A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 322 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER:

Randy is blamed by the tribe for his attack on their friend Mike in the desert. Only his loyal boy Pablo, supports him. "You're my rock, kiddo," he says. "Damn, I need your ass." At the Grady House, Grady watches via Skype as his Italian lover Mario makes love to the eager houseboy, Brian. And later, at his desert home, Mike sees a stunning sight. "Fucking beautiful guy – but he's still an asshole."

CHAPTER 322 – "LOVE HEALS THE WOUNDS"

************ In the previous chapter ***********

It had been a festive weekend when Randy, Bob and Mark and their boys were guests at the desert home of Mike, the genial middle-aged owner of the leather bar near Palm Springs. After dinner their boys, Pablo, Jamie and the twins, had staged an erotic floorshow for their host, watched also by the enthusiastic junior boys Brandon and Brian sitting side by side in their wheelchairs.

But there had been a hitch. Pablo had earlier had a quiet conversation with Mike, who gently suggested that, while it was fine that he idolized his master Randy, maybe Pablo shouldn't try to copy him quite so much. He should find his own voice, step out from Randy's shadow and do things on his own initiative rather than always conforming to Randy's expectations.

Pablo had taken the older man's advice to heart and, when the time came for him to have playful sex with Jamie in front of them all he played the role he wanted to play and let Jamie fuck him doggy style. This had punctured Randy's prideful boast that Pablo was a top-man, just like him – a chip off the old block.

And after that Pablo had shown an assertiveness and leadership that impressed the other boys but angered Randy as his paranoia made him mistakenly feel he was losing control of his boy.

Mike later confided in Bob, "Hell, I never expected the boy to react so soon, but that's what the thing between him and Jamie was all about. He knew Randy wanted him to be top man but he did what he really wanted – give his ass to his buddy. Damn, I'm old enough to know better than to come between a boy and the man nurturing him, especially a man like Randy."

They were both uneasy at how Randy might respond, and their fears were justified. Randy's mood festered and, near the end of their stay he made Pablo tell him what Mike had said to him. Randy's anger spiked, he stormed out to Mike in the garden and launched right in.

"What the fuck have you been telling my boy, old timer? You've been fucking with his mind, telling him he should do what he wants and pay no attention to me." Mike didn't back down. He looked Randy firmly in the eye and explained what had really been said.

Randy seethed, his voice rising. "And what the fuck gives you the right to come between me and my boy, give him advice, turn him against his own dad? You've got some fucking nerve, old man. That boy is mine! I'm his master, his dad, and he does what I tell him, not some over-the-hill dickhead he's just met. You want him for yourself, that it? You wanna get in his pants."

Mike's own anger flared. "That's disgusting, boy ... Listen, this is my house and I don't have to stand here listening to your bullshit and get insulted in my own home. OK, I was wrong to give your kid advice, at least I thought I was until now. Now I see you ranting and raving I'm not so sure. Maybe he does need someone else he can confide in, someone who's not plumb crazy."

"Fuck you, man. Fuck you. You're just a frustrated old guy who thinks he knows what young guys want. Well that boy wants me, and only me, so get that in your head."

"OK, this conversation's over Randy. I can't reason with a guy whose anger is making him come totally unglued. Boy, I've thrown more crazy guys like you out of my bar than I can count, and right now I'm throwing you out of my house."

"The hell you are! Anyone talks to me like that, asshole, and ..." In a towering rage Randy lost all control, raised his arm and slammed the back of his hand across Mike's cheek, sending him staggering backwards, falling over a chair and crashing to the ground.

Randy stood glaring down at him, his breath heaving. His eyes, wild with anger, could hardly focus at first, but as his heart stopped pounding he found himself staring down at their friend Mike sprawled on the ground. In a daze he slowly began to realize what he had done.

Luckily Mike had fallen on the grass, not the concrete, which could have been disastrous. Randy reached down to help him but Mike glared up at him. "No! Don't touch me ... do not touch me." He pulled himself up on his feet and rubbed his jaw. His anger spent, Randy looked in confusion at the man he had just attacked and who now addressed him in a calm, level voice.

"Randy, when I first saw you I thought, now there's a real man, a gorgeous alpha male that guys could look up to and respect as a born leader. I know different now. I would have been honored to be your friend, but I see now that's not possible."

