A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 136 By Rob Williams
IN THIS CHAPTER:
Alone on the beach Mark and Hassan re-live their harrowing time as enemy soldiers. Defeated by Mark, Hassan yells, "You've beaten him, man ... come on soldier, finish him off." But then Hassan subdues Mark, whose naked body is helplessly bound, facing his captor. Later, Jamie misbehaves and is punished. "Mark towered over the muscular young surfer who was tied to his own surfboard, struggling, awaiting his fate."
A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - CHAPTER 136 – "Love's a Bitch"
Zack put it best: "Well, I guess that's the end of this little Steve and Lloyd episode. Can't say I'm sorry, either." With Randy taking the lead, as usual, the matter had been well and truly put to rest and they could all move on. But the rhythm of the house had been knocked off balance and there was a general feeling all round that it would be good to get out of town for a few days rest and recuperation.
As it happened, a long weekend was coming up and Randy said all the construction sites would close for four days. So Bob and Randy decided to take Pablo and the twins up to their secret spot by the lake in the Angeles National forest. Zack and Darius were staying behind, looking forward to spending the four days together, just the two of them in the house where they could indulge to the full their sexual appetites and Darius's limitless fantasies. Mark, Jamie, Nate and Hassan were to spend the long weekend at the beach shack in the Guadalupe Dunes.
Randy's truck left first, loaded with two men, three boys and Pablo's dog ... "a truckload of trouble" Zack had laughingly called it. Jamie and Nate finished loading Mark's truck, most noticeably with their two big surfboards propped forward against the cab. Finally they too pulled away, leaving Zack and Darius to walk happily back through the gate into the serenity of a waiting house.
Mark drove the two boys up to Mulholland where Hassan was waiting for them, looking real hot in a faded gray tank-top and old, shabby military fatigue pants. With a huge smile he leapt into the seat beside Mark and leaned behind him to ruffle the hair of Jamie and Nate in the back seat. He turned to face forward again and threw his arm across Mark's shoulders. Jamie and Nate grinned at each other, then looked down at the bulges that they both had growing in their shorts and burst out laughing.
"You gonna share the joke with us, guys?" Mark said.
"Oh, it's nothing, sir," Jamie said. "Just something that came up all of a sudden," and they smothered more laughs.
"So," Hassan said to the boys, "Mark tells me you guys have brought a tent because you two want to sleep in the dunes, leaving the shack to Mark and me ... that right?"
"Well," Mark cut in, "the sleeping arrangements are pretty flexible. In fact everything's pretty flexible. We'll just play it by ear ... see what develops, eh Jamie?"
"Right, sir!" Jamie reached over and grabbed Nate's rigid cock bulging in his shorts. "There's no knowing what'll come up." And once again the boys collapsed with laughter.
Their giddy mood continued as the truck sped up the Pacific Coast Highway, but the banter eventually died down and in the ensuing comfortable silence the men were left to their own private thoughts.
Mark had been troubled seeing his friend Hassan get involved in the Lloyd mess, so he was relieved now and excited at the thought of spending time with the soldier who shared a long history with him. After the excruciating wartime torture and interrogation of long ago, they had come to love and respect each other deeply. They were both flawlessly beautiful men and as Mark felt Hassan's arm resting on his shoulder he was warmed by the familiar lust that made his cock stiff just being next to him. Each man, out of the corner of his eye, saw the satisfied smile on the other's face.
Hassan had recently moved up to Los Angeles and was happy to be living a very private life in his small guesthouse tucked away in the Hollywood Hills. His exotic beauty set him apart from other men, but he felt a kindred spirit with the magnificent cop who matched him in beauty and charisma, the man who sat shoulder to shoulder with him now. Hassan had also come to love and lust for Mark's boy Jamie ... with Mark's genial approval.
Jamie himself was still fantasizing about his recent visit to Hassan's house where he had watched the near-naked soldier working out, a sight so pornographically beautiful that the boy had creamed his shorts. Hassan had longed to fuck Jamie as he had in the past, but restrained himself until he got Mark's permission. Jamie had understood, saying, "But we have four days coming up in the dunes ... and Mark will be with us. So maybe then ...?" Jamie was beginning to match even Darius as fantasies swirled through his mind.
