A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 108 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER:

Pablo is back; the repercussions begin. First he begs Darius, "Do it hard, man. Punish me ... I need it." Then Randy thrashes Hassan. "I'm gonna fucking kill you, you son-of-a-bitch. I'm the boss here, asshole. You're finished." The shirtless soldier crawls beaten in the dirt. Finally Randy confronts Pablo. "You say you behaved like a cheap hustler in that motel? Well show me, boy. Show me what you did."

I welcome your comments and suggestions, guys as they can be very helpful in planning future chapters. E-mail me in confidence at rw6789@aol.com. I always reply.

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. Enjoy!

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH – CHAPTER 108 – "Painful Repercussions"

The desolate young kid huddled on a bench outside Union Station bore no resemblance to the cocky, tough young guy who had sat next to Hassan in his jeep less than twenty-four hours earlier. On the drive down to Camp Pendleton Pablo had been exhilarated sitting shoulder to shoulder with the handsome, muscular soldier. But the journey back was as different as night from day as, all alone, he had stared miserably out of the train window.

There is nothing like watching the outside world slide past the window of a moving train to make a person reflect on his life, melancholy as his thoughts might be. Pablo's mind wandered over the events of the previous evening, when everything had gone dramatically wrong and his illusions of the Marines and Hassan had crumbled. Thank God for the money Bob had slipped into his pocket the day before, which enabled him to buy a train ticket back to L.A.

He had escaped just in time ... but escaped to what? Where was he headed? ... to a world that had once been warm and welcoming but that would now shun him for sure. He had betrayed Randy and no doubt offended Darius, Mark and Jamie. Thank God that when he called the house it was Bob who had answered ... "Stay right where you are, Pablo. I'll be right there ... don't worry, kiddo. You're gonna be fine. I'll take care of you."

Bob ... that gorgeous, kind, gentle man who never criticized him and just maybe might be the one guy who wouldn't criticize him even now in spite of all his shameful behavior. Just then he saw, sweeping through the gates of the station forecourt, Bob's big black Mercedes. His immense relief was tinged by fear of the unknown reception he was about to get.

As the Mercedes slid up to the curb Pablo pulled himself to his feet and took a deep breath. Bob's first sight of him was heartbreaking, this proud young kid in a torn T-shirt standing to attention trying to retain some shreds of dignity in what had to be a humiliating situation.

Bob jumped out of the car and walked round it toward the boy. When Pablo saw the beautiful man, stunning in jeans and a plain white T-shirt, all attempts at dignity crumbled and he fell into Bob's outstretched arms. He felt the muscular arms enfold him and knew, finally, that he was safe.

Bob felt the hard young body trembling against him, whether because he was cold, afraid, or stifling sobs he couldn't tell. He only knew that he had to get him home fast. Wordlessly they clung together, when suddenly Bob heard a voice.

"You'll have to move your car ... can't park here, it's a red zone."

Over Pablo's shoulder Bob saw the security guard and his eyes blazed in that devastating executive stare that had withered many men in its time. The guard was taken aback by the strikingly handsome man and stammered, "Oh, sorry, sir. Take your time ... sorry, sir."

"Come on kiddo," Bob said in Pablo's ear, "let's get out of here. I have a shirt in the car for you."

A few seconds later the Mercedes was gliding out thought the gates headed for the freeway and Pablo was wrapped in a warm flannel shirt. There was silence at first, except for the soft purring of the engine. Bob thought it best to let Pablo take the lead in his own time, but when his words tumbled out they were hesitant, fragmented.

"Thank you, sir ... I'm sorry I ... it was all my fault, sir ... I think I lost my mind. I thought I was in love with Hassan ... but then there was this other Marine ... he.... he tried to rape me in the motel ... but I fought him off, sir, and ran away."

"Where did you spend the night, Pablo?"

"I slept on the beach, sir. I'd left my wallet and cell phone in the motel but then I found the $40 you gave me ... thank you, sir, it saved me. I caught the train and then called you when I got here, sir. If it hadn't been for you I ..."