"Listen, man, I ..." Randy stammered, but Mike silenced him with a raised hand.

"No, don't speak, and for god's sake don't apologize ... don't insult me with that bullshit. I'm familiar with the pattern of abuse where guys like you slug a man, apologize, ask for forgiveness and promise it'll never happen again – until the next time when the cycle starts again. I saw yesterday how you operate. You fuck up, brutalize a man like Bob, then do penance by asking for physical punishment, getting whipped and fucked ... and it's over ... all's right with the world.

"God knows what you've put Bob and the other guys through in the past. Well maybe they idolize you so much you get away with it and they do forgive you – just big boss Randy being Randy. Well not me, boy. I've been around that block before – and never again. So, I'm supposed to give you a thrashing and that makes everything OK? Well not me, kid, I don't go in for that shit ... ain't never gonna happen.

"So here's what is gonna happen, boy. You will get out of my house and never set foot here again. If you come to my bar I'll have you thrown out. I don't want you to call, I never want to speak to you again. This is just between you and me, boy. I won't say a word about it to those wonderful guys waiting for you outside. Just know that for me, Randy, you don't exist."

Mike's eyes grew moist as he reached up and gently touched Randy's stubbled jaw. "What a waste ... such a beautiful man and such a fucked-up mess." He turned round, walked away, and went back to arranging the chairs.

Randy had listened to Mike's tongue lashing like a scolded kid. Now he stood stunned for a minute as his eyes filled with tears and he started to sob. But as the tears fell he pulled himself together. He took a deep breath, swallowed hard and wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand. He straightened up and strode to the gate.

The three trucks were all loaded and everyone was on board. Randy climbed in beside Bob who looked at him with alarm, at his face streaked with tears and the agonized look in his eyes.

"Randy, whatever's the matter. What's happened?"

"Nothing, man. Let's just get the hell out of here."

He revved the engine, the trucks pulled away from the house ... and they headed home.

************************ CHAPTER 322 ************************

The mood in Randy's truck was muted as they drove back to the city. Pablo had opted to sit in the big back seat with the twins, his dog Billy beside him as usual, head hanging out of the window.

In the front seat there was a distinct coolness between Randy and Bob. Randy was in no mood to talk about what had happened and Bob was afraid to hear about it, and he certainly didn't want the boys to. It was pretty obvious to Bob that Randy had confronted Mike – he just didn't know how bad it was.

As his mind was turning over the events of the last two days Bob reflected sadly on how the earlier festive mood had been ruined in just a few minutes after Randy had spoken to Mike. Things could have been so different. His thoughts drifted over the fun they had all had watching the boys and how pleasant it had been hanging out with Mike. Bob realized that the presence of an older man was good for them all. He was a wise and calming influence on them.

There had even been tentative plans for a return trip, and Bob recalled snippets of conversation over the breakfast table outdoors. They had looked admiringly over the well-manicured grounds and Mark had said, "Great garden you got here, Mike. A lot of hard work went into it, I bet."

Thanks, Mark," Mike said, "it took a long while. Only thing left is that big pool heater over there that's a bit of an eyesore. I want to put a solid trellis round it to hide it, but I haven't got round to hiring someone to do it – haven't found anyone who'll do a good enough job."

"Hell, we could do that for you easy," Randy had said. "We'll take care of it next time we come out here."

Hmm, fat chance of that now, Bob thought ruefully. It would be a long time before they would be invited to that house again. Mike was a great guy, generous and easy-going, but he was tough too, and would certainly not tolerate being insulted in his own house, which is what Bob was pretty sure Randy had done.

Even in the two trucks following them on the highway the mood was somber as everyone was aware that something bad had gone down. The cop Mark, who liked to treat his boy Jamie as an equal, listened with interest as Jamie gave his opinion on Pablo's transformation and Randy's likely reaction to it.

In the third truck the two junior boys Brandon and Brian nervously discussed the situation and speculated about what had happened. Brandon sighed, "Anyway, dude, good thing that when we get back to town I'm going home to Pete and you're going to the Grady House. Wouldn't wanna be in the main house for a while until the dust has settled."

"Yeah," said Brian, "but I reckon Bob will know what to do. He's good at stuff like that."

