floor and knelt over the stunned Pablo. While Kevin yanked Pablo's arms behind his back, Ben skillfully buckled the restraints round his wrists.

As Kevin released Kyle from the bench and hugged him, Ben couldn't resist a triumphant look in Randy's direction and Randy had to admit to himself that his kid brother had learned his lessons well. But at the same time he was stunned that Ben had immobilized his boy Pablo, backed up by Kevin and Eddie. He made a move to get up but Eddie was still standing guard.

"Sir," he said boldly, "Bob wouldn't like it that one of the twins got hurt, but he always says that when the boys get into an argument they should be left alone to sort things out for themselves."

Eddie had touched the just right button. At the sound of Bob's name Randy suddenly realized how furious he would be with him for letting things get so badly out of control, even letting one of his boys get hurt. Bob's voice of a few days ago came back to haunt him, "You won't hurt the twins, will you?" But Randy had done just that and shame overcame him. His infatuation with his own boy had allowed Pablo to hurt Bob's boy. Randy had to make things right but he knew that Eddie had spoken the truth... he had to stay out of the boys' way and let them take charge.

So Randy sank back in the chair. He smiled grimly to himself, realizing that his carefully planned fantasy had taken an unexpected turn. The macho coach and his domineering assistant had been overpowered, and the four young gym jocks were in control.

The boys were empowered by adrenaline and the need for revenge. None of their masters would have taken this kind of treatment without retaliation and neither would they. Of course they all knew that they were taking an extreme step in defying the big boss Randy and his boy, but it registered deep down in their subconscious that Randy was remaining compliantly in his chair, under the guard of the young Eddie.

They knew, of course, that Randy could have busted out of here with his boy in seconds – but he wasn't making a move, and that realization overcame their fear of the enormity of the actions they were taking. Besides, the fantasy Randy had created in this basement gym still resonated and they all felt the thrill of turning it on its head. Testosterone ruled.

The twins had pulled a still-groggy Pablo to his feet and pulled him over to a chin-bar hanging from the ceiling. Ben, feeling tough like his big brother, threw a rope over the chin-bar, pulled it down and tied one end to the wrist restraints behind Pablo's back. He pulled the other end down and secured it so Pablo's wrists were raised up behind his back, his elbows bent until his arm were pulled up tight behind him in a double hammer lock.

The pain in his arms brought him to his senses, his anger kicked in and he started to yell. "You cocksuckers ... you can't do this. Don't you know who I am? I'm the boss's boy. Cut me loose or the boss'll rip you to pieces." He was dead wrong there. The boss, the fantasy coach, didn't move a muscle to help, ashamed by his boy's failure to accept that he had behaved like a bully.

The twins now came over to address Randy. "Sir," they said, "you made a strict rule of the house that when a boy misbehaves, especially if he injures another boy, his master has to share in his punishment. We think that Bob would approve of what we are doing." Randy knew they were right and, most important, here was a way he could redeem himself in Bob's eyes. So he stood up and silently clasped his hands behind his back.

"No!" Pablo yelled. "Don't let the mother-fuckers get away with it, sir. They're just a bunch of dumb jocks. We can beat them hands down."

Randy growled, "Shut the fuck up, boy, and take your punishment like a man.

The words shocked and silenced Pablo who stood, helplessly bound, watching in horror as Randy allowed the boys to do to him what they had already done to his arrogant boy.

And so, a few minutes later the four boys sat on benches surveying the results of their daring actions. They could have lost their nerve had it not been for their escape into fantasy again, turning the dangerous reality into a thrilling parallel world – the world of athletes rebelling against their coach. The muscular young boys were all shirtless in gym shorts and sneakers, all sipping beers like jocks kicking back in the locker room.

In front of them were the macho coach and husky young assistant coach, side by side, their arms pulled up behind them in tight double hammerlocks, making their shoulders, pecs and biceps bulge with the strain of the rope tied to the chin bar, their veins etched sharply in their muscles. They were both wearing loose tank tops, old jockstraps, and sneakers, their gym shorts having been yanked off from around their feet. Worse still, the wall opposite them was mirrored, so each had a full, clear view of master and boy sharing their humiliation.

