A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 301 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER: It's the turn of Bob, the handsome, muscular business executive, to make the young gymnast Thomas submit to a master. "I'm gonna show him that domination is not all about ripped T-shirts and getting gang-fucked in the dirt. There are more subtle ways to make a boy crawl." Soon the helpless jock is begging the shirtless businessman, "Do anything to me, sir. I'll take anything. Please, I need it so bad."

Chapter 301 – "THE JOCK & THE BUSINESSMAN"

Grady and Mario had had a major fight. The move into the Grady House was a major operation with more than its share of the usual frustrations and glitches associated with any move-in. Young Danny, the future chef-housekeeper was in the thick of things, with Mario having to make most of the decisions.

It all coincided with a couple of heavy weeks for Grady at the movie studio with long hours and a lot of tension, as the Tarzan movie was starting to run over budget and behind schedule – almost inevitable on a major production like this. Nerves were frayed on the set, tempers short and Grady was in the middle of all the pressures, the natural target for much venting of tension.

Danny was fearful that things would come to a head and inevitably they did. As with all couples when problems arise at home or at work, each partner was the closest target for the other's anger. Common sense and affection went out the window, replaced by irrational argument and recriminations. A major fight erupted, with ugly words exchanged that neither of them really meant. Mario stormed out and Grady more or less said `good riddance'.

A desperate Danny, still wearing his kitchen apron and chef's hat, rushed to Bob and Randy for help. While Bob, the diplomat, advised letting the guys sort things out for themselves, Randy, the man of action, had other ideas. He locked Grady and Mario in the basement gym with the order, "You're gonna cut the crap, make up, make love and fuck." Fueled by the boss's command, and their own passion for each other, that's exactly what they did.

While they reconciled in the locked gym Randy returned to Bob and Danny in the master suite and said matter-of-factly, "OK, that's settled. Don't worry, kiddo, everything's gonna be just fine, even better than before. You're gonna have a whole bunch of fun at that house." His swarthy face broke into his dazzling smile and he snatched the chef's hat off Danny's head. "Now I'm fucking starved, so what d'ya say, chef? Let's eat."

As Danny sat between the two men at the table eating breakfast he felt he was floating on air, feeling safer than he had ever been in his life before. Impulsively he leaned over and kissed Randy on the cheek. "Thank you, sir. You made things come right. You're my hero."

"Oh yeah? Well you're my hero too, kid. What you did coming here – good move. Now you better start planning the big house-warming celebration up there. That'll be a ton of work. You're gonna need help with that." He grinned at Bob. "And I suppose you have a plan."

"As a matter of fact I have been giving it some thought," Bob smiled. Danny can't run that big place and the kitchen all by himself. The other boys can help part-time of course but we mustn't forget Nate, if Adam's OK with that. Actually I was talking to Adam and I think he might like to get involved too. And then there's our new boy Thomas. I've been talking to him too."

"Shit, you get around, don't you, big guy?" They discussed the options with Danny for some time and then Randy's cell phone rang. Grady's voice was a mix of contrition and jubilation. "Hey, Randy. We're ready ... we've done everything you said. Could you have someone let us out ... please?"

Randy was enjoying himself a lot. He may have lacked the finesse of Bob but he knew bullshit when he saw it and had a knack of cutting right through the crap and showing everyone who was boss. He knew Bob and Danny were both looking at him with awed respect and he loved that. The man had no vanity but he did like to have his ego stroked by his lover and a kid he admired like Danny.

There was a knock on the door and Grady and Mario came in grinning sheepishly, like schoolkids who had just been let out of detention. "We did it, sir," Grady said. "Just like you said. And it worked, too."

"You don't say," Bob joked. "We'd never have guessed ... except that the glow round you two is bright enough to set the room on fire. But, er, you're actually talking to the wrong guys ..." He glanced at Danny who was beaming at his two employers, over the moon at seeing them together again.

Grady went up to him and stroked his face. "Danny ... we're both so sorry for hurting you. Can you ever forgive us?" I promise we'll make it up to you?"

With tears in his eyes Danny threw his arms round Grady and said, "All I wanted was to see you in love again, sir."

"Danny, you're a prince among men. If I'm the King of the Jungle you're my prince, our prince. We love you, Danny, and from now on, you're in charge. You slap us down when we screw up."

Danny pulled back. "About that, sir ... I'm sorry I spilled the beans and all. I know that confidentiality thing is real important but ..."

"Amico," Mario said, holding his hands. "You did us a huge favor by `spilling the beans' to Bob and Randy. You made everything come right ... er ... with a little help from Randy of course. Please say you'll still be our chef and take care of us. We'll give you a raise."

Danny blinked in surprise behind his glasses. "Oh, I don't want more money, sir. I love working for you ... I'd do it for nothing."

"Hey, kid, watch your mouth," Randy said. "Don't ever tell a guy who offers you money that you'll do something for free. He might take you up on it." Amid the ensuing laughter the door opened and the twins came in with more trays of food.

"Thanks, guys," Bob said, "I'm sure these two are hungry after their, er, workout in the gym. And please stay and join us. You can give us the benefit of your advice. It's time we put all this behind us and talk about the future."

Bob did most of the talking and they all listened (even Randy, though his mind was not so much on his words as on the desire to drag Bob back into bed).