As for Nate, he still couldn't believe his luck being in the company of these glorious men. Having left a solitary life in Australia he was now thrilled to be, as he put it, "Jamie's best mate" and was looked on with affection by all the other guys in the house, especially by Mark who had long wanted Jamie to have a close friend his own age. Nate didn't know Hassan well yet, but he was in awe of the spectacular Marine and even dared to hope that this trip he would get to know him better. He turned to Jamie and they smiled that conspiratorial smile of "best mates."
So those were the reflections and daydreams that happily occupied the minds of all four occupants of the truck as it barreled north on the freeway to the secluded spot in the dunes that had already been the scene of so many erotic adventures. It had been on just such a trip as this that Mark had saved Jamie's life using the kiss of life, where they had fallen in love and where Jamie had become Mark's boy. Maybe, Mark thought to himself, the place would work its magic once again.
"Well, it sure ain't Manly Beach," said a crestfallen Jamie, referring to the Sydney beach where he and Nate had found such `epic' waves for surfing. They had just arrived at the dunes and he and Nate were looking out at the placid waves rolling gently ashore on the long, deserted beach.
"Oh, I dunno, mate," Nate said, "you can get a pretty fair ride on waves like that."
"OK, let's go," said Jamie, always the leader of the two.
"Not so fast, guys," said Mark. "First we gotta get all the gear from the truck and stow it in the shack. You can pitch your tent later. In a flurry of activity the boys hauled everything off the truck and threw it haphazardly into the shack. Nate looked shyly at Mark and said, "I'll tidy everything up when we come back, sir, if that's OK."
Mark melted, seeing Nate's wide-eyed eager face. "I guess there'll be no living with you two until you've surfed yourselves crazy. OK, but be careful. Don't go out too far and whatever you do, stay together." The boys grabbed their boards and were soon paddling out into the surf, with Jamie in the lead.
Hassan grinned. "He's your boy alright, always taking the lead. Looks like Nate would follow him anywhere."
"Yeah," Mark said. "Jamie's the leader, that's for sure, and Nate worships him. "Worries me a bit sometimes, though. Jamie loves Nate and is not above showing off to him, proving what an impulsive young stud he can be. Still, if I'm honest, I guess that's one of the things that turns me on about him. But enough about the boys ... what about us? Feel like a run? Zack asked me to check on his shack while we were here ... air it out for him. It's a couple of miles down the beach. You game?"
Hassan laughed. "You're just like your boy ... always the leader ... and with a buddy who worships you. Yeah, sure. Running along the beach shoulder to shoulder with you will be a privilege ... not to mention a massive turn-on. Let's go, stud."
The seemingly endless beach was completely deserted into the far distance where it faded into a mist of spray. Pity there was no one to see it, because any stray observer would have been treated to a spectacular sight ... two magnificent men in swim trunks running through the shallow surf, their powerful legs pounding the sand step for step. They were contrasting studies in male beauty ... the one a blond Greek god, the other a darkly exotic Arabic/Asian. But they matched each other in height, their square-cut sculpted features, and the perfect musculature of their stunning physiques, gleaming to spray-splashed perfection in the hot sun.
Both men were aware of their beauty and they could be vain when they needed to impress. This was one of those times, acutely aware as each one was of the desire he roused in the man next to him, matching his powerful strides... with a feeling of sexual challenge in the air. Occasionally they glanced at each other and smiled, but they remained silent, glorying in their muscular strength, their shared masculinity, and the mounting lust that could not be ignored much longer.
Their bodies were perfectly in sync ... and so were their minds. They had both drifted back in time, remembering their first meeting years ago in a desert prison where, as enemy soldiers, they had bound and tortured each other in turn ... leading to mutual lust and passion. Instinctively they slowed down to a walk and continued in pensive silence for a while, the waves washing over their feet. Then, reading Mark's thoughts, Hassan said quietly, "Do you remember it?"
"All of it," Mark murmured. "Every last detail." He recalled vividly how Hassan had subjected him to military interrogation. "As if it were yesterday I can see myself chained to the bars of that cell as you tortured my body. I remember looking at you and, even as I struggled to get free, I felt my cock get hard. Man, you were so beautiful I couldn't help it ... and then you forced my endless orgasm, blasting streams of cum across the cell as you punished my body and rammed your dick in my ass. Yeah, I still beat off thinking about it."
