A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 100 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER:

Randy's brutal revenge. "Not gonna be pretty," he tells the thugs, "but you see it never is when shit-for-brains mother-fuckers like you tangle with me ... and hurt my buddy." Afterwards, Randy and Bob make spectacular love. "All the pent-up emotion ... the pain, the fear, the sexual hunger ... overflowed like an active volcano." As that chapter closes a new one opens: Mark and Hassan in the desert .... with Jamie.

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 100 -- "RANDY'S REVENGE"

The events of the last couple of weeks had been the most traumatic the guys had ever lived through. Biking with Randy in the mountains, Bob and the Harley he was riding had been run off the road by a malicious drunk driver and it was touch and go that he would survive. But there was no way Randy was about to lose the man he lived for, and his superhuman efforts, physical and mental, saved his buddy's life.

Two weeks later Bob was on the mend and the house was finally resuming its normal routine and rhythm. Ever since the accident Randy had stayed close to Bob but finally he felt safe in leaving him for a few hours. It was Sunday morning and Mark was chatting with Bob and Randy in their bedroom while the twins prepared breakfast. But Randy was restless and suddenly jumped to his feet.

"You guys, I'm gonna skip breakfast. There's a piece of business I've gotta take care of ... just a short trip." He pulled on a tank top, jeans and boots and said, "I'll be back this afternoon. Take care of my man, Mark." He hugged Bob and left the room.

Outside he jumped onto the remaining Harley and roared away, his jaw set in a look of grim determination. "OK," he thought to himself. "Big Pines it is. And this time it's me you're dealing with, you mother-fucking pieces of shit. And it ain't gonna be pretty."

Back in the bedroom, Bob and Mark's conversation was interrupted by the twins bringing in breakfast trays. "The other guys are not up yet, sirs, so we thought you might like breakfast in here."

"Sure thing, kids," said Bob. "Bring up some for yourself and join us."

As soon as the twins left, Bob's cell phone rang. He smiled and flipped it open. "OK, handsome, what did you forget this time?"

There was a silence at the other end, then a throat cleared and a hesitant voice said, "Oh ... hi, Bob ... this is Hassan."

Bob took a sharp intake of breath, paused, then held out the phone to Mark. "Here, buddy ... it's for you."

"Me? Who the hell's calling me on your phone?"

Bob looked at him uneasily. "Hassan."

Mark leapt to his feet, ran his hands nervously through his hair, and paced round the room. So this was it. He had long since managed to bury in the deepest recesses of his memory the images of his wartime captivity and torture at the hands of the spectacular-looking Hassan. But Hassan's lust for Mark had brought him to this country where he was employed by the U.S. military. When he showed up in Los Angeles he had been brutally punished by Randy, but then Bob, ever the diplomat, had persuaded Hassan to contact him first, not Mark, when he eventually came back to live in California permanently. Hence this phone call.

All of this too Mark had pushed to the back of his mind. It was an avoidance mechanism to insulate him from the pain of that long-ago encounter and, worse, his own conflicted sexual feelings for the man. But his state of denial could not last forever ... the day of reckoning had to come. Underneath the confusion of his emotions and recollections he heard Bob's voice.

"Just a minute, Hassan. I'm still trying to locate Mark. I'm gonna put you on hold."

Bob looked up sympathetically at the haunted face of his friend. "You knew this was coming, buddy. Looks like today's the day. You want me to tell him I can't find you?"

Mark sighed. "Nah, this is something I've gotta face. Here ..." and he took the phone from Bob. Bob stood up to leave but Mark pulled him down to sit on the bed beside him. "Stay, buddy".

He released the mute button and said evenly into the phone, "This is Mark."

"There was a silence, then a deep but hesitant voice said, "Mark. It's really you. It's a long time since I heard that voice."

"Yeah ... long time." Mark breathed deeply as he heard the low, melodic, accented voice from another time and place. He collected himself. "Where are you?"

"Camp Pendleton. I've been transferred permanently to the Marine Base here. It's about 90 miles down the coast from you ..."

"I know where Pendleton is," Mark said abruptly. He was starting to feel angry ... not at Hassan but at his own confusion and inability to think straight and control the situation. "I'm a cop now, you know," he said rather incongruously, not sure why he mentioned it.

"I know, Hassan, said. "Bob told me ... and anyway I checked."