"First, this fight you guys had. It may have been all bullshit as Randy said, but there were some underlying issues that you can't sweep under the carpet. They're bound to come up again. Grady's celebrity and upcoming stardom would put a strain on any relationship. He'll walk the red carpet, be photographed, wined and dined and Mario will be invisible."

"No, godammit, I don't want that," Grady protested. "I love Mario and want the world to know it."

"Grady, be realistic. This is Hollywood, and when this movie opens your face (and body) is gonna be known all over the world. There'll be paparazzi all the time, and believe me the tabloid press can be brutal. Do you really want to expose Mario to that? That's why Mark is setting up the tightest security money can buy at your house and you know Danny and the boys are the soul of discretion." He grinned. "Plus Randy can get rid of the press guys in an instant, just by swinging a plank of wood like he did that time at the construction site."

"Grady," Mario said gently. "Bob's right, and I'm happy to stay home, watch you on TV and be here for you when you come home. I'm separate from that world, and we'll create another whole world in our home – it'll be like parallel universes. I shy away from bright lights. All I want to do is love you, amico."

"Having said all that," Bob continued, "these issues, plus the huge income disparity, are bound to create problems and I want you to check in with Dr. Steve as soon as possible. He'll be able to diffuse whatever tension you're feeling ... he has his methods..." There were knowing smiles all round ... they were all familiar with Steve's `methods'."

"Now to practical considerations. Danny, Grady and Mario say you'll be in charge at the Grady House and we'll give Brandon and Eddie as much free time as possible to help you. How do you feel about that?"

"Sir, I can handle the kitchen and all the cooking, no problem. But the house is still a mess right now and I'm gonna need help with that. I know you spoke to Adam and Nate, sir, and Nate told me they'd love to help. Adam has a week's vacation coming up and ..."

"So why don't they spend it at the house?" That was Kyle with the sudden suggestion, followed by Kevin. "They could move in for the week, there are lots of spare rooms. It would be a change for them. Nate is great at getting a house in shape and Adam could help Grady set up the gym he wants there. Simple."

Bob smiled at them in surprise. "See, I knew you guys would come up with something original. You're not just two of the most beautiful chefs in creation. You've got brains too. I'll run it by Adam, see what he thinks. Good, it's all falling into shape.

"One last thing," Bob added. It's Saturday, and tonight is shaping up too. Randy, I know you and Zack have some kind of score to settle – payback after Pablo stopped Zack from fucking Thomas." He smiled with a hint of derision. "The big boys playing their macho games again."

"Careful asshole," Randy said, "or we'll include you and both of us will work you over. We'll probably spend the night together, although I don't like the thought of you sleeping alone."

"I won't be," Bob grinned. "Pablo will be sleeping with Darius so I was thinking of asking him to lend me his boy Thomas for the night. It's all well and good for the boy to get gangbanged by a bunch of sweaty construction workers but he has to learn that there are other, more subtle ways of serving a master. Brain power wins over muscle power any time as he'll discover."

"Damn, you guys are too much for me," Grady smiled, all these ideas you come up with. "I'm just a simple actor. Can't do anything without a script to follow and a mark to stand on."

"Huh," Mario huffed. "I can think of something you do all the time where your feet are not on a mark. They're not even on the ground."

"So what are we waiting for?" Grady laughed. "Hey, I was thinking. On our way up the hill why don't we drop in on Pete and Brandon and invite them to lunch? Kind of a celebration. That's if you can cope with lunch for five, Danny."

"You are kidding, sir," Danny grinned. "Twenty five and I might break a sweat."

Mario laughed, grabbed the chef's hat from where Randy had thrown it and jammed it on Danny's head. "OK, chef, back to work."

"Music to my ears," said Danny and walked out of the room between them.

In the ensuing silence Randy studied Bob and noted the self-satisfied look on his face. He sighed, "You know, man, when you take charge like that, giving orders and throwing your weight around, you really piss me off ... and give me a roaring hard-on. When you go off on these power trips someone has to knock you off your perch – and I guess it has to be me again – as usual. It's a fucking bore but someone has to do it. OK, get on the damn bed."

"Right away, sir," Bob smiled. He lay on the bed, pulled off his shorts and spread his arms and legs in spread-eagled surrender – waiting to be `knocked off his perch'. Randy gazed down at him, stroking his cock, and his eyes gleamed. "Damn, when you get bossy like that you look so fucking hot. But a man who challenges my authority ... he has to get fucked up the ass."

"Why do you think I do it ... sir?"

"Asshole!" Randy grinned. He spat on his cock, pushed Bob's legs in the air ... and drove his shaft in his lover's ass. It didn't take long. They were both so primed that they quickly got lost in each other's eyes and their orgasms were noisy and simultaneous. Seconds later Randy pulled out, stood up and wiped off his cock. He pulled on his jeans and said matter-of-factly, "That'll show you who's boss around here."

Then he caught Bob's eye ... and they erupted in laughter.

It was a Saturday of high spirits as word of Grady and Mario's fight and reconciliation – and of Randy's quick-fix remedy – spread on the grapevine. Pete and Brandon went for lunch at the Grady House and the men showed Pete around the house and grounds while Danny and Brandon huddled in the kitchen, cooking and gossiping and making plans for the future.