"But you won, Mark. You beat me in the end. Even after suffering all that you turned the tables, chained me and tortured me. And do you remember how you finished it? ... pinning me to the floor of the cell on my back, fucking my ass like a jackhammer and, at the moment we both busted our loads, squeezing your hands round my throat until I passed out. And that is the very moment, to this day, when I cum as I masturbate thinking about it."
There was silence again and the men were acutely aware of their rigid cocks in their shorts as they splashed through the shallow water. Mark suddenly jerked up his head and said, "But hey buddy, that was yesterday, this is today. The sun is shining and we are alone on this endless beach, two gorgeous men breathing the same air, lusting for each other. And the surf awaits!"
Quickly he dropped his shorts, ran a few steps into the water and dived under a breaking wave. Hassan was quick to follow and soon the two naked men were swimming side by side with long powerful strokes. Their shoulders touched and Mark Laughed, "Hey, man, you trying to muscle me out of your way? Fat chance, pal!"
He threw himself onto Hassan and immediately they were wrestling in the waves. Equally matched, their gleaming bodies struggled for supremacy. In a bear hug they sank beneath the surface and their mouths came together in a ravenous, endless underwater embrace. At last they broke the surface, gasping for air, but still holding each other at arm's length. Through the spray they gazed at each other with a mounting desire intensified by their physical contest, muscle grinding against muscle.
To break the stalemate Hassan raised his knee, pressed his foot against Mark's chest and pushed, sending Mark flying backwards into the water. "Come get me, man," he yelled as he struck out toward the shore. Mark recovered his balance and it was a race to the beach. Hassan was first to touch bottom and he broke into a run, knee deep in water. But Mark was right behind and launched himself forward, bringing Hassan down with a flying football tackle.
They rolled over and over in the shallow water, waves breaking over them. And then suddenly the contest was over. Mark was on top of Hassan, pinning his hands to the sand above his head. Gasping for air they gazed at each other wild-eyed, both of them knowing what was happening. "Is this what you meant, Hassan? Is this the way you remember it? Is this the way I finished you off in that cell? Like this...?"
He threw Hassan's legs over his shoulders and with one quick, ferocious moved plunged his cock deep inside the Marine's ass. The soldier screamed in pain and ecstasy as he looked up at the glorious blond muscle-god, fucking him as he had so long ago on the floor of the prison cell. The memory flooded back. It had been just like this, except that now he was lying on wet sand, shallow waves breaking over them as Mark impaled his ass on his iron-hard piston.
Hassan went wild and he became once more the beaten soldier. "Come on, man, fuck that ass, man. You've beaten him ... you are the best ... come on soldier, finish him off." In a pitch of excitement Mark felt his cock ready to explode in the hot ass. He was back in that dank room, looking down at the beautiful man who had chained and tortured him. He was fucking his way to freedom ... just one more thing to do ...
Hassan begged, "Do it, man. Do it, please. Finish me off, Mark. You know how ..."
Mark pulled his hands away from Hassan's wrists and pressed them instead round his throat. That is how he had overpowered Hassan all those years ago and broken free. His military training had taught him how to cut off a man's oxygen and make him momentarily lose consciousness, immobilizing him for enough seconds to overcome him. And now once again Mark pressed hard on the pressure points as the men locked eyes.
Instinctively Hassan gripped Mark's wrists and pulled at them frantically in a desperate bid to escape, just as he had years ago in that climactic scene. He looked up wildly at the glorious Nordic face, the face of his conqueror, the face of the man he loved. His cock was pulsing and as the vision of the face grew blurred he knew this was the end. He felt Mark pounding his ass, felt his hands tighten round his throat, and he screamed, "I love you, man," as his cock exploded in a blast of hot semen ... and everything went dark.
As the soldier's hands fell away limply from his opponent's wrists Mark gazed in awe at the dark, rugged face slumped to one side, and his own cock erupted inside the broken man's ass. It was a spectacular orgasm, a tribute to the harrowing memory of that long-ago time when he had finally vanquished his torturer in a tumultuous act of sexual supremacy.
Suddenly a wave splashed over them and jerked Mark back into the present. He saw his friend lying still and he gently pulled him to shallower water, knelt beside him and cradled his head in his arm. Hassan became aware of a deep voice calling his name. He opened his eyes, his blurred vision cleared and he found himself gazing up at the same beautiful face that had made him shoot his load just as he passed out.