"You've been checking up on me?" Now there was distinct anger in his voice and Bob put a gentle restraining hand on his shoulder. "Look, man," Mark said to Hassan, "we can't have this conversation now, not over the phone like this. There's too much ... too much to say, to sort through."

Hassan spoke quickly. "I know, Mark. Look, I've rented a small place out on the desert, beyond Indio, somewhere I can get away from Pendleton on my days off."

"The desert? Indio? That sounds remote."

"Yeah, it is. I chose it deliberately."

Something jarred in Mark's memory but he shook it off. "Is that where you wanna meet?"

"We could talk there. Get things ... sorted out, as you put it."

Mark took a deep breath as his mind raced. "Look. I have a few days off at the end of the week. I'll give you my email address." He paused while Hassan wrote it down. "Send me directions how to get there and suggest a day. I make no promises ... We'll play it by ear."

"OK, Mark. Just as you say. I'll email you." Another silence, then the deep voice said softly, "It's good to hear your voice, Mark. Real good."

"Yeah ... right." And Mark snapped the phone shut.

Bob looked at his friend questioningly and Mark said quietly, "I can't do this, man."

"What's the problem?"

Mark leapt to his feet. "The problem is I've got a fucking hard-on. "Look man ... just the sound of his voice made my dick hard." He looked down at the bulge in his shorts.

Bob pulled him down beside him and put his arm round his shoulder. "You'll work through this, Mark, I know you will. You're tough ... and you're honest."

"Is that all you've got for me, buddy?" the cop asked. "No words of advice?"

Bob shrugged. "Just one, maybe. Take care of Jamie."

Mark looked at him, puzzled. But Bob knew the time had come to lighten the mood and he chuckled. "Hell, I'd like to see Randy's reaction to all this."

Mark grinned for the first time. "Yeah, well I have a feeling that guy has something else on his mind right now. Something quite different."

Mark was right, of course. Randy was at that moment gunning his motorcycle round the hairpin bends of Highway 2, headed for Big Pines, retracing the route he and Bob had taken a couple of weeks ago. The big construction worker was grateful for the rush of wind against his near-naked chest, covered only by a worn tank top. His swarthy face was set in an almost demonic look of determination as his mind re-ran the events of that shattering day. He saw Bob's bike being forced by a truck over the edge of the ravine, saw him lying crumpled against a tree, then in hospital, in a coma, at the very edge of life. He had almost died, for Christ sake!

Anger was supposed to be the second stage of grief, usually replaced by other emotions. Randy had gone through all the stages, but the difference for him was that nothing had replaced the anger. He had held it in check while he concentrated on helping Bob survive, but now it resurfaced. In fact as he raced along the mountain road his fury was accelerating. Those mother-fuckers had hurt the man he loved ... they had almost killed him.

Randy's rage was legendary to those who knew him, and there was only one way he knew to placate it. Revenge! So at this moment, oblivious of the spectacular scenery all round him, he had only one focus.

Big Pines is a ski resort in winter but now, in summer, it was a sleepy collection of a few houses, shops, a restaurant and bar. In fact, when Randy rode in at around noon it seemed like the whole place was asleep. As he coasted slowly through the town on his bike he knew what he was looking for. He was gambling on his hunch that the three shitheads he had glimpsed that day before they forced Bob off the road must live up here. They sure as hell weren't summer tourists and there was no other reason to be travelling that road.

And then he saw what he had been looking for ... a beat-up old red truck, parked behind the bar. He pulled up next to it, swung his leg over the bike and strode up to the door. Inside it was pitch black after the blinding sunlight and he stood in the doorway until his eyes adjusted. Gradually he saw that the small bar was almost empty ... a few hardened customers getting an early start on their day's drinking, and a woman behind the bar ... attractive, though she'd seen better days.

He walked to the bar and straddled a stool. The woman smiled. "Hi, handsome. Not often we get a stud like you in here. You're starting early. Looking for some action?"

"Yes ma'am," he grinned, "but not the kind you have in mind."

She chuckled. "Beer?"

"Sure ... and, er ... put in in a glass will you?"

"In a glass! Not every day I get that request, but sure, if that's what you want."