As promised, Bob had a word with Pablo and asked if he would let Thomas spend the night with him. "I need to show him that domination is not all about dirt, sweat, ripped T-shirts and getting gang-fucked. But, I have to go to a cocktail party this evening that my company is giving. Can't get out of those things as a lot of business is done at these social occasions. I'll be home about 9 o'clock and I want Thomas waiting for me at my door when I get back, if that's OK with you."

"He'll be there, sir," Pablo smiled. "I'm glad you'll be spending time with him, sir. I was wondering what to do next for him and I think a night with you will teach him a lot of things I can't. I appreciate your help, sir." He smiled his crooked grin. "Besides, a night with Darius will do me a lot of good too."

Saturday dinner was a leisurely, casual affair and the high-spirited mood of the day continued into the evening as they sat around drinking. But everyone noticed the glances that passed between Randy and Zack and it was obvious that something was simmering between the two construction bosses – best buddies and friendly rivals. It was unfinished business left over from the gang-fuck of the new boy Thomas, when Pablo had stopped Zack from fucking him. Randy would have to pay for his boy's unthinkable act – a boy giving orders to a master.

Eventually, at some silent signal they got up, stared into each other's eyes, and walked out through the gate and across the street to Zack's house. Everyone wanted to be there to witness what went on but they knew that this was a private affair between the two alpha males.

Bob was absent from the dinner. As he had explained to Pablo he was attending his company's social event, taking a prominent role as Senior Vice-President. Pablo had told Thomas that he was to report to the master suite and wait for Bob to come home. If Bob liked him enough he might ask him to stay the night. Thomas got an instant boner at the prospect, though he wasn't sure what to expect. Surely not the same down and dirty treatment he had received from Randy, Zack and the guys at the construction site.

Like everyone else, Thomas lusted for the handsome, muscular business executive and his excitement mounted as he waited at the door to the master suite as ordered. Pablo sometimes told him what to wear but, when the choice was left to him, he tended to model himself on the smart-casual Italian style of Mario, as he had done tonight in an effort to please Bob.

He was dressed similar to the way he used to dress as an ice skater – tight black pants that clung to his narrow hips and showed off his stunning ass to perfection, and a loose white cotton shirt tucked into his slim waist and unbuttoned halfway down so it hung open over his chest displaying the flawless body of a gymnast. Not the most macho of outfits but one he knew showed him off best – and one he thought Bob would find sexy.

Nine o'clock came and went and still no Bob. As the suspense mounted Thomas began to fantasize. His imagination flew to the group of rugged, sweaty construction workers who had made him grovel, gang-fucked him and then made him kneel while they blasted jism in his face. That rugged, macho image was a huge turn on for him and he tried to picture Bob similarly dressed in dirty cargo pants, work boots and a torn T-shirt hanging over his sculpted torso. With that gorgeous face and body he would look spectacular.

He imagined hearing a truck pull up at the gate, a door slam, then heavy footsteps come up the stairs. A fierce looking Bob, with his disheveled dark hair and stubbled square jaw, would drag him into the room, rip off his shirt and tight pants and throw him naked on the bed. He would kneel over him and pull off his T-shirt, then yank open his work pants, pull out his huge cock and dry fuck him, ignoring his screams. He'd make him kneel, crawl, humiliate him by cumming in his face, then fuck him again.

The young gymnast's imagination ran riot and gave him such a hard-on in his pants that he had to take a few deep breaths and think of something else to stop himself from busting his load. And as he stood there, his heart beating wildly, he heard the sound of tires on gravel down below. But it was not the loud rumble of a truck, rather the purr of Bob's Mercedes. A door closed with a muffled thud and Thomas found it hard to visualize the rugged, ragged Bob of his imagination getting out of the sleek sedan.

That image dissolved instantly when he caught sight of Bob coming up the stairs. Coming straight from his firm's cocktail party he was dressed in a well-cut dark blue business suit, crisp white shirt and red tie. It was a far cry from the sweaty look of the construction site, and of Thomas's imagination, but as one fantasy faded another took its place.

Even in business attire Bob was an icon of alpha-male beauty. Thomas had once seen a porn video that featured hot businessmen in suits getting together, making love and fucking. It had been really hot, but none of those guys could hold a candle to this man. He was, as he had once heard Darius describe him, a real masturbatory image.

Bob's tailored suit accentuated his muscular build, and the white shirt set off his chiseled, square-jawed features. The only feature that matched Thomas's earlier fantasy was the tangled mass of dark hair that fell over his forehead, contrasting with his otherwise immaculate appearance and suggesting a hint of something wilder under the polite business attire.

Another stark contrast to Thomas's fantasy was Bob's attitude. Far from dragging him inside, ripping his clothes off and pounding his ass, Bob was coolly detached. "Good, you're here," he said. "Come in." Thomas was momentarily reminded of the gentlemen he had serviced at the hotel, who often treated him in the same dismissive way – a mere boy for hire.

As Bob brushed passed him to open the door Thomas detected the faint musky scent of an expensive cologne – at the opposite end of the aromatic scale from the pungent stink of sweat and grease of the construction workers who had gang-fucked him. But even this refined smell he found intoxicating – at least as sexy on Bob as the sweat and grease of the others.

"Stand there," Bob said over his shoulder as he went over to the drinks cabinet. Thomas stood in the middle of the room confused and disappointed. He could have cum just looking at the man and wanted desperately for Bob to use and abuse him ... but he was being all but ignored.