Mark's anxious voice said, "You OK, man? You feeling OK?"
Hassan smiled. "Never better, Mark. Jesus, you were sensational ... just as you were that first night. That was the moment I always remember, the moment that has given me many orgasms since ... and that was the moment all that time ago when I fell in love with you Mark. And of course ...I still am."
For a long time they sat on the beach, shoulder to shoulder, staring silently out to sea, knowing that many miles away over the distant horizon was the place in the desert where they had experienced their first tortured sexual encounter, part of which they had just re-enacted.
After a while they turned to smile at each other and Mark said, "Life goes on, buddy. Memories remain ... but life goes on. Come on, let's go check out Zack's shack ... make sure it hasn't been washed away."
It hadn't. There it stood in the dunes, smaller than Mark's, waiting in silent obedience for someone to bring it to life. As they pushed the door open Mark said, "Man, this has been the scene of some spectacular action. You know, this is where Bob met Zack and, boy, did that set the fur flying when he told Randy." He looked around at the rumpled bed with clothes strewn around, just as Zack had left it when he was last here. "Shit, the place just oozes Zack's sexuality."
"Yeah," Hassan said, "I know all about that. See that old door-frame standing up in the sand out there? I told you about the time I came across Zack tied to it being whipped by a couple of thugs. I got rid of them real fast, but the black stud looked so incredibly hot in bondage that I had to whip him. But you know what? As I gazed at Zack my mind went back to your wartime capture, and the man I saw hanging before me, in chains, was you Mark, a Greek god writhing in pain as I whipped you."
"Is this what you used on Zack?"
Hassan whirled round to see Mark holding Zack's black leather whip he had picked up from the floor. "I will never forget that time in the desert," Mark said quietly. "Watching you, that stunning face, that body flexing as it wielded the whip. You were so beautiful, man, that the pain vanished, became so erotic that I blasted a load of cum across the room. Like I said, I still jack off thinking about that."
There was a heavy silence as they gazed at each other. Without a word Mark held out his hand and offered the whip to Hassan. It was his turn to re-live past memories. Silently they walked out of the shack and dropped their shorts, two naked men. The ropes were still there lying in the sand and Mark allowed himself to be tied to the doorframe, wrists tied high up at the corners, his magnificent body spread-eagled, waiting.
"Oh, man," Hassan breathed. "You look even more spectacular than you did then. Here it comes, Mark. Remember!" He raised his arm and brought the whip down across the slabs of the captive's chest. He smiled as he watched the body jerk backward, muscles flexing as the arms pulled helplessly against the ropes. He looked with satisfaction at the bound man's rock hard cock bouncing to attention, and felt his own cock pulse at the extraordinary sight of the tortured solider, just as he had been that night.
It was merely a symbolic flogging, not hard enough to cause real pain but enough to release memories. Hassan just wanted to see the whip falling across the muscle-god's chest as it had that first time. The sound of the whip, the writhing body, and the intense gaze as they held each other's eyes, all launched them back in time. It was one soldier torturing another, and Hassan used the same words as he had then. "You are a beautiful man, soldier. I love torturing your body, watching it writhe, seeing your handsome face wince with pain. I too am a beautiful man, I know that, and I can make you do whatever I command."
He looked down and aimed the whip at Mark's long hard rod, wrapping the leather thongs round it. Mark gasped and knew that would finish him. Hassan's gaze was penetrating. "Yes, Mark, I can do it. I can do to you whatever I choose. Now you will obey me, soldier. Now!"
Suddenly his arms flexed and he increased the strength of the blows. Now it hurt and Mark's eyes widened in pain and fury. "Fuck you, man," he screamed. "Aaaah!" As the punishment intensified he saw himself chained in the cell, saw his body writhing under the lash, saw his handsome, exotic captor as his muscles flexed and gleamed with sweat.
He couldn't take any more. It was not so much the pain, as the sight of this magnificent man that made him scream, "OK, man, you win. I give up ... I submit!" His cock shuddered and shot a long ribbon of cum across the sand, splashing onto Hassan's smooth olive skin.
