PART II: “THE STRENGTH TRIAL”
The courtyard behind the market was reserved for trials—where buyers tested merchandise before placing coin. Rafael remained seated, legs crossed, as Nico was hauled forward by the guards. His wrists were still bound. His muscles gleamed with sweat. His silence had not wavered.
“Remove the gag,” Rafael said. “Let him grunt when it hurts.”
The barrel was wheeled out—iron-hooped, solid wood, bloated with water. Nico’s task was clear.
“No warm-up,” the hacendado murmured. “Let’s see what he’s made of.”
Nico crouched low and pressed his forearms beneath the rim. His biceps flared. His legs coiled. With a grunt—deep and primal—he hoisted the barrel up and held.
Rafael sipped aguardiente, watching the strain ripple across the man’s back.
“Keep holding.”
Nico trembled. The other slaves watched silently from the shade. Rafael rose, walking in a slow circle around him, savoring the view—thick shoulders, roped forearms, thighs like marble.
He leaned in close.
“You’ll carry this and more under my rule,” he said. “And you’ll beg for the right to do it naked, whipped, and shackled.”
Nico didn’t answer.
But the quiver in his thighs betrayed everything.
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