What was he doing wrong? It had to be his clothes – the smart black pants and loose cotton shirt. Bad choice. Obviously Bob was expecting him in something more suggestive, slutty even, like a cheap hustler that would rouse him and bring out the animal in him. God, he wanted that. He wanted this spectacular man to work him over, fuck him, hurt him, humiliate him.

He wondered if he should strip. The hotel guests he used to service after hours often began by telling him to get naked. But no, the only order Bob had given him was `stand there'. So that's what he did, though he found it increasingly painful to watch the handsome, sexy business executive. The guys who had gangbanged him had subjected him to pain, god knows, but this was just as bad in its way, this longing for Bob to touch him – to notice him, even.

What was worse was remembering what Pablo had said – that if Bob liked him enough he might ask him to stay the night. Well apparently Bob didn't like him enough even to pay any attention him. Thomas was scared that any minute he would tell him to leave ... and the suspense waiting for that axe to fall was the worst of all – a new kind of torture that, if anything, hurt more than getting dry fucked by a gang of drunken laborers

Of course, Bob knew exactly what he was doing. He had known almost from the first what kind of man Thomas was, with his obsessive need for domination. And Randy was the obvious man to make his fantasies come true, culminating in the gang-fuck on the construction site. Bob also knew there was no way he could compete with Randy on his own turf – a savage gypsy using his physical strength and sexual magnetism to make a boy crawl to him and beg for more.

Thomas craved that, but Bob thought he had to learn that there were other ways for a boy to be dominated by a master. There were more subtle methods of making a boy beg and totally surrender. If Randy was the master of physical domination, Bob could be equally devastating without lifting a finger. He had even tortured Randy that way in the past and now he went to work on the new boy.

He poured himself a Scotch and stood at his desk by the wall looking down at a folder and thumbing through it as he sipped his drink. Thomas saw the concentration on his handsome face and felt even more that he was virtually invisible to him. But there he was wrong.

When Bob had come up the stairs he had treated Thomas with casual indifference but he was acutely aware of how beautiful the boy was, with his tight pants showing off his ice-skater butt and that sexy shirt hanging open giving a glimpse of his gymnast's physique – flawless pecs and razor sharp abs. The nervous tension on his face made the young jock even more attractive, with any scrap of his former arrogance long gone. But Bob gave no hint of the boner building inside his well-tailored pants.

A master of sexual fantasy Bob knew that the closer the fantasy was to reality the more exciting it was. And, in truth, his mind was still partly on the business affairs he had been discussing at his company's social event, details of which he was now browsing through as he stood at his desk. He drained his Scotch and Thomas watched as he poured himself another. He unbuttoned his jacket, shrugged it off and tossed it across the room to Thomas. "Hang it in the closet over there, boy."

Startled, Thomas did as instructed, briefly holding the collar to his nose and breathing in the same musky smell of Bob's cologne before putting it on a hanger. He expected, wanted, more orders but they didn't come. He stood in the center of the room again and watched as Bob sat down at his desk, leaned back in his chair and studied the folder, his free hand moving idly over his crotch as he read.

Again Thomas had to fight to hold back his orgasm. Bob was wearing a short-sleeve white shirt, tailored to fit his torso snugly, the bulge of his pecs clearly visible, the short sleeves pulled back from his biceps. Underneath the shirt Thomas could see the faint outline of a white tank top stretched over his chest and tried to imaging what he would look like shirtless. Bob put on his reading glasses, fashionable square-rimmed glasses that made him look almost professorial, more masterful – and even more stunningly handsome.

Thomas desperately wanted to touch his cock, knowing the merest touch would make him cum all over the floor. The frustration of watching the handsome, muscular businessman made his balls ache but he knew he could not move without permission. And still Bob ignored him. As if coming to a decision Bob put down his drink, picked up his desk phone and punched a number.

"Hi, Susan, is David still there? Good, yeah I'll hold." He looked up casually, held his hand over the mouthpiece and waved his finger at Thomas. "Take the shirt off. Hi, David, look sorry to call so late but there's something I wanted to run by you ..." He settled back in his chair, loosened his tie and opened the top button of his shirt, revealing a tuft of chest hair.

Thomas wasn't sure if he had heard right as Bob was now ignoring him again, giving all his concentration to the phone call. But he did as ordered, undid his shirt, pulled it out of his waistband and let it drop to the floor. He stood shirtless, his hands behind his back, waiting.

Bob had his full attention on the phone conversation and Thomas didn't see him glance at the shirtless young gymnast in the mirror, his black pants hugging his narrow hips, the mounds of his spectacular ass visible in an adjacent mirror.

"Shit damn," Bob breathed softly. "No, nothing David, sorry ... yeah, so what I want is to combine those two projects into one – makes logical sense and would save a shitload of money. Tell you what ... get ahold of Marina and Ted and come to my office at eleven on Monday so we can brainstorm it. Call me back to confirm. Good."

The authoritative Senior Vice-President put down the phone, took another hit of scotch and stretched his arms above his head with a look of satisfaction on his face. With a deep sigh he pulled off his tie, unbuttoned his shirt all the way down, lolled back in his chair and studied the folder again.