His voice trailed off into a sob and Bob put his arm round him. "Sshh, Pablo. Plenty of time for explanations later. Right now you need a hot shower and sleep."

"But, sir ... what about ... about Randy ... I know he won't want me anymore and that I'll have to leave the house, but could you tell him I'm ... not hurt or anything?"

"Don't worry, kid, I'll take care of all that. We'll be home in a minute.

It was not long before Pablo was stepping out of the shower into his bedroom, wrapped in a big, warm towel. Bob had pulled from a drawer a clean T-shirt and boxers and Pablo dried himself and put them on. Before he got into bed he put his arms round Bob once again.

"Sir," he said softly, "when I leave the house I hope ... well, I'd like to see you again sometime sir. I know Randy won't want me but I'd like to stay friends with you, sir, if you think ..."

Bob smiled at him. "Pablo, I'll always be in your life no matter what. I'm hard to shake off, kiddo. But don't think about all that now. Get into bed and try to sleep. Things'll look better when you're not so tired. And don't worry ... I'll get word to Randy."

Pablo fell into bed and pulled the covers up round his neck. Immediately he felt exhaustion envelope him like a heavy blanket, and as he closed his eyes he murmured, "Sir, I forget, did I say thank you yet for everything you ... for being there for me? I ... I love you, sir."

And then he fell asleep.

Bob walked across the lawn to his office upstairs where Jamie was working. The boy knew something was up but was confused and looked at Bob in concern. "Pablo's home," Bob said. "He came back on the train."

"What happened, sir? What about Hassan? Where's Hassan." Jamie felt a special intimacy with Hassan as he was Mark's friend, and he had resented Pablo taking off with him.

"There's a lot to work out, Jamie, and you can help. I know Mark is at work but try to contact him if you can. Tell him that Pablo's home and see if he can get word to Hassan. Hassan must be really worried right around now. Tell him Pablo's OK. I'm gonna call Randy."

Jamie looked at him with the trace of a smile. "Good luck, sir."

"Yeah, Bob sighed. "We're gonna need a lot of that round here in the next few days."

"Is he hurt?" were Randy's first words when Bob called him at the construction site.

"No, he's fine ... physically at least."

"What happened?"

"Hard to say, exactly. He was a bit incoherent. Seems Hassan took him to a motel and there was another Marine who ..."

"... who what, dammit?"

"Well, he may have tried to rape him ..."

"Son-of-a-bitch."

"... but it seems Pablo fought him off ..."

"Of course he did."

"... and he ran away and spent the night on the beach. He caught the train home and he's in bed now, asleep. No need for you to come home ... he'll sleep for a long while, I think."

When Randy snapped his phone shut he paced around the construction site deep in thought, his fists clenched. He was a mass of conflicting emotions ... relief that Pablo was safe most of all, but still with residual anger and profound disappointment that the boy had left him and chosen Hassan instead. Hassan! That was what dominated his mind more than anything ... his blind rage at what the man had done.

But right now his concern was for Pablo. Pride made it impossible for Randy to go to him. He was not sure what he felt about their future together ... even if they still had one. He could not forgive him right now, that was for sure. Still, he knew his boy, knew how desolate he must be feeling, and what he needed at this moment was some kind of forgiveness from someone. Suddenly he walked over to Darius who was working on the site that day.

"Hey, punk. I'm giving you the rest of the day off. Get your ass back home and go look after your friend. He came home alone and it seems he's had a pretty rough time. So right around now he could use a friendly face and a warm pair of arms. Go take care of him."

"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir. I'm right on it." Darius raced off the site, jumped into his truck and sped away."

As Pablo had guessed, Darius had been a bit wounded when Pablo had fallen in lust with Hassan and abandoned Darius and all his friends to go away with him. So Darius was not sure how he would feel about his lover when he saw him. The house was quiet when he reached home. He assumed that Bob and Jamie were working in the office so he went quietly up to the bedroom he shared with Pablo.