Randy turned and leaned his back against the bar, surveying the room. They weren't hard to spot ... three scruffy guys sitting at a table, nursing drinks. Two were fairly young, the third was older, maybe their old man. Randy stared at them hard, sizing them up. They were big, muscular brutes, rough-looking, no strangers to violence, he guessed. They had noticed him come in and were looking at him now, unsettled by his piercing gaze in their direction.

He propped his elbows on the bar behind him and sprawled on the stool, a dark, brooding gypsy of a man, his muscles straining under his tank top, his legs stretched out before him. As he sipped his beer he heard the bartender's voice over his shoulder. "Hey, big guy, a word in your ear. Those guys over there are bad news ... in and out of jail like a revolving door. Steer clear of them, stud, you don't wanna tangle with them ... they can get real mean."

Randy grinned and said over his shoulder. "Thanks for the advice, ma'am, but it's just a tad too late. See they already tangled with me and my buddy, and you're right ... they got real mean. So now it's my turn." He turned and smiled at her. "But thanks for the warning ... and the beer. You have a nice day now."

He picked up his glass of beer, still almost full, and sauntered over to the guys at the table. The older one stood up and faced him.

"What do you want, asshole?" he growled. "You got something to say to me and my boys?"

"Yeah, now you mention it," Randy said with a smile. "Just that you and your boys are three of the ugliest, motherfucking, pieces-of-shit assholes I ever laid eyes on. And I'm guessing you got shit for brains and dicks the size of a golf-tee. Here, have a drink on me." He raised the glass and upturned it over the guy's head. As beer poured over his head and face he was too startled to react. His boys too seemed frozen in place.

With a salute to the barmaid Randy strode out of the bar, straddled the Harley and rode slowly out of the parking lot.

He heard shouts over his shoulder, heard the slamming of car doors and knew that the truck was taking off after him. Randy grinned to himself and muttered, "That's it fellas. Let's go for a ride."

He opened the throttle of the Harley and the bike sped forward, with the truck not far behind. Randy could have outrun the truck easily, but that would have been no fun. Instead he kept a few hundred yards ahead and stayed that way for several miles until he saw what he was looking for. On the other side of the road there were skid marks leading over the edge of the steep drop at the spot where Bob's bike had been forced off the road.

Randy skidded to a halt, got off the bike on the grass verge and turned to face the oncoming truck. With a screech of brakes it sped past him, coming to a stop a few yards away. The doors flew open and the three guys jumped out. As they walked toward him Randy grinned, his legs astride, holding his arms out to his sides in a come-and-get-me gesture. In his jeans, boots and greasy old tank stretched over his muscular torso he looked formidable in the glare of the midday sun.

He sized the trio up again. They were a daunting sight, all right ... all of them tall, muscular, thuggish, with dark, stubbled faces that blazed with anger. The older guy was in front, brandishing a heavy tire iron, and he screamed, "Asshole. You just made a big mistake, man, and now me and the boys are gonna enjoy ourselves taking you apart."

As he came close he raised the tire iron and brought it crashing down toward Randy's head. Randy was lightning fast. He stood his ground, shot out his arm and grabbed the metal bar. With all his strength he twisted it out of the guy's fist, pulled it free, then swung it viciously into his stomach. With a deafening scream of pain the man doubled up and crashed to his knees, gripping his stomach. Randy whirled the bar over his head and flung it far out over the ravine. He preferred fists.

He walked over to the agonized man, pulled his face up by the hair and smashed his fist into it, sending his flying backward, falling heavily onto his back on the road. But instantly Randy felt strong arms come from behind, round his chest then up behind his neck, locking him in a vise-like full nelson. While one guy held him defenseless the other began savagely gut punching him.

The first guy was struggling to his feet and yelled, "That's it boys. Hold him there for me." He stumbled forward and took his turn slamming his fist into Randy's stomach and across his face. Through a blur Randy saw their brutish faces, the faces of the men who had almost killed Bob. And his fury made him invincible. He was held tight from behind, hanging by his arms, but he took a deep breath, raised his feet from the ground and shot his legs forward, slamming his boots into the chests of his two attackers.

Howling, they staggered backward and fell in a heap on the ground. Then, in a sudden move, Randy leaned forward and hurled the third guy over his back and head. The man lost his grip, flew forward through the air and landed on top of other two in a tangle of limbs. Randy knew he had them. His eyes blazed as he looked down at the men who had hurt his lover. His rage consumed him. Yelling obscenities at them he pounded their faces with his fists, slammed his boots into them, stomped on their writhing bodies, as they screamed for mercy.