Thomas's cock jerked in his pants as he gazed at Bob, whose shirt was now pushed back on his shoulders and hanging open, exposing the white tank top stretched over his chest. As he read the documents his hand ran idly over the tight tank, stroking the slabs of his pecs. When his fingers brushed against his nipples under the thin cotton he sighed, stirred in his chair and reached for his glass of Scotch.

Thomas was beside himself with lust and frustration. He had to touch this man, get him to notice him. In a perverse way it was the opposite of his experiences showing off to his gentlemen clients at the hotel. They had watched mesmerized as he did a slow striptease. Now here he was gazing at the handsome, muscular executive as he slowly loosened his business clothes.

The young athlete's frustration felt like physical pain as his cock bulged in his tight pants, straining for release. A whipping would have been less painful – he would have welcomed it, would have gladly crawled through dirt and degraded himself for it. But this indifference from Bob was driving him insane.

Crawl through the dirt. That was it. He knew how that looked to a master, watching him drag himself forward, his ass cheeks flexing as he moved. It had sure turned on Randy and Zack. He couldn't just stand here and cream his pants looking at Bob, so he threw caution to the winds in a last-ditch attempt to demonstrate his adulation of this beautiful man.

He kicked off his loafers, pulled off his socks and fell to his knees, then prostrated himself on his stomach. Shirtless and barefoot he dragged himself forward over the carpet, the muscles of his back rippling, the fabric of his pants pulled tight over his ass, clenching and releasing with the crawling motion of his legs.

Ostensibly reading, Bob glanced over the top of the paper at the wall mirror and stifled a gasp as he saw the erotic vision of the handsome young blond degrading himself. Bob had watched figure skaters on TV in the past and admired their slim, athletic figures, their legs encased in tight pants. He had been sexually aroused focusing on their flawless butts as he watched them jump and spin. And now here was one of the most beautiful of them, stripped to the waist, barefoot, crawling toward him in an act of abject submission.

Bob shifted in his chair again to ease the position of his straining cock and the compulsion to spray jizz in his pants. But finally he could feign disinterest no more when Thomas stretched his arms forward grabbed his ankle, pulled himself forward and rested his face on his foot, licking the shiny black shoe, a supplicant begging for a touch of the powerful muscle-god executive.

"What the fuck...?" Bob's voice was harsh. "Did I tell you to move, boy? Did I?"

"No, sir," Thomas panted desperately. "No, I'm sorry, sir, but I wanted you so bad. I wanted to touch you, sir, I wanted you to touch me, just once, sir. You are so beautiful ... I need you, sir."

"`I want ... I want ... I need'. This is not all about you, Thomas. Can't you see I'm working?"

"Please don't send me away, sir. I'll do anything ... I'll stand there as long as you like ... I won't speak, I won't cum." His voice cracked in a sob. "I just want to be here, sir, in the same room as you. Please don't make me leave."

"Godammit," Bob growled, "I really don't need this with everything I have to do. OK, stand the fuck up." Thomas leapt to his feet, trembling. "Get naked." Bob sat at his desk and perused the folder again while the boy yanked open his pants and pulled them off, then stood to attention in just black briefs, the kind Mario wore.

A minute went by before Bob looked up casually from his file, "I said naked, boy. Turn around." He obeyed and Bob's eyes opened wide at the sight of the exquisite ass, hugged by the straining fabric of the briefs. "Holy shit," be murmured under his breath. Then out loud, "Lose the briefs." Bob gulped as the briefs dropped and he saw the solid globes of the flawless ass, gleaming white against the tan lines at his slim waist and his sturdy thighs.

"Hmm, let's see if I should keep you around. Show off your ass." Instantly the naked young gymnast flexed his ass cheeks, making them bulge and the dimples at the sides even deeper. He reached back and ran his hands over them, caressing his ass as if displaying it for sale. He had always felt degraded doing this for the men he serviced, but not now. It was a point of pride to show off his body for the man he craved, doing all he could to be allowed to stay."

Bob held his lust in check, his desire to shove his dick between those cheeks, and said in a bored tone. "OK, I guess you can stay, but I'll make sure I get no more interruptions. Get on the bed, on your back." Again Bob had to control his emotions as the naked jock lay on the bed, his erotically athletic body gleaming under the ceiling spotlights. "Raise your arms. I gotta make sure you don't try the same stunt you did just now."

Bob pulled one of his wrists to the corner bed post and tied it with the rope that was always there. As he worked on the other he said, "Randy keeps these ropes here for when he wants to subdue a boy, whip and fuck him." He stood back, shrugged off his shirt and a smile crossed his face. "Course, he does it to me too when he ties me down so he can work me over – like whipping my body and fucking my ass to show me who's boss." He chuckled as he raised his arms in a gesture of how he looks spread-eagled on the bed.

"Aaagh ..." Thomas's heart pounded as he gazed at the homoerotic image of the business executive stripped down to his white tank, his torso tapering down to a narrow waist. As Bob raised his arms, his shoulders and biceps flexed and the tank pulled out of the waistband of his pants, giving a glimpse of his washboard abs underneath. There were damp stains under his arms and down the sides as sweat trickled down from his armpits and inside the tank.

Thomas flashed on the pornographic fantasy of this beautiful alpha male tied to the bed at the mercy of the savage gypsy, having his sweat-stained clothes ripped off, his magnificent body whipped and his ass ramrodded by the gypsy's massive cock.