He stared down at the bed and any feelings of animosity instantly evaporated. Pablo was tossing restlessly in his sleep. In the warmth of the room he had thrown off his T-shirt and shorts and his naked body shone with a gleam of sweat. He moaned softly and his face looked pinched and troubled. But in spite of that he looked beautiful as ever.

Moving instinctively Darius kicked off his work boots, dropped his jeans and pulled off his shirt. He lowered himself gently onto the bed, pressed his naked body against his friend and put his arms round him. He felt his buddy stir, then turn towards him, and slowly Pablo's eyes opened. He blinked uncertainly, then said, "Darius ... it's you."

"Course it is, dude. The boss said you're in trouble, so here I am." He kissed him lightly on the lips and reached round to feel his cock. "Come on, dude ... say you're pleased to see me."

Pablo was still groggy. "But I thought you wouldn't want ... I mean, after what I did and all. I thought you'd walk out on me ... never forgive me."

Darius grinned. "Walk out on you and that gorgeous ass of yours? ... Never! As for forgiveness ... well, we'll have to work on that. Probably depends on how good your story is about your trip down south." He squeezed him. "And I do want all the details, kid, every last one. But right now I'm supposed to be making you feel good ... and there's only one sure way I know how to do that ... speaking of your ass."

Gently he turned Pablo round onto his stomach and knelt astride him. He looked down at the rounded globes of his ass, ran his hands over them, then pressed his hands down on the small of Pablo's back. "Well, evidently no damage to your ass, thank God. Gotta keep your assets intact and that, dude, is one awesome fucking asset. You know I have to fuck it, don't you?"

"Yes, sir. Please, sir," Pablo mumbled, his face buried in his pillow. Darius was right. At this moment Pablo wanted to put everything else out of his mind and give himself to his lover ... and his ten-inch dick. He felt the head press between the cheeks of his ass, then glide in slowly, deeper and deeper until the head passed over the inner sphincter and touched the secret place that always sent tongues of fire through his body.

They had fucked so often that Darius usually found some inventive way to make it feel new and different every time. Usually his talent for fantasy took off, his words were raunchy, and he pounded hard. But this time it was quite different, as there was none of that. This was the gentlest, most loving fuck Pablo could ever remember from Darius. It was as if Darius was massaging the hurt away as his cock tenderly stroked inside the velvet ass.

Pablo felt the cock pull out, then slowly reenter him, inch by inch by inch, endlessly, until it came to rest deep inside him. He had not realized how tender Darius could be, how he could use that huge cock as a caress rather than a battering ram. Pablo felt all his tension, all his fears, melt away as a glow suffused his body. His pushed his ass upward, eager to feel every inch of his lover's cock inside him.

"That's it, kiddo," Darius whispered. "Now show me how much you still love me."

Pablo smiled into his pillow and, taking a deep breath, squeezed his ass tight around the long, hard rod. It was almost as if he was denying Darius entry and the feeling was sensational for both of them as the rod slid implacably between the clenched membrane of the tight ass.

"Oh, God, that feels awesome dude. Man, your ass is so fucking tight. But you can't keep me out. That big hard dick can penetrate your beautiful ass however tight you squeeze it. Come on, harder, kiddo. Squeeze my dick harder ... it feels amazing."

Pablo had never felt the union between cock and ass as intensely as this. All sensation, every fiber of his body, was centered in his ass as it was penetrated by the huge shaft. Suddenly Pablo relaxed his muscles and Darius knew what his lover wanted.

"You want it hard now, dude?"

"Yes, sir. Please ... real hard. Punish me ... I need it."

"OK, kiddo. Stand by for the big finish."

This was punishment and forgiveness all in one. Darius pulled all the way out, his trembling cock paused, then plunged back into the ass like a piston rod. Pablo screamed into the pillow as the rod smashed against the back of his ass, then pulled out and pierced him again, then again, endlessly. His body was being pinioned to the bed by the black stake driving mercilessly into him.

The pain was intense, but he gloried in it. This is what he wanted, the punishment he needed for having deserted his lover. He was back home... and Darius was inside him. He knew now that Darius would not leave him. His healing process had begun. Darius's face and body were streaming with sweat now as he hammered his lover's ass savagely. He loved that gorgeous ass, and he loved the boy. They were perfect together.