"Yes, Mark," Hassan shouted. "That is what I see in my dreams. That is what makes me cum," ... and he in turn blasted a flood of white liquid onto the man writhing before him. They stood gazing at each other, their cocks shooting stream after stream of semen across the space between them ... just as they had that fateful day, a day they would never forget ... a day they had needed to re-live on this wild, deserted beach.
They lay for a long time, their bodies entwined together on the hot sand. Hassan whispered, "Thank you, Mark. Thank you for taking me back to that place."
"Yeah," Mark said. "That was a tough time, but hey, look where it brought us ... here together, on the beach, with those two gorgeous young surfers back there waiting for us. Come on, man. Let's go find them. And this time I promise I won't highjack you and plough your ass."
Hassan grinned. "Oh, highjacking's good. You'll never hear me object."
They got to their feet, closed up the shack, pulled on their swim trunks and ran back along the empty beach without stopping ... no pause, no highjacking, just an eagerness to put the past behind them and rejoin the boys.
But the boys were not there.
Mark looked out to sea and there was no one, no Jamie or Nate, no other surfers. Seeing the alarm on Mark's face Hassan said, "Don't worry, Mark, they probably got tired of surfing and wandered into the village for a bite to eat."
"Then where are their surfboards?" Mark retorted, panic rising in his voice. "No, they're still out there somewhere ... something must have happened. I've gotta get out there, find them. Stay here, buddy, in case they show up. I've gotta find them." He took off, racing to the water and launching himself headlong into the waves.
Mark, the consummate police officer, was usually calm and steady as a rock. Not this time ... this was about Jamie, his boy, the boy he loved and protected. He tried desperately to steady his nerves and control the panic, but his mind was whirling with thoughts of the past. The rip-tides here could be brutal and he thought of the time all the boys had been adrift in the rowboat. Thank god he had been there to rescue them.
He felt a stab of fear as he remembered the day that Jamie had been caught in the rip-tide and almost drowned, saved only by the kiss of life Mark had administered just in time. That life-saving kiss, the moment they had gazed at each other and fallen in love. "Jamie!" he yelled breathlessly as he felt panic overtaking him. "Jamie, where are you?"
But he realized that shouting was useless above the sound of the waves and would only sap his strength. So he quickened his powerful strokes, frantically searching over the waves hoping desperately to catch a glimpse of the boys, or at least a loose surfboard. "I can't lose him," he thought. "I can't ... I love the boy ... he's my boy!" He didn't realize that the salt water on his face was not only the sea, it was tears of anguish and dread.
It was becoming hopeless as he scanned the empty ocean with no sign of anything but the swell of water. He found himself swimming toward the end of the beach, in the opposite direction from where he had run earlier. There was a long sandspit separating this beach from the next, its long arm jutting out into the ocean. Nearing exhaustion he knew instinctively that climbing up onto the sand here would give him a better view of the sea ... a better chance of finding them, he thought, though the prospects of this were dimming.
Panting heavily he hauled himself from the water and stumbled up onto the sandspit. His eyes were blurred with seawater and tears, but as his vision cleared he anxiously scanned the endless expanse of ocean. Nothing. "Please," he begged to no-one in particular. "Let me find them ... I need Jamie." Frantically he turned round to scan the other beach on the far side of the sandspit ... and his heart leapt. The place was deserted, except for what looked like two figures bobbing in the swell in the far distance. He squinted, strained his eyes, and then, as the swell rose behind them, he saw them jump up on their surfboards and ride the wave.
Mark was not a religious man but he said a silent prayer of thanks anyway. It had to be them ... but why were they all the way over there? Had they been swept this far? He began to leap up and down, waving his arms wildly, screaming Jamie's name, even though he knew he couldn't be heard from this distance. But he was a big man and his frantic efforts to attract their attention finally paid off. He saw them drop flat onto their boards and they seemed to be paddling back in his direction.
As Mark watched the boys come closer he could see Jamie's gleaming shoulders as he paddled strongly, he could see his face ... that face that he had kissed so many times as he made love to him, the face of the boy he adored. His mind was racing with conflicting emotions. As his panic abated it was replaced with relief, then bewilderment as to how they had gone so far ... and why? It couldn't have been a mistake ... it was deliberate. And now his other thoughts were smothered by something even more acute ... a rising anger.