As a matter of fact, when it came right down to it Bob decided to do very little. When they got home Bob and Randy went straight to their master bedroom, and Mark said to Jamie, "Hey, kiddo, I think I should go up to them and give Bob moral support. Do you mind waiting in our apartment `til I get back?"

"Of course not," Jamie grinned. "And when you get back you'll find me just the way you want me ... all ready and willing."

"I'm counting on it, buddy," Mark chuckled, grabbing his boy's ass, then left the room.

When Bob heard his knock on their door he shouted "Come in" with some relief. Mark found both men moving around tentatively, not making eye contact as they got ready for bed.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything," Mark asked warily.

"No, no, come in, Mark. Brandy?"

"Sure ... that's if ..." He looked questioningly from one to the other. "Guys, I just came up to clear the air a bit. You're my buddies, I love you both and, well, if there's anything I can do..."

"Sit down, Mark," Bob said. "Randy, you wanna join us?"

Randy shrugged off-handedly. "Sure, why not?" He sat with them, took the brandy Bob offered and knocked it back in one gulp. Bob refilled his glass and they sat in an awkward silence.

"Look, Randy," Bob said at last, "there's obviously a situation here, but I don't want us to do a whole post mortem. Right now I just want to know one thing ... did you hit Mike, Randy?"

There was silence again, then Randy said sullenly, "Yeah, I did. Hell, after what he said to my boy ... coming between us like that ... yeah I slugged him ... and if he ever ..."

"Randy!" Mark said sharply, hearing the tension already escalating. He might as well have said the cop's "Freeze!" as it had the same effect of stopping Randy dead in his tracks.

Bob took a deep breath. "Randy, it's too soon to talk about this until tempers have cooled, but I just want to say two things. I will call Mike tomorrow out of politeness and thank him for his hospitality this weekend. I won't mention the incident unless he brings it up but I very much doubt he will – he's too much of a gentleman.

"And anyway – and this is my second point – this is between you and Mike. You're on your own with this one, buddy. We won't get involved and I certainly don't want the boys involved. I'm sure the rumors are flying already. So if you can find some kind of way out of this, great. But it's all up to you ... like I said, you're on your own."

A look of alarm came to Randy's eyes and he blurted out, "Bob, you're not gonna ...?"

"No, Randy I'm not gonna leave you, you know I could never do that. I promised you that a long time ago. We're still solid and always will be. I love you, Randy, through good and bad."

No one was quite sure where to take this next, but suddenly there was a timid knock on the door and Pablo poked his head round it. "Oh, sorry, sirs, I didn't know you were ... I'll come back ..."

"No, Pablo, come in," Bob said. "We'd pretty much finished anyway."

Pablo came in and stood nervously before them, shifting from foot to foot. He looked directly at Randy and said, "Did I do something wrong sir? I think I must have fucked up or something. This is all about me, ain't it, sir? Am I gonna get punished?"

There was a heavy silence as all eyes turned to Randy. They could see his eyes get moist as he gazed at his boy waiting nervously for the verdict. Randy stood up, went to Pablo and took him in his arms. "No, kiddo. You did nothing wrong, nothing at all. Please don't think that."

Bob shot a look at Mark and they both got up from the table. "Randy, you and Pablo need time alone with each other. I'm going to spend the night with the twins ... my boys are a little shook up and they need me. And Mark," he grinned, "I'm pretty sure there's a young surfer downstairs lying naked on the bed waiting for his cop to come to him. Don't let him get cold, buddy."

"Don't worry, man, I'll soon warm him up." Bob went over to Randy and Pablo, kissed Pablo on the cheek and Randy on the lips, then he and Mark quietly left the room.

Randy put his hands on Pablo's shoulders and held him at arm's length smiling at him. "How about we drain the brandy bottle, kiddo?"

"Sure, sir." Pablo gave him that crooked smile, a mix of shyness and mischief, that always made Randy's heart melt. They sat at the table Bob and Mark had vacated and Randy poured the drinks. He raised his glass and clinked it against Pablo's. "Here's to us, kid."

"To us," Pablo said. He took a sip, then frowned, "Sir, are you sure I didn't do anything wrong in the desert, talking to Mike and all? I mean you're not just saying that to spare my feelings ...?"