As his body heaved Darius said breathlessly, "You know what we said about working on forgiveness? Well this is me working on it, dude. You wanna see how much I forgive you?"

"Yes, sir," Pablo breathed heavily. "Yes, sir ... show me."

"This much..." Darius yelled, and he buried his cock in deep once last time and blasted a huge load of hot juice in the bowels of his lover's ass. He pulled out and plunged it in again, with another explosion of cum. Pablo screamed and his own cock erupted under him, soaking the sheets in cum, a spectacular release of all the tension that had built up in him since yesterday. He pushed his ass upward, wanted more of his lover's juice and he got it, streaming out in one of the longest orgasms Darius had ever known.

At last they came to rest and in a few minutes Pablo was lying exhausted in his lover's arms. He gazed into Darius's green eyes and asked softly. "Was that forgiveness?"

"It sure as hell was," Darius said, "and a whole lot else besides. Now go back to sleep, dude and I'll stay here with you." He grinned. "And when we wake up I'm gonna forgive you all over again."

A few minutes later Bob quietly opened the door to check on Pablo and stopped in surprise as he saw him in Darius's arms, both of them fast asleep. He was confused for a moment, then realized what had happened. When he had got Bob's phone call Randy's pride wouldn't let him come and comfort Pablo ... a hint of forgiveness ... so he had done the next best thing ... sent Darius. And as it turned out that was the perfect solution.

Bob smiled as he thought of Randy, shook his head and murmured, "You son-of-a-bitch."

But by then Randy had put Bob, Pablo and Darius out of his mind, everything...except Hassan. The construction crew had never seen him like this. Usually so hands-on he now seemed totally disconnected from the work going on around him. He paced, clenched his fists, and saw only one thing ... Hassan's face.

His anger was notorious but the fury he felt now was different ... deeper. Sure, he was angry that Hassan had (as Randy believed) enticed Pablo away with him then abandoned him and let him get hurt. That was bad enough, but Randy had many times exacted revenge on guys who hurt any one of his buddies. No, this time was different, more personal. Hassan was a beautiful man, muscular, exotically handsome, powerful, and right from the first Randy had regarded him as a threat, a challenge to his supremacy.

In his mind Hassan had challenged him by taking away one of his most prized possessions, Pablo, his boy, his adopted son. Hassan had triumphed over him, and in front of the whole group of guys at the house. Randy couldn't let that challenge go unpunished. He was the boss ... always was, always had to be ... and this man had dared to humiliate him in front of his buddies. This was not simply revenge for hurting his boy. This was a burning need to establish his own supremacy and make the man crawl in submission.

And so all afternoon he was obsessed by thoughts of brutal retribution. His instinct was to drive straight down to Camp Pendleton and confront Hassan, obliterate him. But even through his blinding rage he knew that if he busted his way into the Marine Base he would be arrested as a terrorist. But there had to be a way.

"Hey boss, we've finished over there. What's next?" The voice of the foreman broke into his raging thoughts and he looked up bewildered.

"What? Oh, yeah, right. Er ... listen, it's four o'clock. No sense starting a new project now. Why don't you guys cut out. I'll lock up."

"You OK, boss?"

"Yeah, sure. I, er, just got a few things to sort out."

Soon Randy was pacing round an empty site, planning, fuming. He couldn't get Hassan's damn face out of his mind ... And then suddenly ... there it was! ... the face, the body, the man! He was staring at Hassan. He heard his voice.

"Listen, Randy. I had to come up here see you as soon as I heard. I've come to explain, to apologize. And I've brought back Pablo's wallet and phone that he left behind."

There was complete silence. Randy frowned as if he almost didn't believe what he was seeing ... the big, muscular soldier in khaki T-shirt and fatigue pants, and heavy combat boots. But it was! It was him, standing there as bold as a beacon. And suddenly all the pent-up rage spilled over, all he could see was his enemy ... and the still air was shattered by a roar as Randy lunged forward and clamped his hands round Hassan's throat.