As the boys paddled round the headland and headed to shore Mark dived back into the surf and swam strongly to the beach. Exhausted in body and mind he staggered out of the water and into Hassan's waiting arms. "Take it easy, man," Hassan said. "Deep breaths. It's OK, they're safe. Look, here they come."
Mark turned and watched the boys wade out of the water, their boards under their arms. The grins on their faces faded suddenly as they saw Mark's expression. It was one of ice-cold anger. Mark's relief at seeing his boy safe and sound was eclipsed by a fury born of fear. All the panic, foreboding and dread of the last half-hour now coalesced into rage that his boy could have been so thoughtless as to put himself in danger, and cause his master such grief.
And now his anger found full voice. "What the fuck did you think you were doing, boy? Do you know what you put me through, not knowing where you were, if you were even alive or dead? You stupid, fucking young idiot, just out for your own pleasure, not caring what it would do to the man who loves you? Didn't I tell you not to go out too far? What do you think Hassan and I felt when we got back and you had disappeared? Don't you remember the time you almost drowned out there and I had to bring you back to life? Shit, I'm beginning to wonder if it was worth it."
Mark checked himself as he suddenly realized he had gone too far. But far from being chastened, Jamie was spurred to anger by what he saw as the injustice of Mark's harsh words. Worse, he was being reprimanded in front of his young friend, Nate, the boy who respected him as a leader, the boy he showed off to as a proud, confident young stud. Jamie could not let Mark's reproach go unchallenged.
"Sir, that's not fair," he said defiantly. "I decided that the waves here were shit and that's why we went to the next beach where the surf was higher. It was my decision, not Nate's, in fact he objected, but I don't think I did anything wrong." Jamie's defiance was escalating as he became more passionate in his defense, his voice choking with indignation. "You have no right talking to me like that in front of my friend. I'm an adult ... I can make my own decisions ... I don't need your permission just because ... because you're some big tough cop." His eyes were brimming with tears. "Stop telling me what to do. You have no right ... you're not my dad!"
There was a shocked silence as his last bitter words hung in the air. Jamie was trembling but he had enough sense to realize he had gone too far. There was only one thing he could do. He turned and ran away, sobbing as he pounded over the sand and up into the dunes. Mark was stunned by Jamie's outburst and his instinct was to follow his boy. But as he was about take off he felt a hand grip his wrist and restrain him.
"Take it easy, man," Hassan said calmly. "Let him go, you'll only make it worse. Better wait a minute `til he cools off, then go and talk to him." Hassan was moved by the lost look of confusion and bewilderment in Mark's usually steady eyes. Mark made a stammering attempt to explain himself. "I was angry because I was scared, man ... scared of losing him. And now I've lost him. Do you think I've lost him, buddy?"
"Of course not," Hassan smiled. "You two ... never. Shit, if you'd lost him I'd snap him up in a heartbeat, but that ain't gonna happen. He's your boy and you're his master, and that's not gonna change. But there's no way he should have talked to you like that and you'll have to decide how you deal with that." He looked over at Nate, standing nearby in a state of shock. Hassan nodded in his direction and raised his eyebrows at Mark.
Mark took his cue and walked over to the boy. "Nate, I'm sorry about all this. I believe that none of this was your fault. Jamie said you objected to going so far out but I know how you look up to him and would follow him anywhere. Now while I go speak to Jamie I'm gonna leave you with Hassan. Why don't you fix him a drink and have something to eat with him?"
"OK if I tidy up the shack too and put away our gear, sir?" Nate said shyly.
"Hey, let me help you with that," said Hassan gently. "Don't worry, kid, I'll take care of you." As they walked toward the shack Hassan threw his arm round Nate's shoulder. Nate sighed with relief. After all, he had wanted to get to know Hassan better, hadn't he?
It didn't take long for Mark to find Jamie. Coming over the crest of one of the dunes he saw him in a hollow, sitting with his knees drawn up, his arms hugging them and his head buried in his arms. His hunched shoulders shook as he sobbed. Mark approached silently.
"Hey." Startled Jamie raised his tear-stained eyes and flinched away from him. Mark squatted by him but when he touched his shoulder the boy flinched again. He clearly was not about to talk, so Mark did.
"Look, kid, I think we both lost our cool back there. I was afraid I had lost you out in the ocean ... I was pretty frantic for a while... and when I found you my fear turned to anger. I guess I came on a bit strong. I was right to reprimand you but I shouldn't have done it in front of Nate ... I know how that must have humiliated you. Even so, you should never have spoken to me the way you did."