Eddie was the first to give voice to the homoerotic image of the bound coach and his deputy. While the twin's allegiance was to Randy's lover Bob, and Ben idolized his older brother, Eddie had no such direct connection. His allegiance was to his Marine, Hassan, and so, free of the restraints of loyalty, he slipped into the fantasy more easily.

"Wow," he said, eyes gleaming, "that is totally awesome, guys. Look at that stud coach and his side-kick, tied up at the mercy of us four jocks in the gym. One of them behaved like a complete ass so we gotta get even, guys."

While the other three boys looked on, their cocks growing stiff in their sorts, Eddie got up and went to get a closer look. He stood behind them, running his hands down the backs of their sweaty tanks, over the waistband of their jocks and clamping his hands round the firm mounds of their asses, outlined by the straps of the jock. "Man that feels good," he breathed, letting his hands wander round Pablo's torso to his chest and squeezing his nipples through the tank. He looked over Pablo's shoulder at the mirror and grinned as he saw Pablo's handsome, Mestizo face grimace in pain.

"Come on, guys, help me out here," Eddie said. Ben had inherited his big brother's fearlessness and was always turned on by his buddy's youthful sense of adventure. So he stood up beside Eddie and reached round Randy to squeeze his nipples. Ben saw Randy's eyes flinch in his otherwise stoic face and went so far as to press his swelling crotch against his brother's ass.

Eddie moved round to face Pablo and stared boldly into his eyes. "We didn't want this, dude. All we wanted was to learn from the coach but you fucked it all up and behaved like an arrogant prick. You ordered us around, called us a bunch of dumb jocks and shoved your dry dick in our buddy's ass, so you gotta pay, dude ... you owe all of us."

He moved over to the coach but couldn't quite summon the courage to look into his eyes. In any case, Randy was staring stoically ahead, thinking of Bob and enduring the humiliation like a captured soldier. So Eddie concentrated on the muscular torso, made even more stunning by being stretched by the ropes behind him. "That is so beautiful, sir," he whispered, losing himself in the pornographic image of the bound coach. He grabbed the neck of his thin tank and pulled slowly, ripping it down the middle until it was hanging in shreds from his shoulders.

Eddie ran his hands in disbelief over the slabs of his naked chest, bulging out as his arms were stretched behind his back. "You are so beautiful, sir," he said again. "I want to suck the coach's cock." He fell to his knees and clamped his mouth over the rough cotton bulge of his crotch, his head spinning with the smell of the coach's sweat, piss and dried cum. Glancing sideways he saw Ben on his knees giving the same treatment to Pablo. When it came to sucking cock Ben deferred to Eddie's expertise (everybody did) and took his cues from him.

The bound men groaned as Eddie and Ben worked on their balls through the stinking jock. Finally Eddie pulled out Randy's huge cock from the side of the jock, jammed it into his mouth and in seconds it was hard. Ben did the same to Pablo, with the same effect. As the boys swallowed the coaches' cocks the twins on the bench glanced at each other and, communicating in their own silent way, knew that their time had come.

They got up and stood behind the men – Kevin behind Pablo and Kyle behind Randy. Kevin was usually soft spoken but not this time. His voice was harsh as he said to Pablo, "Asshole – you hurt my brother by dry fucking him and trash-talked my buddies, and I have to even the score. Randy always says the punishment has to fit the crime so it will. My cock is right behind that ass you're so proud of. It's hard – and bone dry..."

"Aaagh!" Pablo's muscular body jolted and his head flew back as he felt the sharp pain of Kevin's dry rod piercing his ass. It drove hard to the bottom of his chute, pulled back and plunged in again. In front of him Ben redoubled his efforts munching on his cock so the arrogant young jock was gripped in a convulsion of pain in his ass and sexual heat in his cock. Kevin pressed his hands against the waistband of Pablo's jockstrap at his hips and pulled his ass savagely back onto his long cock, while Ben on his knees reached up and yanked Pablo's tank clean off.

Kyle, next to his brother, was less savage in his treatment of Randy and his motivation was different. Randy was not really the villain of this piece, except through neglect, but Kyle was quickly being consumed by the fantasy of the coach being tied up and ass-fucked by one of Bob's boys. So he, like Kevin, grabbed Randy's waist and pulled his ass back onto his cock, feeling it plunge into the furnace of the boss's ass.