He was totally out of control as he screamed. "I'll kill you ... I'm gonna fucking kill you. I hate your fucking guts, you bastard, and I'm gonna fucking kill you!"

Taken completely by surprise Hassan gripped Randy's wrists trying to pull them apart, but they were like steel vises. He had never felt such animal strength and his eyes opened wide, veins standing out in his neck and face. He couldn't speak ... he was choking. Unable to break the stranglehold he stepped backward, pulling Randy with him. But Randy lifted him so his feet were off the ground and shook him like a dog shakes a rat.

Hassan's face was wild with fear, his muscular body hung helplessly as Randy held him suspended by the neck in a death grip. Hassan felt himself being propelled backward until his back crashed against an old, disused concrete wall. Randy slammed his body against it again and again and he was close to the end when suddenly the weak concrete crumbled and the men crashed to the ground with concrete falling around them.

Randy lost the stranglehold and although Hassan was weakened, he instinctively smashed his fist against Randy's jaw and sent him sprawling. Both men crawled, stunned, in the dirt and eventually staggered to their feet. Randy was about to charge him again when something made him stop. Hassan was standing with his arms outstretched, leaving his body vulnerable.

"OK, man, here I am," he said. "I had this coming, and I knew it. I did wrong ... I hurt your boy. I deserve everything you can throw at me. But punish me, man, not the boy. Punish me."

Randy shook his head in disbelief. But he barely heard the words, drowned out by the pitch of his rage. He walked forward and smashed his fist across Hassan's cheek, then the other, then again ... and again. Hassan staggered backward with each blow but without resistance, determined to take the beating he felt he deserved.

But his gritty endurance, his ability to stand his ground and take the beating infuriated Randy even more. "Come on asshole, fight me!" He slammed a vicious fist in Hassan's stomach and then, as he doubled over, smashed an uppercut into his face. Hassan's head flew backward, his body arched upward, his feet left the ground and he crashed down into the dirt.

Randy was on him in an instant, kneeling over him. He grabbed the neck of his T-shirt and hauled his face up, smashing the back of his hand against it from side to side. He watched with satisfaction as the handsome, dark exotic face flew helplessly from side to side. Finally Randy stood up without releasing the shirt and with one heave ripped it clean off his body.

He gazed down at the body, stripped to the waist now, and saw the tortured muscles gleaming beneath him. Incapable of conscious thought Randy reached blindly for a length of rope hanging from a beam, coiled it round his fist and raised his arm. "You fucker," he screamed. "You mother-fucking son-of-a-bitch. I'm the boss here, asshole and Pablo is my boy. You're nothing! You're finished, man."

His arm flashed downward and Hassan screamed as he felt the rope bite into his chest. Immediately another blow fell across his shoulders, then another across his flexed abs. Frantically he twisted away in a futile effort to escape, but he felt the rope burn against his back. The shirtless soldier writhed desperately in the dirt, half rising to his feet, stumbling a few yards, then crashing back to the ground, his body writhing in pain from the brutal, burning lash of the rope.

His body was on fire, covered in welts and bruises, sweating, filthy as he flexed his gleaming muscles against the onslaught. On his stomach now the once proud, powerful muscle-god crawled sobbing through the dirt, in abject humiliation and defeat, like a beaten animal, trying frantically to escape his torturer towering over him.

"STOP!" Hassan dimly heard the shout but Randy was oblivious. He raised his arm to strike again but felt his wrist grabbed and immobilized. He whirled round to see Mark holding him, and Bob behind him. "Stop," Bob pleaded again. "Not like this, man ... you've got it wrong. It's not what you think."

After Pablo had woken up and was having dinner in the kitchen he had opened up to Bob, telling him the whole story (with Darius listening wide-eyed.) He confessed that most of the blame belonged with himself. He had seduced Hassan, who had done all he could to make him abandon his idea of the Marines. Hassan had been cold to him, trying to turn him off him.