It was an image Thomas could not survive. Longing to touch his cock he pulled desperately at the ropes binding him. Bob lowered his arms and watched as the naked jock writhed on the bed, his head thrashing from side to side. He screamed, "No, no ... I can't ... I don't ... aaah ... aaah ... aaagh!" His cock erupted in a stream of semen that rose high in the air and splashed down on his razor sharp abs.

Thomas sobbed in despair. He had never felt so naked, so pathetic as he lay tied up, tears running down his face and a pool of cum on his stomach. The other day he had been humiliated by the construction workers when they made him kneel and shot jizz in his face, but this felt worse. He had wanted so much to impress the gorgeous executive, wanted to be desirable to him, and here he was degraded in bondage, unable to stop his cock from erupting at the sight of the dominant man towering over him.

"I'm sorry, sir," he stammered. "I didn't mean to do that ... I know it was wrong ... but you look so incredible, sir, I couldn't stop. Please, don't say it's over just because I shot my load, sir. Don't make me go away. Let me stay a while, please ..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Look I gotta work on this big project so I don't need distractions. And I don't wanna hear from you. Here, this ought to do it. He reached behind his head, pulled up on his tank top and pulled it off over his head, unveiling his bare torso before the boy's astonished eyes. Seeing the muscle-god shirtless, stripped down to his suit pants, Thomas closed his eyes tight, fearful of shooting another load.

When he opened them again Bob was bending over him. "Let's get rid of this fucking jizz. He used his tank to mop up the pool of semen on his stomach, then crumpled it up and stuffed it in Thomas's gaping mouth. He stood back and looked down at the naked blond gymnast choking on his gag. "Yeah, bound and gagged. That's better. Now maybe you'll leave me alone, you young fucker." Bob sat down at his desk, opened his laptop and started work.

Thomas's head was swimming in a turmoil of fear, frustration and desire – mostly desire. He had a clear view of the shirtless executive, his sculpted features and muscular body lit by the bluish light of the computer screen. He thought the gag would choke him at first so he breathed through his nose, but he discovered that he could breathe though his mouth if he inhaled deeply enough. As he did so he was intoxicated by the smell and taste of his own cum and Bob's sweat that oozed from the tank.

His cock was pulsing, rock hard again so soon after his orgasm. He could see the man's muscles rippling as he worked, could taste and smell him, could drink his sweat if he bit down on the tank and sucked hard. The sensual overload was so intense that he drifted into a state of ecstasy. He recalled that night in the hotel room when he had lost his virginity, where his ass had been fucked by a man for the first time in his life. And that man had been Bob, the man he was looking at now, smelling him, tasting him, swallowing his sweat.

And he knew beyond all doubt that that's what he craved again – to feel Bob's cock in his ass. He had wanted it even as he had waited for Bob to come home, though he hadn't dared to hope for it. Now, in the face of Bob's indifferent attitude to him the prospect seemed even more remote. He closed his eyes and recalled how it had been, feeling Bob's big cock moving inside him, but he felt another climax approaching and quickly opened his eyes to dispel the image.

But he instantly found himself staring at the man himself and again his cock jolted and he inhaled sharply to stop cumming. But that deep breath made his head swim with the taste and smell of the man and he bit down to forestall his orgasm, which only made Bob's sweat trickle down his throat. Whatever he did, consciously or unconsciously, eyes open or closed, the mere act of breathing, he was overwhelmed by the essence of this man. He couldn't escape it, nor did he want to ... but he was powerless to act.

His lust for the man consumed him ... it was pure torture. He could bear it if Randy or Zack tied him up, whipped him and fucked him. He could crawl through the mud and get gang-fucked by drunken laborers. But what Bob was doing to him was sheer agony, a knife blade of frustration that pierced him, body and soul.

Bob was so damn beautiful and he wanted him so much he couldn't take any more. It had to end. He would just let go, give into his cravings, gaze at Bob, drink his sweat ... and let his cock erupt again. Bob would be angry and send him away. But he had no choice.

One of Randy's talents when he was pounding a man's ass was in knowing exactly when the guy had reached his pain threshold. Bob had the same instinct, though in his case it was not physical pain, but even so he sensed that Thomas had reached his limit. So just when Thomas was about to surrender to his own sexual compulsion he heard a click of the laptop closing and saw Bob stand up, stretch and yawn.

"That's that," Bob said with a look of satisfaction. "Shit, hard work always makes me feel horny. Usually I come home to Randy and we fuck, but tonight he's getting worked over and probably fucked by Zack. But I need me a piece of ass." He leaned down and pulled the sweaty tank from Thomas's mouth. He held it to his own face and inhaled. "Hmm, sexy. I suppose you wanna get your ass fucked, eh boy?"

"Aaaah," Thomas sobbed looking up at the stunning businessman, stripped to the waist, stretching and flexing his muscles. "Sir, I want it so bad. I'll do anything, sir, anything you say. Tie me up and whip me, torture me... I'll crawl, I'll drink your piss, anything, just to feel your dick in my ass, sir. Please sir, this is the worst pain I ever felt. I'll give you anything you want."

Hey," Bob laughed, "all I said I wanted to do was fuck your ass, boy. Besides, you have been tied up and tortured and you're crawling to me right now, more than you've ever crawled to any man before. Good thing I'm horny as a stallion right now."