"Boy, have you ever known me hold back when I think you've fucked up? I've whipped your ass enough times for you to know I don't hold back to spare your feelings. `Course," he grinned, "if you want me to whip your ass ..."

The grin was back ... "Always, sir."

"Nah, kiddo, if anyone fucked up it was me – big time. Jesus, how often have you sat here and heard your old man admit that to you? Yeah, kid, I did it again. There's no excuse for the way I spoke and behaved to Mike. I slugged him, you know." He winced at the memory.

"Mike's a good guy, and you know something? The advice he gave you – about not always modeling yourself on me – was good advice. Takes a wise old bird like Mike to say that to you. And the way you behaved after that, taking charge, doing your own thing, man that was great. I was proud of the way the other boys really looked up to you."

"Then why ...?

"Ah, that was me being a damn fool. You know how protective I am of you, and I panicked. I got this crazy idea you were slipping away from me. I even accused Mike of trying to take you away from me. After all, he's a leader of the community out there, lots of money, great house ... hell, the way I reacted I wouldn't have blamed you if you were tempted."

"Sir!" Pablo protested. "I'm your boy, the guy you adopted, and you're my hero." With a hurt look in his eye he said quietly, "You always said I was your rock, sir. Whenever there's trouble you could always depend on me, you said. Well you still can, sir, and you always will. I don't care what you've done, I would never leave you, sir." He faltered and his eyes became moist. "I couldn't ... I wouldn't know how to live without you, sir ... I ... I ..."

He broke down and suddenly his tears were flowing. Randy jumped up, pulled the boy up into his arms and let him cry on his shoulder. "You are my rock, kiddo. You're my boy, solid as a rock, and I'm the one that fucks up. Hell, kid," he grinned, "you say you model yourself on me. Maybe we got that round the wrong way – I should copy you. It'd make me a much better guy."

"No, sir, you're perfect the way you are ... perfect for me." Still tight in Randy's arms he ran his hands over the nape of his master's neck, over his wide shoulders and broad back, feeling the muscles rippling under his T-shirt. And Pablo's cock got hard, pressing against the bulge in Randy's pants.

"Hey, what's this, boy?" Randy grinned. "You got a boner down there? If I weren't such a prize fuck-up I might even think you want me to take you to bed, fuck that sweet ass, make love to you, then sleep with my naked boy in my arms all night long. But, nah, couldn't be that."

Pablo giggled. "I hate it when you tease me, sir. No I don't, I love it. I love everything you do ... especially all that bed stuff. Can we do that, sir? Please?"

In answer to his boy's eager question Randy grabbed the back of Pablo's T-shirt and pulled it off over his head. He stood back and gazed at the boy, whose eyes were shining with excitement and residual tears, and whose shorts protruded like a tent over a tent pole. "Turn around kiddo."

Pablo turned his back on Randy and did what he had done so often to turn Randy on. He shoved his hands in his pockets and pushed his shorts forward so they stretched tight over his bubble butt. "I swear kid, you have the finest ass on a boy I've ever seen. You been working on it – lots of squats in the gym?"

"Yes, sir, `cos I know you like it."

"Like it?! Damn, I wanna feast on it and shove my prick in it." He reached round the boy, ripped open his shorts and they fell round his ankles. Randy fell to his knees, pulled down Pablo's boxer briefs ... and buried his face between the round white globes. Pablo squirmed as he felt his master's tongue lick his butt, then probe inside it, slurping as he ate his ass, his face pressed against the light black fuzz round the hole.

When at last he pulled back Randy was on fire. "Damn, I need to fuck!" He jumped to his feet, clamped his big hands round the boy's waist, picked him up bodily and threw him face down on the bed. Pablo reached straight up, curled his fingers round the edge of the bed and held on tight. He raised his head and saw in the wall mirror behind the bed the big gypsy with that savage gleam in his eyes that Pablo knew so well. He was gonna get reamed by his master.

He watched as Randy pulled off his T-shirt, yanked open his jeans, pulled out his massive shaft and spat on it. Pablo's ass was already wet with Randy's saliva, and that's all it took. Randy fell forward over his boy and pinned his shoulders to the bed. With his feet firmly planted on the bed Randy was arched over him, his long, hard shaft pointing straight down at his ass. "What do you want, boy?" Randy teased.