"And it worked," Bob now said to Randy. "Pablo's home and regrets everything he did."

"And what the fuck are your two doing here?" Randy growled through rasping breaths.

"Mark called Hassan and told him Pablo was home. Hassan insisted on coming to see you to try and make things right again ... to explain, apologize. When Mark came home and told me that, I knew you would go apeshit and I was right. Thank God we came here in time. You could have killed him."

"I should have," Randy grunted, starting to calm down and beginning to see things in a more rational light. "I've gotta see the kid, see what he has to say for himself. Better take care of him," throwing the rope down across the naked, bruised chest of the man lying in the dust. "I'm not finished with him yet." And he strode off the site.

Bob and Mark half carried Hassan to the truck and drove him to Zack's house. Zack helped them get Hassan into the shower and then into the guest room bed. Mark checked him over and was relieved that there were no broken bones ... just welts and bruises. The twins were assigned to keep watch over him and bring him whatever he wanted in the way of food, drink.

When Bob finally reached his own house he found Randy nursing a beer at the kitchen table, staring morosely into the distance. Bob sat down facing him. "Look, Randy," he said, "it's I who should apologize. It's my fault `cause I'm the one who agreed that Hassan should take Pablo down to Pendleton. That was bad advice."

"Will you shut the fuck up?" Randy glared at him. "I'm sick to death of everyone trying to take responsibility, including you, asshole." When he saw Bob flinch Randy sighed and grabbed his hand. "Oh, Jesus, I'm sorry, man. Not you ... I shouldn't be attacking you of all people. It's thanks to you that the boy got home at all, and you've been a real friend to him. But I'm not sure how I feel about the boy, whether I can ever forgive him. I gotta go see him, sort things out." He touched Bob's face. "Buddy, I hope we're still OK though all this, you and me.

Bob smiled. "We're OK through anything, Randy. Always will be. Listen, why don't I spend the night with the twins in their house? They need some reassurance after all this. Pablo's already had dinner and is keeping to his room but I can tell him to report to you if you like and you'll have privacy to say whatever you want ... to do whatever you want."

Randy stared deep into Bob's eyes. "God, man, what would I do without you?"

Bob smiled. "Well, you'll never have to find that out, will you, buddy? I guarantee."

After having a bite to eat Randy wearily climbed the stairs to his room. Pablo was already there, standing ramrod straight with his hands clasped behind his back, staring straight ahead. Even motionless and silent his fear and trepidation were palpable. In fact he was terrified, knowing this would be a pivotal moment in his life, most likely a devastating one.

But Randy ignored him. He pulled off his work clothes, ripped and filthy from the fight, and headed straight for the shower. It seemed like an eternity to Pablo, but eventually Randy returned, drying himself off. He threw the towel over a chair, pulled a clean white tank top from a drawer and pulled it on. He threw himself onto the bed, on his back, his hands clasped behind his head. And now, at last, he looked at his boy standing against the wall facing him.

Pablo wilted under the piercing gaze and his instinct was to run from the room and out of his master's life. But the sight of this glorious muscle god, his master, wearing nothing but a white tank stretched over his chest, stiffened his resolve ... and, incredibly, his cock too, despite all his fear and apprehension. So he stifled his fears and stood his ground.

There was a long silence before Randy spoke in a steely voice resonant with barely controlled anger. "OK. Everyone's trying to claim responsibility for all this bullshit. Let's hear your side of the story, boy ... all of it."

Pablo stood at attention and took a deep breath. "Sir, they are wrong to take the blame. Everything was my fault ... all of it. See, I lost my mind over Hassan. He was so beautiful I was infatuated ... fell in lust with him. I didn't care about the Marines ... I wasn't thinking straight. I just wanted to be with him. That's why I asked him to take me to Pendleton. See, I was determined to go for what I wanted and get it, just as you taught me, sir."

Randy stiffened. "So this is all my fault!"

"No, sir. I didn't mean that. Anyway, Hassan showed me all over the camp as he promised, the good and the bad of it, but it was against the rules for me to stay the night there so he rented a motel room in Oceanside. And ..." his voice faltered, but he cleared his throat and continued, "... and that's where I seduced him, sir."