He could have killed them but some restraining force deep within him finally made him hold back, and he looked down with grim satisfaction as they lay unconscious at his feet. He strode to his bike and pulled from the saddle bags lengths of rope, some cord and a long hunting knife.

The thugs were brought back to consciousness by the sensation of hot, bitter liquid blasting into their faces. Painfully they opened their eyes to see the figure of the construction worker in his filthy jeans and torn tank top holding his cock, pointing it down at them streaming with piss. Their next realization was that they were naked ... and right after that they realized they couldn't move.

Randy had cut their clothes off them with the knife. Then he had tied their wrists and pulled them up high behind their backs, looping the other end round the necks. He had dragged them out of sight of the road onto a flat area a few feet over the edge. Now, his piss all spent, he looked down at their sniveling, urine-covered faces.

His chest still heaved as he growled at them. "What a bunch of piss-soaked, dead-beat losers! You wanna know why I did this? Because a couple weeks ago you ran my buddy off the road, right here, and you almost killed him. If he had died I swear I would have murdered you. Lucky for you he lived, so I won't kill you ... though you're gonna wish I had."

Randy pulled from his pocket several lengths of cord. He knelt in front of the bound men, who were still too dazed and weak to react. Quickly, methodically, he tied the cord tightly round their balls, at the base of their cock. Ignoring their screams, he took the three loose ends of cord and tied them all together, so the thugs were roped together by the balls.

He stood back and surveyed his work as the three men sobbed pitifully. "OK," he said, "so let's see what we have here ... three pathetic cowards, butt naked and roped together by their balls. But I don't want anyone to find you for a while, and that truck of yours is a dead giveaway. So how do we handle that ... what would you guys do? Ah ... that's right, I remember what you did to my buddy's bike. I'll be right back ... don't go anywhere, boys."

He gathered up the ripped remains of their clothes, climbed the few feet up to the road and walked back to the truck. He threw the clothes in the back, got in and started the engine. He drove it right to the edge of the road `til it was balancing over the side. He got out, put his shoulder against the edge of the door and, gathering all his strength, pushed the truck forward.

It only needed to go a few more feet before it tipped forward. He sprang clear and watched it plunge over the edge with a roar of crushed metal and broken glass. He grinned with satisfaction as the truck rolled crazily over and over down the slope until he heard the distant boom as it crashed to its final resting place at the foot of the ravine.

The bound captives had watched in horror as their truck ... and their clothes ... were totally demolished. Panic seized them as they saw Randy coming back down to them. "So much for the truck," he said. "Now for you ass-wipes." Grabbing the ropes again he dragged the guys down the hill, getting grim satisfaction from the sight of their naked bodies scraping over the gravel, and from the sound of their screams as their balls were brutally stretched. About a hundred feet down he stopped and glared down at them as their grazed and wounded bodies jerked in pain.

"Now," he said. "That day, thanks to you guys, I had to carry my buddy all the way up to the road. Take it from me, it's real steep, and I almost didn't make it. There again, I didn't have my hands tied behind me. Oh, and of course my balls weren't tied to my buddies' balls like you assholes. So you're gonna have to drag yourselves, crawl on your stomachs, and you're gonna torture each other's balls all the way up. Not gonna be pretty ... but you see it never is when shit-for-brains mother-fuckers like you tangle with me and ... worse ... hurt my buddy."

"But my guess is you'll make it to the top, and when you do you better hope some friendly driver will stop when he sees three naked assholes roped together on the road. Good luck with that. Oh, and when your pathetic, naked asses are dragged back into town and the story gets around ...... which should take about ten minutes in a town that size ..... your reputations won't be worth shit and you'll have to high-tail it out of town fast. Good luck with that too, guys. Just remember to put some clothes on before you leave town. You, naked ..... not a pretty sight."

He walked a few feet up, then turned back to look at them. "By the way, the name's Randy. Been a pleasure meeting you boys. You take care, now ... and have a good trip."

With their howls for mercy ringing in his ears he climbed back up to the road, straddled the Harley and sped away. In the sudden stillness there was nothing left to see except skid marks leading off the road and over the cliff.