Randy's reaction was less intense than Pablo's – not much more than a grunt. For him it was not so much the physical pain in his ass, which he could easily absorb. It was the humiliation of seeing himself and his boy, both stripped down to their jockstraps, tied up and being worked over by four young jocks, two of them ploughing their asses and two feeding on their cocks. It was degrading and exhilarating at the same time and he was aware of the torment Pablo was enduring, not wanting to submit to these `dumb jocks' but being pushed to the edge of orgasm as the pain subsided into erotic desire.

Randy could never endure Eddie's sensational blow-jobs for long and now, with Kyle pounding his ass, he knew he couldn't hold out – and neither could his boy. He looked into the mirror at Pablo's agonized face and said, "You gotta let it go, boy. This is your punishment, to submit to the guys you bossed around. I'll cum with you. The kid's driving my cock wild, he's busting my balls, I ... Aaaah!" His massive body jerked forward, straining his muscles even higher behind him as his cock exploded in Eddie's mouth.

The sight of the rugged coach writhing in bondage was too much for them all and Pablo shot his load into Ben while the twins came in the asses of the coach and his boy. Eddie pulled away from Randy's cock and the next stream of jism flew over his head and splashed onto the mirror behind him. Ben pulled back too and watched with satisfaction as the cocky young stud suffered the humiliation of defeat in spraying his juice all over the mirror to join his master's.

Kevin and Kyle pulled their cocks out of the sore asses and the boys stood back and gazed in awe at the sight before them. The dark, swarthy coach, a powerful bodybuilder, stood before the mirror beside his defeated boy, both of them naked except for their jockstraps and sneakers and the shreds of Randy's shirt hanging from his shoulders.

Both were bound in a painful hammerlock, their arms stretched up behind them, tied to the chin-bar ... both of their thick cocks hung down before them dripping cum ... and both had cum oozing from their asses and running down their legs. It was a picture of degrading defeat, and would have been punishment enough ... except...

The image was too homoerotic, the fantasy too powerful to end so soon. The triumphant young jocks had to go further ... had to make their revenge complete.

While they took a breather Eddie went into a corner of the room and pulled out his cell phone. Second only to Darius he was the boy most aware of the power of homoerotic visual images, and this was one of the best. It was why Darius often deputized him to film sexual goings-on in the house, and why Eddie now eagerly alerted him. In a lengthy conversation he described what had happened and what was about to happen.

Unable to contain himself Darius grabbed his camera and ran downstairs and across the lawn, almost colliding with Bob.

"Hey, Darius," Bob laughed, "where's the fire?"

Darius breathlessly gave him a brief, disjointed version of events ... Pablo got bossy, rough-fucked Kyle ... twins OK though ... boys taking revenge ... Randy blames himself ... the coach and his boy getting worked over by the gym jocks. "Gotta go, sir ... one for prosperity..."

As he ran to the basement door he was accosted by Jamie, Nate and Mario who had seen Darius's dash and heard the urgency in his voice. Darius grabbed them and all four disappeared down the basement stairs.

Bob frowned with uncertainty. When he had earlier looked into the room it had been a harmonious scene of Randy teaching the twins about ropes and restraints, but things had apparently taken a different turn since then. He was tempted to look into it, but there was a long tradition of Bob not intervening when Randy was instructing or disciplining the boys – or even, he supposed, being disciplined by them. Randy surely knew what he was doing ... didn't he? Bob paced the garden, uncertain what to do.

Down in the basement Randy and Pablo, still painfully bound, were silent and motionless, partly from exhaustion but mostly from the intensity of the emotions that gripped them – humiliation, concern for each other, but mostly shame.

Pablo knew that the man he worshipped was being punished and degraded because of him. He knew that Randy could have busted free at any time, but he was subjecting himself to punishment because of what Pablo had done, especially to Bob's boy Kyle.

And that was the very thing that most wracked Randy with guilt. He had promised he would never hurt anything of Bob's, especially his beloved twins, but he had sat passively by as his boy Pablo had savagely dry-fucked Kyle. Once again he had allowed his own and his boy's machismo to consume him. Once again he had fucked up.