"Did he fuck you?"

Startled, Pablo blinked hard, then answered evenly. "Yes, sir. Twice, sir."

"Son-of-a-bitch," Randy growled.

"But it wasn't his fault, sir. Like I said I seduced him. When he was in the shower I went in after him and asked him to soap my back and ... and my ass ..."

"Which he ended up fucking."

"Yes, sir. But after he shot his load in me I think he was angry and he went and dried off. But I wanted more and when I left the shower I paraded around and flaunted my body like ... like a low-rent hustler. I know how to turn men on, sir, as you ... as you know, sir ... and Hassan couldn't resist and fucked me again. After that I told him ..." his voice faltered again and became weak "... I told him I wanted to stay with him ... wanted to be his boy."

He saw Randy clench his fists and close his eyes in pain. "But that made Hassan really angry, sir, and he took me straight out to a bar where there were lots of Marines ... real grungy ones ... and we went back to the motel with one of them."

"The bastard," Randy snarled.

"No, sir. I realize now what Hassan was doing. He was trying to turn me off the Marines and off him ... and it worked sir ... a bit too well. Hassan went out for ten minutes to get beer and the other guy, he ... he tried to rape me. But I thought of you, sir, of everything you taught me, and I fought back and ran out of the motel. But I had left my wallet and cell-phone there so I slept on the beach. In the morning I found $40 that Bob had stuffed into my pocket the day before, so I was able to buy a train ticket. And Bob picked me up at Union Station and ...

Suddenly the flood of words dried up, his head fell forward and his body drooped from the exhaustion of his confession. When he looked up he couldn't understand the mix of conflicting emotions that he saw in his master's eyes. "Sir," Pablo said softly. "I know I have to be punished for everything I did. I want you to tie me up and whip me, sir."

Randy's eyes blazed. "So now you get to dictate what you want! You betray me, humiliate me, tell another man you want to be his boy and now you get to choose your punishment! You're still out of your fucking mind, boy. Still, you're right about one thing ... you will be punished, but not the way you think. I won't tie you up, won't whip you. You'd enjoy that. No, I'm not gonna lay a finger on you. I'm gonna stay right here on the bed."

There was a long silence as Randy considered his next move. "You know me ... I always try to make the punishment fit the crime. It's what I did with that shithead Hassan when I beat him to a fucking pulp this afternoon, but for you it'll be different. You know how a good fight always makes me hot and horny and normally I'd come home and fuck your ass. But that ain't gonna happen this time."

"No, sir," Pablo whispered.

"But I still have to get my rocks off somehow. Now, you said you behaved like a cheap hustler in that motel. Well show me, boy. Show me what you did. You gave Hassan a performance, and now it's my turn. Turn me on the same as you did him."

Pablo blinked in confusion. But then he understood. He understood that his punishment would be almost unbearable. He was still filled with shame about what he had done and it had been hard to confess to Randy. But now he had to show him? He had to become a cheap rent-boy again ... in front of the man who was his hero. But he knew he had to do it.

Slowly he pulled his T-shirt over his head, held it for a moment, then tossed it across the room in the exaggerated moves of a stripper. He kicked off his sneakers, unbuttoned his shorts and let them drop. He bent down, picked them up and tossed them across the room as he had his shirt. Then he started to walk around the room naked.

He picked up the towel Randy had thrown on the chair and wrapped it round his waist. He walked over to the bathroom door, then turned as if he was coming from the shower, as he had with Hassan. He turned his back, then slowly, very slowly, lowered the towel down from his waist, pulled it from side to side over the mounds of his ass, then suddenly let it drop to the floor. He heard Randy gasp as he gazed on the perfect white globes.

Pablo ran his hands seductively over his own ass, then turned to face Randy. He was blushing scarlet with shame and humiliation. He saw Randy stroking his rigid cock and his mind flashed on all the times he had felt it inside him. But not now. His master was going to beat off just looking at him.