He paused, expecting some reaction, but Jamie didn't move so Mark continued. "What do you want from me, kid? Look, what you said back there about me not being your dad. Shit, boy, I'll adopt you if you want, like Randy did Pablo. Just tell me what you want."
Finally Jamie raised his head and his teary eyes looked directly into Mark's. "I want you to punish me, sir. I don't know why I said all those things. I didn't mean any of it. I thought I had ruined everything and you wouldn't want me anymore."
Mark's voice rose, "Jamie, for god's sake, I've told you a million times you're my boy and that's never gonna change no matter what."
"Thank you, sir. But I know I was wrong to go to the other beach ... I didn't think how scared you'd be that we'd drowned or something. And I know for sure I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. So I want you to punish me, sir, like they do in the house when someone screws up. Nate and Hassan heard me say all those crazy things, so I need to show them how stupid I've been. I need them to see you punish me, sir, to hurt me. And it has to be real."
"OK, Jamie. I understand how you feel."
"But one other thing, sir. Please don't punish Nate. It was all my idea and he said we shouldn't go. He tried to stop me but when I went anyway he followed me `cause you had said we should stay together. So don't punish him, sir. He's a real good guy."
"I know he is, Jamie, and so are you." In Mark's mind Jamie had just redeemed himself. But he knew he had to punish him. It was the only way.
Hassan and Nate were gazing down in awe. When Mark and Jamie had got back it was the sight of Jamie's big surfboard lying on the sand that gave Mark the idea. And now everything was ready.
It was an awesome sight. Jamie was lying naked on his back on the board, his arms stretched upward, his wrists tied with a rope and the rope looped over the big curved fin at the end of the board. There was a rope round his chest, so the young surfer was lashed to his own surfboard. His fine, muscular body was gleaming in the sun, his handsome face was streaked with sea-salt and sand and his tousled blond hair hung in a tangle over his forehead. The sight of the gorgeous young surfer tied to his surfboard gave all three men stiff erections in their shorts.
"Let me see you get free," Mark's deep voice growled. Jamie looked up at his wrists roped round the fin and pulled at them hopelessly. He tried to twist his body, his lean young muscles flexing and straining, but he was lashed tight to the board. He looked spectacular and Hassan murmured softly, "Holy shit, that's incredible."
Naked now, Mark stood astride Jamie and looked down at him. "You did the unforgivable thing, boy ... you insulted your master. When you became my boy I told you I would love you and protect you but that you had to obey me always. Now you have disobeyed ... disobeyed me! Look at me boy!" He held his arms out to the side and flexed his magnificent torso. "Do I look like the kind of guy who tolerates disobedience in a boy? You have insulted me in front of our friends and you have to be punished. I'm gonna hurt you, boy."
Mark dropped to his knees astride Jamie's chest. His blue-gray eyes penetrated Jamie's as he touched the boy's bound chest. Suddenly his fingers gripped Jamie's nipples tight and he twisted them hard. "Aaagh!" Jamie's scream echoed along the beach and through the dunes, drowning out the crash of the waves and the cry of the whirling seagulls.
Again Mark wrench his nipples with savage strength and again Jamie screamed, his head thrashing from side to side, tears spurting from his eyes. Again and again Mark twisted the nipples brutally and Jamie's screams were agonized, so pitiful that Nate took a step forward until he felt Hassan's restraining hand on his shoulder. Nate looked up with tears in his eyes but Hassan shook his head at him. They were not to intervene. This was between Mark and his boy.
Mark was now applying steady pressure to the nipples and Jamie felt that his whole chest was on fire. The pain was excruciating and he looked up desperately at the master who had never hurt him like this. In his haze of pain he heard Mark's deep voice. "Now you know what it means to insult your master, boy. What do you have to say for yourself?"
Through his wracking sobs Jamie moaned, "I'm sorry, sir. I know I disobeyed you ... I never will again, sir. You are my master and I love you, sir. I worship you. Please forgive me, sir. Please ..." Tears poured down his face. "It hurts so bad, sir. Please stop hurting me."