How could he condone that to Bob, how could he make amends to the man he idolized and always did his best not to hurt? In Randy's world there was only one way to apologize. He had to be physically punished – the worse the punishment the stronger the remorse. And if he was to endure humiliation at the hands of his own boys, so much the better. No doubt about it, he was doing all this (as he did most things in his life) for Bob.

The silence was broken when Darius burst into the basement. He gasped at the sight that met his eyes, and of course he immediately tuned into the fantasy aspect of the scene. The coach and assistant coaches were bound naked except for their jockstraps and sneakers, and they had obviously been ass-fucked judging from the cum dribbling down their legs.

Darius circled them, expertly filming every homoerotic angle of the amazing scene. The boys were all jazzed up, and with the recklessness of youth were mindless of the consequences of what they were doing. Erotic fantasy had gripped them, and now spread to the new arrivals. Darius lined them up behind the captives and there began the extraordinary spectacle of the rugged coach and his boy being gang-fucked by a group of young jocks in the gym, their muscular bodies flexed hard as their arms were stretched behind them. As their asses got pounded they helplessly shot load after load of jism onto the mirror.

Ben and Eddie went first, easily sliding their cocks into the cum-slicked asses already opened up by the twins as they watched in the mirror the grimacing faces of the coach and his boy preparing for the mass onslaught on their asses. It was not long before Ben and Eddie howled triumphantly as their cocks exploded in the already sore asses of the two captives, who shot another load of jism over the mirror.

From then on things took on a life of their own, aided considerably by Darius. He was driven wild by the fantasy of a macho athletic coach and his boy tied up in a gym, stripped down to jockstraps and sneakers, their bodies straining in a brutal hammerlock while sweat poured down their dark, handsome faces as they were gang-raped by the young athletes lined up behind them impatiently waiting their turn.

Darius thrust the camera into Eddie's eager hands and took his place at the head of the line behind Randy, with Nate next to him. Nate, feeling the peer pressure of his buddies urging him on, pushed his hard cock into Pablo's ass that was now open wide and soaked in cum. The captive boy groaned as he felt a third dick invading his ravaged ass.

Randy could have taken a third dick normally, but this was no normal cock. Darius pushed his huge black ten-inch club into the boss's ass and Randy howled out loud for the first time, feeling pain flame through his ass and burn through his body. He and his boy were now straining desperately against the ropes. As they leaned forward to ease the pain in their asses their arms stretched ever more painfully behind them, their gleaming shoulders rock hard, veins standing out in their tortured biceps.

Mercifully Darius and Nate were so incredibly amped up by the fantasy of fucking the boss and his boy, feeling the intense heat in the furnace of their asses, that they could not prolong the ecstasy however much they wanted to. With jubilant shouts they thrust in deep and felt their cocks explode as the agonized screams of the bound master and his boy bounced off the walls of the steamy room.

Darius pulled out his long shaft to a prolonged groan from Randy, and Pablo moaned as yet one more cock slid out of his ass. Darius and Nate yielded their places to Jamie and Mario, but they were far more reticent. The two boys were subject to the same peer pressure from their buddies, and without doubt they felt the sexual excitement of the dramatic scene. But these were the two most mature boys of the group, a result of Mario's Italian background, and Jamie's long relationship with his master, the gorgeous cop Mark.

They knew that things had gone on too long but they now faced the pressure of having to join in the gang-fuck of the two exhausted men. Fortunately they were saved from their dilemma by a commanding voice from the stairs. "OK, guys, I think that'll be enough. Show's over."

Bob's sudden appearance brought a wave of relief to everyone, not least the gang-fucked Randy and Pablo. The other boys all sensed that things had got out of hand but weren't sure how to bring it all to an end. Thank god Bob was here.

Bob glanced at Jamie and Mario and signaled with his eyes the ropes over the chin-bar. They quickly released Randy who in turn untied Pablo and took him into a tight embrace. The twins instinctively approached Bob, prepared with remorseful excuses, but Bob smiled and said quietly, "It's OK, guys, I got most of the story from Darius. Now my stomach tells me it's almost lunchtime and my guess is you would like some time alone with each other in the kitchen. What d'you say?"

"Yes sir, please sir," they said in unison. As always Bob had hit just the right note and the twins wanted nothing more than to be with each other, doing what they loved best – cooking. They both hugged him and ran quickly up the stairs.