Thrilled by the sight of the stubbled gypsy face, the muscular physique, his arms and shoulders flexing as he held him down, Pablo whimpered, "I wanna feel your dick in my ass, sir. Please, sir. Fuck my ass."

Randy grinned, his hips fell downward and his rod pierced his boy's ass and buried itself deep inside him. "Aaaagh!" Pablo yelled, feeling the indescribably ecstatic pain he always longed for and that only Randy could give him. "Thank you, sir," he howled. "I love you, sir."

Randy pulled back, plunged in again and began a long, forceful invasion of his boy's ass. The gypsy savagery when he fucked a defeated rival was legendary, but when he fucked for love – with Bob or now Pablo – that same ferocity was muted down to a restrained assault that men lusted for, longed for. It defined Randy as the most spectacular fuck in the tribe, where he brought a man to the brink of orgasm, then backed off and built again to another near-climax.

He teased, tortured, frustrated, enthralled, playing a man as a cat plays with a mouse, except that the man loved being Randy's victim, impaled on the piston of his cock.

It was likely one reason that Randy was regarded as the supreme leader of the tribe, unchallenged except occasionally by equally dominant men like Mark and Zack ... and more recently, in an entirely different way, by Mike who had given him a tongue-lashing equal to any physical attack Randy could mount.

But Pablo, Randy's devoted boy, surrendered body and soul to his master's implacable pile-driving shaft. He loved it, squirming in a frenzy of excitement at being so totally dominated by the man he worshipped.

In one of his signature moves Randy knelt upright and turned Pablo over on his back, his ass pivoting on Randy's cock that never broke its insistent rhythm in his ass. Now he was in his favorite position, with his boy's legs hooked over his shoulders, his hands flat on Pablo's chest, his cock now moving more gently in his ass as.

As he gazed down at him, at the loving, trusting brown eyes, Randy felt a pang of remorse for ever doubting his loyalty and for spoiling an otherwise great weekend for the boy. "Pablo," he said softly. "You know it's not in my nature to apologize, and anyway, apologizing to Mike or to Bob for the way I fucked up would be an insult. But kiddo, I do apologize to you, my gorgeous boy, my rock. How can I make it up to you, kiddo? ... Anything you want."

"Again the crooked smile. "That's easy, sir. All I want is to feel your jizz in my ass."

"Coming right up," Randy grinned. "He fell forward on his boy, chest to chest, and kissed him hungrily, all the time massaging his ass with his rock-hard cock. Pablo was in heaven, pinned under the solid weight of his master's muscular body, feeling his warm lips on his, inhaling his brandy-laced breath and feeling the exquisite pleasure of his cock filling his ass.

When the climax came there was no yelling, just a loud moan as Randy's semen poured into the boy's ass and Pablo's own flowed out of his cock, lubricating their bodies as they ground together in the throes of passion.

When their hearts and their breathing subsided Randy sighed, "Shit damn, kid, your ass is just fucking primo. I love fucking you ... I love fucking my young stud's butt."

"It's here for you whenever you want it, sir," Pablo grinned. "You know that."

Randy pulled his cock gently out of Pablo's ass, fell on his side on the bed, propped himself on his elbow and smiled down at him. "Tell you what, kid, tomorrow morning let's get up early, work out in the gym downstairs, then get to the construction site before anyone else. There's a shitload of work waiting for us. How's that backhoe engine coming along? I need it bad."

"I got the new parts for it, sir, and me and Ben can work on it and have it for you by noon."

"That's my boy. And how about in the lunch break you come to me in the trailer and we'll ..." he grinned sexily ... "we'll, er, have lunch?" Pablo nodded eagerly, knowing just what lunch would consist of. Randy bent down and kissed him. "You know, I was feeling real shitty when you came in here, kid, but you gave me back my confidence. I'm gonna need it too, got a lot of crap to sort through and this time it won't be easy. I'm in the doghouse and I can't see a way out."

"You'll find a way, sir, you always do." Pablo turned on his side and pressed his back against Randy who wrapped his arms round him and slid his cock back in his ass. And that's how they slept.

Meanwhile, two others guys returned home from the trip to a much brighter reception. Brandon dropped Brian off at the gates of the Grady House, watched him punch in the gate code and wheel himself inside. When the gates swung safely closed behind him Brandon drove down the hill to his bungalow and wheeled quickly inside to be greeted by the welcoming smile of his handsome ranger Pete.