Immediately it ended, as the fingers pulled away with one last burst of pain. Jamie gazed up at the beautiful Nordic face and gasped, "Thank you, sir. Thank you, sir."
"We're not finished yet, boy. First your chest, now you ass." Mark eased backward until he was kneeling on the board between Jamie's legs. He threw the legs high in the air and with one swift, brutal thrust impaled the young ass on his steel-like rod. Again Jamie screamed. He had been fucked countless time by Mark, but never like this. Mark never fucked him savagely, but this time was different.
The piston drove into the boy's ass without mercy. Sweat poured off Jamie's helpless, writhing body, straining against the ropes, as he endured the relentless pounding in his ass. "I'm gonna ream your ass, boy," Mark growled. "You will never, ever disobey me again, never talk back to me again, is that clear?"
"Yes, sir." Jamie groaned through the pain of the piston ramming into him. "I'm sorry, sir. Let me prove to you that I'm sorry. Fuck my ass sir ... fuck me hard ... hurt me sir ... I need you to hurt me sir ... just so you'll forgive me. I love you, sir. You're all my life." He screamed with pain and joy, "I love you, sir!"
Suddenly the pain stopped, the pounding stopped and all Jamie could feel was the cock sliding gently, slowly in and out of his ass. He looked up in surprise and saw Mark smiling down at him. It was over ... the anger the punishment, the pain ... all of it was over, replaced by the exquisite, gentle loving that they knew every day of their lives. "That's it, Jamie," Mark said. "I forgive you. I love you. I love you always, boy, every day ... always. Now you have to do one last thing for me, and you know what that is."
"Yes, sir," Jamie said, managing to smile through his tears. "Now, sir?" Mark nodded and Jamie felt his cock shudder as a long ribbon of cream shot from his cock and splashed on his master's chest. He felt Mark explode inside him, and that made him shoot some more, again and again as he watched the muscular body moving above him, slowing until it was still.
Mark pulled out, sprang to his feet and said, "Release him." Instantly Nate was on his knees pulling at the ropes until his friend was finally free. Hassan knelt on the other side and together they eased Jamie up on his feet and held his arms as he faced his glorious master. Mark walked forward, paused as he looked deep into his boy's eyes, then took him into his arms and held him tight.
Each man, master and boy, had tears streaming down his face.
Mark and Hassan were sitting on the small porch watching Jamie and Nate rough-housing in the surf. The experience had brought the boys even closer together and Jamie was even more of a hero in Nate's eyes. The men sipped beers in silence for a while, then Hassan looked at Mark and said, "Well done, man. That couldn't have been easy."
"It was agony for me, hurting my boy like that. I'm ashamed of myself."
"Nah, you had to do that and you know it. Jamie wanted to be punished and it had to be real. It was the only way he could ever begin to forgive himself for talking to you like he did. Submitting to you was the only way Jamie could prove to you, to himself and to us that he was devoted to you ... that he would do anything for you, suffer any pain."
There was silence again, then Mark said, "Jesus it's tough, loving someone as much as that."
"Yeah, tell me about it, Mark." Hassan looked directly into his friend's eyes. "I know all about that. Love's a bitch."
Mark put his arm round him. "Hassan, you know you and I will always love each other ... shit, after everything we've been through. We're two of a kind, man. And now that you're living in L.A., just up the hill ..." and he smiled seductively. "But listen, man, I'm gonna ask a favor of you. You know that the plan was for the boys to sleep in their tent tonight and we'd share the bed in the shack. Well I was wondering ... just for tonight if ..."
"... if you could sleep with Jamie in the tent and Nate will bunk in with me in the shack. Of course, man ... wouldn't have it any other way. You two have to make your peace. Hell, you'll probably be making love all night ... but tomorrow night, you're all mine OK?"
Hassan smiled and took a sip of beer. "Besides, that Nate's a hot young kid. Oh, he doesn't have the glamor that Jamie has, but he's real handsome in a quiet way ... hot young body too. He may be shy, but he's nobody's fool ... real direct and honest, with a great sense of humor. I like all that about him. Reminds me a bit of how I was at his age. Yeah, I like Nate a lot."
"Sounds like you won't mind sharing your bed with him, buddy."
"Oh, I won't mind," Hassan said, flashing a big smile. "I won't mind at all."
TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" ... Chapter 137
Hi 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. 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 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! Rob Williams