"Ben," Bob said, "the real reason I came down here is that Jason called, wanting to know where you were. He's all set to take you to a Dodgers game this afternoon." Ben inhaled sharply and said. "Oh ... oh ... I gotta go. ... thank you, sir, I ... I..."

Bob grinned. "Go! Don't keep that gorgeous fireman waiting." Ben raced up the stairs.

"And you, Eddie," Bob said. "Isn't it about time you were up at Hassan's? I thought one of your Saturday rituals was for that hot Marine to take you someplace for brunch." It was Eddie's turn to gasp. "Oh, that's right, sir. Mustn't be late. I ... " He looked around the room thinking he ought to say something to somebody but could only come up with "Thank you, sir," before running for the door. Bob turned to Darius.

"Darius, I know you're a good photographic reporter but perhaps you should bear in mind that old journalistic rule. You never stage a picture to get a shot you want, like for example lining guys up to stage a group-fuck fantasy. Maybe you should go and talk that over with Zack."

Darius left contritely and Bob walked over to Jamie, Mario and Nate. "Guys, I want you to go to Mark. He's next door unwinding over a drink with Adam, and I know he just got off a very rough shift. He may hide it from you, Jamie, `cause he doesn't want to worry you, but I'm seeing a lot of stress in him lately. You know how cops can be – they tough it out at work and absorb all the stress but eventually it builds up and that's what I think Mark's going through. He needs all your love and support."

"Thank you, sir," Jamie said, "we'll go right away." He grinned, "I think I know one of the things Mark needs." He left, followed closely by Nate and Mario. Bob sighed deeply and turned to the only two remaining occupants of the room. After a long wordless embrace Randy and Pablo had finally separated and pulled on their gym shorts. Bob said casually, "Don't know about you two but I could use a drink. How about we go up to our room and crack open a bottle of Pino Grigio?

Not for the first time Randy marveled how Bob could cut through tension like a knife. They followed him meekly upstairs and as they emerged into the garden Eddie rushed out in his haste to get to Hassan's. He pulled up short and hesitated before blurting out to Bob and Randy, "Sirs, am I gonna get fired from my job for what I did down there ... to Randy and all?"

The men stifled smiles and Bob said gently, "Nobody's gonna fire you, Eddie. We all love you too much. But if you don't get up to Hassan's pronto that tough Marine is gonna whip your ass."

"I hope so, sir" Eddie grinned impishly, and sped off with a "Thank you, sir," over his shoulder.

Bob grinned and rolled his eyes at Randy, then the three of them continued on up to the master suite, where Bob opened the wine and poured three glasses. There was a tense silence, especially from Pablo who was consumed by guilt, knowing he had been the cause of all the problems. Bob waited for Randy to speak first, and the words soon came tumbling out.

"Hell, man, I did it all for you ... I felt so guilty. I promised I would never hurt you or anything or anyone that belonged to you, especially your boys, and yet I did. I was so fucking full of myself and my boy that I fucked up royally. I knew how pissed off you'd be so I had to be punished. It's the only way I knew, and ..."

"Hey, hey, cool it buddy. First of all, you didn't hurt my boys. As I heard it Pablo threw his weight around and tried to dry-fuck Kyle. But listen, emotions are still running high here, so after lunch, what say you give us both a ride in that brand new truck of yours, buddy. I know the twins want some time alone this afternoon.

"We'll go down to the beach at Malibu. I'm sure you two have things to sort out so you can go for a walk along the beach while I lie back in the sun, close my eyes and dream. It won't be about coaches or gym jocks, either – more likely a big stud gypsy construction worker I know who fucks up from time to time and makes me love him even more."

And so, a couple of hours later they were in the big truck on Pacific Coast Highway, Randy behind the wheel and Pablo between him and Bob, his favorite place in the world. Randy looked over at Bob and grinned, his eyes a bit misty. They drove mostly in silence and Randy wondered what thoughts were going through his lover's mind. He couldn't have guessed, however, that Bob was not thinking about him or Pablo. He was troubled about Mark and the look in his eye that he had seen lately. His instinct told him that something was really wrong.

There is an old saying among cops that whatever the stress or anger you build up on the job you should never take it home with you. There have been many instances where cops have ignored that rule, have gone home and taken out their anger on the people closest to them, their family, sometimes with tragic results.