It was late afternoon and Bob, Mark, Zack and the boys were lounging by the pool. There was a lot of speculation about what Randy was doing and how long he would be. Bob was a bit nervous but Zack reassured him. "You should know better than anyone, buddy, that when Randy's real angry nothing, and nobody, can stop him. My guess is there are a few guys right now who are regretting the day they ever messed with him."

Suddenly there was the roar of an engine outside and screeching tires. "See," Zack said. "What did I say?"

The gate flew open and the guys stared with a collective gasp. Randy stood there, chest heaving, his eyes still alive with the thrill of physical triumph. His face was covered in dirt and sweat and the torn tank top hung from his grazed and bruised torso. He was a blaze of jubilation, arrogance and dark, macho power ... and there was not a cock among them that didn't get hard.

Mark broke the stunned silence, asking simply, "Good trip?"

"Yup."

Zack grinned. "You, er, take care of business."

"Yup."

Randy strode over to Bob and gazed down at him. "Come with me," he said.

They went up to the bedroom and instinctively Bob lay on his back on the bed. He was wearing just swim shorts. They gazed at each other for long seconds, and then Bob said, "So, you got your revenge. Maybe now we can close the book on that chapter?"

"Almost. There's just one more thing. When you were lying in hospital, I don't know if you could hear me, but I made a bargain. I said that if you came back to me I'd make love to you like I never have before. Up to now I've been letting you get better ... treating you gently ... kinda scared to touch you. That's meant no sex for a couple of weeks ..."

Bob interrupted. "... and now here you are just back from a long, hard fight, and that always makes you hot and horny as a stallion." He smiled. "Well I'm better now ... and you don't have to be scared about touching me." He slid his shorts off and tossed them aside."

Randy breathed deeply. "God, man, you look so fucking beautiful when you're naked. Do you want me to clean up first?"

"Hell no!" Bob gazed up at the construction worker, face and body covered in dirt, stinking of sweat, his muscles gleaming under the shreds of his torn shirt. "Wouldn't have you any other way."

Randy lowered himself on top of his lover and they began to kiss ... gently at first, then more passionately until it was almost savage as they ground their mouths together in the ecstasy of relief and rediscovery. Their ordeal was over and they were united as never before. All the pent-up emotion of the last two weeks ... the pain, the fear, the sexual hunger ... all of it overflowed like an active volcano. Randy wrapped his arms round Bob in a bear hug and they rolled over and over ... off the bed, over the floor, unable to satisfy the mounting lust that surged through them.

They gazed into each other's eyes and, as they saw their own infinite reflection, they once again experienced that mystifying flash of spiritual union that was sensed but never understood. Then physical need consumed them and they became animals. Randy ripped open his pants, pulled out his iron-hard cock and plunged it hard into Bob's ass, not stopping until it was embedded deep inside the man he worshipped. And then began the best fuck of their lives.

Again and again Randy's huge cock pistoned deep inside the ass he loved, making Bob moan with pure joy as he felt the pain and the ecstasy of being pounded by this glorious man. They couldn't do enough to express the passion and hunger that they felt. Bob clamped his hands over Randy's bulging pecs, curled his fingers round the ragged shirt and ripped it from his body.

Randy too touched his lover's chest, squeezing his nipples with all his strength. Bob matched him and soon the men were torturing each other's tits, trying through pain to express their longing as the relentless cock continued to pierce the willing ass again and again, harder and harder. It was as if it would never end ... they never wanted it to end.

They were spiraling into a world that only they knew, where only they lived. This is why they met, this is why they had been inseparable ever since. As they made love, scenes of their story together flew through their minds ... the motel, the lake, the fantasies, the ropes, the whips, the pain, the partings and the reunions. Always coming back together ... for the love they shared, and for spectacular sex like this. This is why Randy had used all his strength of body and mind to bring Bob back to life ... and this is why Bob had survived.

Time did not exist as they kissed, fucked, clawed at each other, gazed at each other. They rolled over and over, desperate not to let go. The heat in their groin flamed through their bodies, their eyes opened wide as they stared at each other in amazement. They heard themselves screaming ... and everything went dark.

Seconds later they found themselves in each other's arms, finally at peace. They became aware of the warm creamy liquid between their bodies and realized they had both had orgasms, spectacular orgasms, as Randy had exploded in Bob's ass and Bob had blasted streams of white juice over both their bodies.