Bob ripped open his pants and pulled out his iron hard rod. He knelt on the bed and hooked the boy's legs over his shoulders. He spat in the palm of his hand and spread saliva on his cock. "No need for lube this time, eh boy?"

"No, sir, I'd take a dry fuck, sir – whatever you want." After all he had gone through – the torture of watching this spectacular man, craving him but being ignored – he could now hardly believe he was actually about to feel his cock in his ass. Bob leaned forward and twisted the boy's nipples hard.

"Thank you, sir," Thomas gasped, thrilled by the pain shooting through his chest. Then Bob slid the head of his cock between the white globes of his ass and it came to rest in the soft, downy fuzz of blond hair round his hole. Thomas held his breath, waiting ... waiting for the moment he had dreamed of, the moment he would feel the handsome businessman's cock enter him.

As he tensed in anticipation he clenched his ass tight, which gave Bob all the more pleasure as he slid his cock over the sphincter and eased it slowly, gently into the boy's tights ass. Thomas pulled against the ropes binding his wrists, desperate to touch the magnificent, sculpted body lowering itself over hm. He gazed into the soft brown eyes that were smiling now in contrast to the cold indifference of before. A sensation of pure joy raced through him as he surrendered himself, body and soul, to this beautiful god-like man.

He saw Bob's hips rise as his cock eased back, then heaved a deep sigh as it pushed back in, deeper, more insistent this time. Thomas was floating, flying, wallowing in every romantic cliché of heaven, the moon, the stars, and indescribable happiness.

And then the phone rang.

Bob looked up and suddenly jerked his cock out of the boy's ass. The movement was so abrupt, so painful that Thomas opened his eyes wide and howled "No!" ... and his cock blasted another jet of sperm over his heaving chest.

Bob sprang to his feet, grabbed the phone from his desk and held it to his ear. "David! Yeah, thanks for getting back to me." As he listened to his assistant Bob stood at the foot of the bed, still shirtless in dark blue, tailored pants, and stared at Thomas while idly stroking his stiff cock oozing pre-cum. "Good, good, well done, so they're all on board. Get Roger to come too – he's great at crunching numbers..."

Thomas was beside himself, in an agony of frustration. This couldn't be happening. He was so close to the fulfilment of his dream, his fantasy, so close to heaven. But it was paradise lost, shattered, as Bob reverted to the efficient business executive of before. But at least he was looking at him, at least he was stroking his cock. Thomas clung to these signs like a drowning man clutching a lifebelt. He had never felt so desperate in his life.

"Sure, perfect. Arrange for lunch to be brought in while we work. Promises to be a long meeting. Great work, David. See you Monday." He turned off the phone and flung it on a chair. Throughout the phone call he had stared at Thomas, watching the beautiful young gymnast struggling naked on the bed, tugging hopelessly against his restraints. It looked so hot that Bob would have busted his load if he had not had half his attention on the phone call.

Instinctively Thomas begged. "Please, sir, don't send me away. I'll be good, I'll be quiet. Just let me stay in the same room with you, watching you while you sleep."

"That doesn't sound like much fun, Tommy," Bob smiled. He kicked off his shoes, unbuckled his belt and let his pants dropped to the floor. Thomas stared in silent awe at the near naked executive in white boxers and black socks. Unbelievably the boy's cock, which had already unloaded twice, rose up like a flagpole.

Bob walked to the side of the bed and raised one foot over Thomas's face. "Pull it off, boy." Eagerly the bound athlete took the end of the black sock in his teeth and jerked his head back until the sock came off. Bob raised his other foot and Thomas pulled that sock off with his teeth.

The socks lay on his face and Bob used his bare foot to grind them across his mouth. Thomas inhaled the odor of sweaty feet, then licked the sole of Bob's foot and sucked his toes in a first-time-ever act of foot worship that now came naturally to him. He would do anything for this man.

Bob stepped back, dropped his shorts and stroked his cock. "Should I cum in your face, Thomas, like the other guys did? Is that what you want?"

"Sir, do anything you want to me. I worship you sir. I'll do whatever you tell me to."

Unexpectedly Bob dropped to his knees beside the bed and stroked the boy's blond hair. "Poor, Thomas," he smiled. "I've really put you through the ringer, haven't I? I did it on purpose to show you there's another way a master can discipline a boy – make him beg, make him surrender to a man. And for the longest time I didn't even touch you.

"See, it's not all about getting gangbanged by a bunch of roughneck construction workers, getting tied up and whipped, crawling through the mud. Though you did more than your share of crawling and begging, except there was no mud and no torn T-shirts. But don't worry Thomas, I am gonna fuck your ass. I knew that the minute I climbed those stairs and saw the gorgeous young jock in his tight black pants and elegant loose shirt. Cool outfit by the way – real sexy.

"In fact, Thomas, you're gonna get more than fucked. You're gonna share my bed all night and I'm gonna make love to my beautiful blond ice-skater with the buns of death. Let's do something about this first." Bob bent over his chest and sucked up the semen Thomas had spilled. Then he clamped their mouths together and shared the juice with the boy. When he pulled back Thomas's eyes were glistening with tears of relief and excitement.

Bob reached up and with a simple pull of the escape knot released first one wrist then the other. "There, just so you can touch me, which you've wanted to do since we came in here. Now I want you to show me your ass."