Mark had had a tough run of it lately, conflicts on the road that were worse than usual, one involving a buddy who was dangerously wounded in a hostage situation where Mark irrationally blamed himself for not providing sufficient backup. Burnout is a phenomenon that creeps up on a man unawares, a bit like high blood pressure, the so-called `silent killer'. A cop, especially, doesn't recognize he is approaching burnout until it boils over, and even then his macho instinct is to deny it.

A few days after Bob had voiced concern over him, Mark was on his way to respond to a reported domestic dispute. Usually these incidents were resolved simply by calming the people down and letting them talk their problems out. But occasionally they were more threatening. Mark pulled up to a shabby tract home in a scruffy neighborhood. A neighbor from next door came running out, saying she had called 911 when she heard screams from the house.

As if to authenticate her claims, a woman's muffled screams could be heard as Mark approached the house. Quickly he spoke into his shoulder mic and called for backup, then pounded on the door ... "Police!" The door remained closed, the screams continued and Mark felt the familiar tension gripping him. Putting his shoulder to the door he burst in to see a woman cowering on the floor, clothes torn, her faced bruised and bloody, and standing over her a big, overweight brute wielding his belt.

Mark grabbed his arm from behind, whirled him around and slammed his fist into his face. The man staggered back but didn't fall. He bounced off the wall and came back at Mark with a head butt to the stomach. In seconds they were grappling on the floor as the woman whimpered close by.

Suddenly something snapped in Mark – rage, disgust, pity for the abused woman – and he lost control. With adrenaline coursing through him he had the man on the ground, pinning his arms with his knees. He saw in the repellant, brutal face all the ugliness and misery he had confronted lately on the streets. This thug was the cause of it all and Mark took it all out on him, slamming his fists into his face and on his chest while the man screamed for mercy.

He could easily have killed him except for a voice over him and a strong arm pulling him to his feet. "It's OK, officer, your backup's here. We got it under control. Try to calm down."

Mark shook his head and looked down at the bloody face as if he were seeing it for the first time. Mark's body was heaving, his eyes blazing, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He felt a hand on his shoulder and voice said, "Look, man, we'll take it from here. Looks like you're pretty close to the edge, buddy. Why don't you leave this to us and go home, straight home, mind, no stopping off for a drink. Then you should think seriously about taking some leave."

Mark looked vacantly into the sergeant's eyes and murmured, "Thanks, sergeant, you're right." He strode out of the house, threw his leg over his motorcycle and gunned it. He knew what he wanted – the soft touch of his boy and the warmth of his ass.

Mark wasn't due home for hours so Jamie was next door at Adam's house, kicking back with Adam, his boy Nate and Mario. The three boys were close friends and were fooling around affectionately. Adam was wearing just gym trunks and Jamie was playfully admiring the hot Aussie's awesome physique, telling Nate how lucky he was and laughingly betting Adam that they could get his cock hard without touching it. No one paid much attention to the engine shutting off next door and someone going through the gate. Probably Randy or Bob.

Mark raced into the apartment he shared with Jamie expecting him to be there waiting for him as he always was. He was so out of it that it didn't occur to him he was home hours early. When he saw the bed empty he roared with rage ... "Fuck him! ... Fuck him!" Then he heard voices from Adam's house next door.

He ran out of the apartment, through the gate linking the houses and stopped dead in his tracks. Jamie was there with Nate and Mario and all of them were still teasing Adam that they could make his dick hard – laughing, giggling, crawling over his near naked body, licking his nipples.

"You fucking slut!" Mark screamed, making the four of them break apart in shock. The uniformed cop loomed over them with crazed eyes and yanked Jamie to his feet. Adam shot to his feet and said, "What the fuck? Man, what's happened? You've gone crazy. Leave the kid alone, he wasn't doing any harm."

"Back off man and keep your hands off my boy," Mark yelled." Adam reached out to restrain him but Mark raised his fist and slammed it across his face sending Adam crashing to the ground. Mario and Nate tried to pull Jamie out of his grasp but Mark hit them too and sent them reeling, with Nate falling limply close to Adam. Adam instinctively reached out protectively to Nate and in the stunned confusion Mark dragged a terrified Jamie through the gate and into their apartment where he hurled him onto the bed.