"Come on, you little hustler. That all you got? What, you want music or something?"

Pablo's humiliation was complete as he ran his hands over his chest, down over the ridges of his stomach, down over his hard cock, and then he squeezed his thighs and flared his lats. After that he brought his fingers to his mouth, licked them and lowered them to his nipples, stroking them lightly, moaning as he threw his head back in ecstasy.

By this time Randy was close. The boy was stunningly beautiful, and he was right ... he did know exactly how to turn a man on. "Touch your cock, boy," he said quietly. "Let me see you jack off ... just don't shoot before I do. Come on, boy, imagine this huge prick of mine sliding inside you. Imagine it pounding that sweet ass."

Pablo pinched his nipple with one hand and beat his meat with the other. He was building to a frenzy as he gazed at his master and imagined getting his ass fucked by him. He was longing to cum but he held back as ordered.

He watched spellbound as Randy's gorgeous body flexed as he pounded his meat harder and harder. He saw the body shudder and heard the gasp as the muscle-god blasted a long ribbon of white juice over his own chest and face. An instant later Pablo's body went stiff and his cock exploded with a river of cum that splashed on the floor in front of him.

Even after the exhilaration of orgasm Pablo still felt cheap and degraded at the humiliating show he had put on. But there was worse to come ... his punishment was not over.

Randy growled, "OK, boy, like any cheap hustler you can leave now that I've got my rocks off. Isn't that what you guys do?" He saw the stab of pain in his boy's eyes. "But if you decide to stay you have to stay right there. You stand by the wall facing me, hands behind your back. You don't move until you're too tired to stand, and then you can sleep on the floor."

Without another word Randy snapped off the light, turned on his side and slept.

Pablo stood motionless, his eyes fixed on his master as he slept. This was his penance, and he welcomed it. This was his chance to purge the shame and guilt he felt, to show the man he worshipped that he was still loyal, still his boy. And so he stood as the minutes stretched into hours.

Randy slept soundly for a long time, but finally began to toss and turn in bed. Sweating, he pulled off the cum-soaked tank and, and looked at the clock ... 2am. Then his eyes opened in astonishment. The boy had not left the room, had not curled up on the floor. He was still standing in exactly the same position facing him, staring at him.

Randy was swept by a wave of admiration and love for the boy. God, he was a tough young kid ... still on his feet. Disgraced, humiliated, he refused to give up, determined to salvage some shreds of dignity, to prove himself. This was truly his boy ... his beautiful, brave, resilient boy. Randy melted and opened his arms. "Come here, kiddo."

With the whimper of a lost animal that has just found its parent Pablo stumbled forward and lowered himself beside the body of his master, letting himself be folded in his arms. Randy cradled him in silence for a long time, then pushed back and smiled at him.

"You sure know how to turn a guy on, kid. But there's one thing you never told me ... how you fought off that goon who tried to rape you."

Pablo came alive and his eyes shone. "Well, sir, it was like this. He was real big and heavy so I pretended to go along with it for a minute. Just as he was about to push inside me I slammed the soles of my feet against his chest and pushed him away. But he bounced back and stood over me again, and I remembered what you had taught me, sir."

"The balls!"

"That's right, sir. I brought my leg up and crashed my foot into his balls. As he fell to his knees I used my signature move, sir, my double-forearm smash, on his neck and back."

"Good work, kid. Did that finish him?"

"Not quite, sir, he was tough. So I kicked him over and stomped on his stomach, then just to make sure I kicked his balls again. I grabbed my shorts and high-tailed it out of there."

By this time Randy was laughing and squeezed the young body tightly against him. "That's my boy," he said. "A chip off the old block. I'm proud of you, kiddo ... for that part anyway. As for the rest ... well, it's over. You know how I am ... it's in the past, and that's that."

"And I'm still your boy, sir?"

"Damn right you are, and I'll give you a chance to prove it. See, I'm not finished with Hassan yet, and you're gonna help me show him who's top man around here once and for all."

Pablo tried to think about that, but within minutes he was sound asleep in Randy's arms.

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" ... Part 109.