As the naked muscle-stud towered over him at the end of the bed Thomas obediently put his hands behind his knees and pulled his legs back to display his ass, an offering to a god. "Now, where were we before we were interrupted?" Bob grinned, kneeling between his legs. "Oh, yeah, I remember. My dick was in your ass ... like this." Once again he pushed his cock into the warm, waiting ass, and once again Thomas took flight.

This time there were no interruptions, no phone call, just one man making love to the other man's flawless ass. Thomas reached up and ran his hands lovingly over the sculpted body – over the chest, down the cleft between the pecs, down the sloping lats and along the ridges of the eight-pack abs.

Bob leaned forward and kissed him, then turned him over on his stomach, pressed the small of his back down on the bed and stared at the perfect globes as he pushed his long shaft between them. Eventually he pulled the boy up on all fours and fucked him in front of the mirror doggy style as Thomas gazed at the reflection of the naked executive fucking him from behind.

They rolled over and over on the bed until Thomas was on his back again, holding his legs back to give the master a clear shot at his ass. Bob said, "Do you want it hard, Tommy, so hard it will make you cum again?"

The boy's eyes gleamed. "I've never wanted anything so much in my life, sir." He saw a change come over Bob's face, from the soft, gentle smile to the fierce expression Thomas had seen in the eyes of Bob's gypsy lover, Randy. "Aaagh," Thomas howled as Bob's cock became a piston driving into the furnace of the boy's ass. Thomas reached up, clamped his hands on the musclehunk's chest and dug his fingers into his pecs.

Impaled on Bob's pounding shaft he knew that he could not last long before cumming yet again. But this time he didn't try to hold back. This time he gazed up at the man who had driven him wild with desire and said, "Sir, please let me cum. I love you, sir. Let me cum for you."

"We'll cum together, buddy. Man, you have a beautiful ass. It feels so damn hot. Here it comes, boy... I'm gonna shoot inside you ... yeah, yeah, yeah ... now!"

As Thomas's head thrashed from side to side his mind flashed back to the sight of the handsome, smartly dressed business executive coming up the stairs, then sitting at his desk, his shirt hanging open over his tight tank top, then towering over him shirtless. And now here he was, the same powerful man, buck naked, stretched over him pounding his ass and pouring semen deep inside him.

"I love you, sir. I love you ... Aaah ..." A stream of white juice spurted up from his cock and splashed on the heaving chest of the man above him – the man he was going to sleep with all night long.

Thomas lay for a long time wrapped in Bob's arms ... but he was in for another surprise when Bob suddenly said, "There's something I have to show you, Thomas, another step in your education. Get up and put those black pants on again. Don't worry, it won't take long, and then I'll bring you back and we'll go to bed."

Confused and excited Thomas did as ordered while Bob pulled on blue jeans and said, "Remember when you got gang-fucked by those guys and Zack was the last?"

"Yes, sir, but my ass was so sore after the others that I couldn't take it. I said the safe word and Pablo pulled Zack off of me."

"Yeah," Bob grinned, "and I can imagine how mad Zack was at being stopped by a boy. I'm surprised he didn't slug Pablo."

"Oh no, sir, Randy intervened and told Zack that Pablo was right to defend me. Zack was still mad, though, and I remember what he said to Randy. `OK, but in exchange I'm gonna have your ass ... tonight ... at my house.' Randy agreed, but I don't really understand why."

"He did it to save you and Pablo, Thomas. It's what Randy does – protects his boys, no matter the price he has to pay. Randy and Zack are two of a kind, both construction bosses, both tough alpha males. They're real close buddies, but competitive too. They've had fights before, but this time it's more than that. It's a matter of honor between two dominant males, one of those periodic trials of strength that the men need, a rite of passage like two rams butting heads and locking horns to determine the leader of the pack.

"But Zack can be a rough son of a bitch and I'm worried about what he'll do. I'd feel better about it if I were there, `cos I have a feeling that I, or maybe even you, might be able to help Randy out. After all, Randy put himself at risk to protect you and Pablo. So let's go see."

Bewildered at this sudden turn of events Thomas followed Bob down the stairs, out through the gate and across the street to Zack's house. And there, in the garden, an extraordinary sight met their eyes. Randy, stripped to the waist in jeans and boots, was spread-eagled between two trees, his arms stretched in a V, wrists tied to the trees, legs astride, his feet similarly bound.

Zack, in black leather pants and boots, with a leather vest open over his bare chest, stood facing him – the black leather master versus the rugged King of the Gypsies.

"You know why we're here, man," Zack said menacingly. "Your boy humiliated me, pulling me off that new kid while I was fucking his ass. Your boy did that. I wouldn't take that from you, let alone your boy. You were saving the kid from more punishment, I know that, but you still owe me. It's your own rule, man, the punishment fits the crime – an eye for an eye, and ass for an ass. And it's your ass that's on the line here."

Standing back in the shadow of trees Thomas said nervously to Bob, "What's happening, sir? What's he gonna do to Randy?"

"Ssshh. Just wait, Tommy. You'll find out."

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 302

Hey guys, this is Rob Williams. I hope that chapter got you off, and I welcome your comments and suggestions, which can be very helpful in planning future chapters. E-mail me in confidence at rw6789@aol.com.

ALSO, I invite 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