Wildly Mark yelled, "You betrayed me, boy. You were fucking with that jerk but your ass belongs to me and I'll prove it." He ripped open his uniform pants, pulled out his cock, rock hard from racing adrenaline and blind lust, knelt on the bed and plunged it into the boy's ass. In his dementia Mark was hallucinating and saw not Jamie but the battered woman, heard her screams rather than his boy's, saw again the disgusting face of the brute beating her. Mark slapped the boy's face hard as he brutally fucked his ass. He was getting even with the world.

His boy's screams finally snapped him back to reality, but it was a warped reality where he saw Jamie getting fucked by Adam. "He fucked your ass, you little tramp. He fucked you!"

"No, sir please, he didn't. We were just playing. Please, sir, don't hit me again ... I love you sir, please ... aaagh...!" His agonized scream echoed round the room as Mark's cock exploded deep in his shattered ass. Panting wildly the cop looked at the handsome blond face twisted in pain, tears streaming down his face. Mark winced in confusion. Then, suddenly, it was the face of his boy, the boy he loved. He had been hurt, he was sobbing ... and through the fog of confusion Mark realized that the brute was himself.

He reared back in a panic ... He was lost ... he didn't know ... couldn't think..." He ran blindly from the room, out to the garden, then up the stairs to the one place he would be safe. He fell into Bob's arms just as he was about to come down, alarmed by the screams. Mark was totally incoherent ... "I hurt him ... hit him ...my god ... hit them all ... Adam, his boy. Help me, man ... I can't ...I can't..."

There was only one way to calm this kind of hysteria and Bob slapped him hard across the face. Reflexively Mark hit back and clamped his hands round Bob's throat choking him. Bob grabbed his wrists and gasped, "It's me, Mark ... Bob. Are you going to kill me too? I love you man."

In total bewilderment Mark stopped, gazed into the beautiful brown eyes of the man he loved... and suddenly went limp, collapsing on Bob sobbing like a terrified child.

Bob had to act fast, knowing that sympathy was not what was called for right now. Tough love was the answer. He went to a cabinet for some brandy, leaving Mark slumped in a chair, his face streaming with sweat, with the haunted expression of a man just waking from a nightmare. Bob pulled out his phone and punched the number of Doctor Steve. "Steve," he said quietly, "thank god you're there. Please come over fast. It's an emergency."

Then he forced Mark to drink some brandy and said to him sternly. "OK, I'll help you, but you have to do just what I tell you. First you've gotta go back to your boy who must be feeling terrified and alone. Come, I'll help you." Clumsily, stumbling, they retraced Mark's steps into his ground-floor apartment and into the bedroom where Jamie was lying on the bed sobbing hysterically in pain and despair.

Mark looked down at him, puzzled at first but then recognizing the enormity of what he had done. He fell on the bed and folded his arms round his boy. Jamie allowed himself to be hugged, mumbling, "I didn't do anything, sir, I swear it. I've been a good boy... I love you sir."

Bob took a deep breath and gazed at the two sobbing men – the distraught boy with red marks on his face, his clothes ripped off his body, enfolded in the desperate embrace of the uniformed cop.

Jesus Christ, Bob thought, what a fucking mess. He had suspected that Mark was close to the breaking point but had no idea that when he snapped it would be as bad as this. Bob hoped Steve would have some answers, and that Mark's relationship with Jamie was not shattered beyond repair. And god knows what Adam would do. With his Aussie machismo he sure as hell wouldn't let the cop get away with striking his boy.

Now that the initial trauma had been dealt with and Bob waited for Steve, he realized that he himself was in mild shock and instinctively reached for his phone, tapped a number and held it to his ear. His voice was unsteady as he said, "Randy, I need you. Mark's had some kind of breakdown and gone crazy. I can't do this on my own, buddy. I need your arms round me."

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 214

Hey guys, this is Rob Williams. I hope that chapter got you off, and I welcome your comments and suggestions, which can be very helpful in planning future chapters. E-mail me in confidence 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 pictures and biographies of all the characters and some other great artwork. Click on the `Our Story' tab to read the current chapter, or click on the green button to browse all the chapter synopses. Enjoy!