As their breathing subsided they gazed at each other. Randy smiled. "That's how it's gonna be from now on, man. We've been through too much to have it any other way. That's why I called you back to me, and that's why you came."

Bob sighed. "I'm sure glad we can close that particular chapter on our lives."

"Yeah," Randy grinned. "But you know what they say. As one chapter closes, another one opens. You ready?"

"I'm right there with you, buddy ... you know that."

But as it happened, the next chapter in the lives of this community of extraordinary men belonged not to Randy or Bob, but to Mark and Hassan ... and Jamie. Hassan did, of course, email Mark, giving directions to the remote desert house he had rented. And Mark had decided to meet him there during his upcoming three-day weekend.

Jamie knew the entire story of Mark's wartime capture and interrogation by Hassan, and of their confused, mutual attraction to each other. Mark had insisted that he be there when he had first related the story to Bob. "Of course, I wanted Jamie here to know," he had said. "He's my boy. We have to know each other completely." But so engrossed and troubled was Mark by the coming trip that he had not yet discussed it with Jamie.

Bob had warned him, "Take care of Jamie." And now Bob saw the truth of his advice as he went into the office early next morning where Jamie was working ... and clearly not happy. Bob watched as the boy sat grim-faced pounding hard at the computer keyboard.

"Whoa," Bob laughed. "Don't take it out on the keyboard, Jamie. If you have something on your mind, try me."

There was silence and Bob said quietly, "It's Mark, isn't it? Mark and Hassan."

When Jamie turned round there were tears in his eyes. "He's going, isn't he, sir? He's going to meet Hassan in the desert."

"Yes, Jamie," Bob said gently. "Look this is something you have to talk over with Mark. Leave it to me."

Mark had just finished dressing for work when Bob went into his room. "Hey, buddy. Do me a favor. Drop in on Jamie in the office before you leave. He's having a tough time."

Jamie didn't hear Mark come quietly into the room, but as he continued to hammer the keyboard he felt firm hands grasp his shoulders from behind. He whirled round and looked up at the cop, looking magnificent as always in his police uniform.

"Jamie," Mark said. "I know I should have discussed this with you before now but ..."

"... but you're going to the desert," Jamie interrupted. He was so scared and upset that he blurted out his fears without thinking. "You're going to meet with Hassan. I know how you feel about him, sir, and I know you want him. I only saw him once just for a moment, but Darius says he's really spectacular looking. So that's it for me, I guess. You won't have two guys at once so you'll get rid of me. I always knew you would ..." and his voice trailed off.

Anger boiled up in Mark and he took a deep breath to control himself before he answered. "I thought you were over your paranoia a long time ago, boy. Look at this..." he pointed to the tattoo on Jamie's arm ... an intertwined MM. "I even branded you to convince you that you're my boy and always will be. I thought you had accepted that ... but now this!"

Jamie frowned. "Sorry, sir."

Mark softened. "Jamie, I can understand your concern. The situation between Hassan and me is very complicated and I mean to sort it out once and for all. But the last thing I want is for you to get anxious ... and that's why I'm taking you with me." Jamie looked at him in amazement.

"That's why I haven't said anything `til now, until I'd arranged things. On my three days off I'm taking you to Palm Springs. I've booked us into a nice resort and we'll have a great time together, you and me. But for a few hours during that time I'm gonna have to go out to see Hassan on my own. It's not far out in the desert from the Springs. And when we've cleared things up I'm gonna have you come and meet Hassan. You're my boy and I want you to be a part of whatever decisions I make. Does that make you feel better?"

Jamie was silent as he tried to get his mind around all this. He didn't totally succeed and still looked glumly at the floor.

"OK," Mark said sternly. "One thing I won't stand for is your doubting me. I guess I'm gonna have to show you again how much you mean to me. And if that means punishing you for your lack of faith in me, so be it. Now strip and get on the floor."

Jamie was dazed but did as his master ordered. He dropped his shorts, pulled off his T-shirt and lay on his back on the carpet. He gasped as Mark dropped to his knees, ripped open his uniform pants and pulled out his rigid cock. He grabbed Jamie's ankles, pushed them back and pressed his cock against the boy's ass. "Now, look at me, Jamie. Touch me"

Jamie stared up at the beautiful blond face, and put his hands on the black shirt, feeling the hard pecs underneath. He ran his hands over the badges, over the shoulders, down over the biceps bulging under the short sleeves. He traced the line of the cop's wide lats and finally he grasped the leather belt at the slim waist.

"OK, kid, that's what it looks like. Now here's what it feels like. He plunged his cock into the tender, warm ass, pulled it partway out, then pushed it in deeper. He was motivated partly the love of his boy, the beautiful young blonde surfer who he knew worshipped him, but also by anger that the boy still doubted him. So the fuck was more forceful than usual as he pistoned inside the young, moist ass that he knew so well and had penetrated so many times.

Jamie stared up at the piercing blue-gray eyes, at the chiseled blonde features, at the black uniform stretched over the muscular body. He was being fucked hard by his master the cop. Painful as it was, this was his fantasy, what he lived for, dreamed about, waited for each day. But this was rougher than usual and there was an edge of fear to his joy as he saw the anger in his master's eyes.

"OK, Jamie, now you're gonna do what I tell you. I want you to cum without touching yourself. You ready?"

"Yes, sir," Jamie breathed.

OK, boy, I'm gonna cum inside your ass. Let me see you shoot your load, Jamie. Now!"

As Jamie felt his master's juice flowing inside him his own cock shuddered and blasted creamy white cum over his chest and face. Mark gazed down at the glorious sight of his beautiful boy smothered in his own cum. Then suddenly he pulled his cock out, stood up and grabbed a nearby towel. As he wiped his cock, then stuffed it inside his shorts and buttoned up his pants he spoke sternly to Jamie.

"OK, kid. You did great. But your punishment is not over. I'm going to work now and I'll be back at six this evening. When I come in I want to see you naked on the bed, ready for me. As soon as I walk in I'm gonna handcuff you to the bed and fuck your ass as hard as I just did. And after dinner, before bed, I'm gonna fuck you again, and as many times as I want during the night."

"In the morning you get handcuffed and fucked again, and then again in the evening. And that will happen every day until we leave town. By that time you will have been fucked hard so many times that your ass will be good and sore. Maybe then you'll understand. I want you to know that I own you, you will always be my boy, and you will do whatever I say. Is that clear?"

Jamie gazed up at him wide-eyed. "Yes, sir. It's clear, sir."

Mark put on his helmet and dark glasses, spun on his heel and strode from the room, leaving Jamie gasping on his back on the floor. He was in a daze; he couldn't get up. His ass was sore and he could still feel his master's cock pounding it. Then he thought about the week to come, about being chained to the bed, getting his ass fucked morning and night, again and again by this god-like man. He imagined the uniformed cop towering over him, yanking open his pants and pulling out his cock.

"Oh, yes, sir," he breathed. "Please fuck me again, sir. I need it, sir. I'll be good. I'll never doubt you again, sir. I just want to feel your dick in my ass." Jamie was unaware that his cock was hard again, unaware that in his trance he began stroking it, unaware of the heat rising from his groin. But he jolted back to reality as he felt hot cum splashing onto his chest for a second time, mixing with the pool already there, smothering his young body."

He lay there breathing deeply, still mesmerized, gazing up at the ceiling. He was startled when the door suddenly opened and there stood Bob, gaping in disbelief at what he saw. Bob started to laugh and said, "So, can I take it you made your peace with Mark?"

"Yes, sir," Jamie gasped He grabbed the towel Mark had discarded and furiously wiped his face and stomach.

"That's it," Bob grinned. "Wipe yourself good before you sit at the desk. You get any of that in the keyboard you'll make the keys stick together." Jamie couldn't help laughing as he stood up, pulled on his shorts and T-shirt and sat down.

"So, you feel alright now about your trip to the desert? Still a bit apprehensive probably, that's only natural."

"A bit, sir. But Mark made me feel better about all that. And Darius says that Hassan is a really spectacular guy ... `with a face and body that won't quit,' he said."

"That he is," Bob agreed. "But there's no need for you to be afraid of him."

"Oh, I'm not, sir," said Jamie. "Not any more. In fact I can't wait to meet him. I just hope he likes me."

Bob frowned to himself as a fleeting, vaguely disturbing, sensation ran through him that he couldn't identify. But it vanished just as quickly and Bob was all business again. "OK, Jamie, back to work."

He left the room and Jamie focused on the computer, but with thoughts of the desert still floating through his head.

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength ... Part 101"