After they hugged, long and hard, Pete said, "Boy, are you a sight for sore eyes. OK, kid, I wanna know what kind of mischief you got into out in the desert. A lot to tell, I bet."

"Oh, sir," Brandon said wide-eyed, "you won't believe how much. I mean, everything was going great until ..."

"Hey, hey, first things first, kid. I'm gonna take you to bed, make love to you, then to your ass. Then you'll fix us a snack and you can tell me all about it. You have a problem with any of that?"

"No problem at all," Brandon grinned, pulling off his shirt."

At the Grady House Brian was also getting an enthusiastic welcome, but for rather different reasons. The young house manager Danny was in the kitchen and had been alerted to Brian's arrival by looking at the gate monitor. When he came rolling in Danny opened his arms with a big smile and said, "Dude, am I glad to see you. Listen, I wanna hear all about your trip but it'll have to wait a while.

"Things have got a bit out of hand here with me spending so much time with Mario, and he wants me to spend the night with him again. He's still missing Grady while he's filming in England, though they've been Skyping a lot ... sex, chatting, more sex, you know. Grady calls late every evening when it's morning in England before he reports to makeup. And again in the afternoon when the shoot ends and it's evening over there – they're eight hours ahead of us.

"Anyway, I've got all behind here and I gotta check the supplies for tomorrow, so do you think you can take this snack up to Mario? He likes espresso and gelato in the evening and I've made a special desert. I'm sorry to pounce on you when you've just come home, but ..."

Brian could see that Danny was frazzled and said, "Yeah, dude, of course I will ... that's why I'm here. And listen, in the morning, why don't you sleep in late with Mario and let me take care of breakfast? I've helped you do it often enough by now and I know exactly what Mario wants. I'll do a couple of trays and bring them up to you. And if you like I'll stay and tell you both all about our desert trip. There's a whole bunch to tell."

Danny's eyes sparkled with relief. "Would you do that, dude? That would sure help a whole lot, and I could use a break." He bent down and kissed him. "I've missed you, dude. Here, I've got the tray ready. He's up in the master bedroom."

With the food on his tray table Brian went up in the elevator, along the long corridor and tapped on the double doors to the master bedroom. "Come in, Danny."

"It's not Danny, sir, it's me Brian."

"Hey, Brian, you're home. Look who's here, amico." He was speaking to his laptop and Brian realized he was in mid-Skype with Grady.

"Oh, sorry, sir, I didn't mean to interrupt," as he backed up his wheelchair.

"No, no, come in mio bel ragazzo. Grady look what Brian's brought me." He took the tray from Brian then turned his laptop to Brian who found himself looking at Grady, already wearing the loose white shirt he would wear as Viscount John in the England scenes of the Tarzan movie.

"Hey," Grady said with his dazzling smile. "Great to see you, kiddo. Gee I've missed that smile of yours. So how's my favorite boy?"

"I thought I was your favorite boy," Mario teased.

Grady laughed, "You, amico, are my favorite Italian, Danny's my favorite chef and Brian here is my favorite houseboy. Talking of which, Brian, you know what scene we'll be shooting today? The one where I force myself on the servant girl. You remember you and I rehearsed that scene and I said I had a problem forcing myself on anyone so I practiced on you and fucked a servant boy instead of a girl? Remember that?"

"Of course, sir. I'll never forget that."

"Yeah, so remember I said that when I actually got to play the scene I would be thinking of you? Well I will be in a few hours, so if you feel your ears burning, that's why. Hey, Mario tells me you've just come back from you guys' trip to the desert. How about when I call Mario later – tomorrow afternoon for you – you join Mario and Danny and tell us all the gory details? I love gossip from home. Oops, there's my call for makeup. Gotta go."

Brian quickly left the room so Mario could say his private goodbye. As he rode back down in the elevator he thought how exciting it was to be home. He couldn't wait for tomorrow ... and his old desert trailer was already a dim memory of a past best forgotten.

Next morning in the tribe's main house Randy and Pablo woke early, had a father/son workout session in the downstairs gym, then went off to the construction site. Pablo sat proudly beside Randy in the truck, with a smiling face and a sore ass.

Bob had spent a night with the twins, much to their delight, and when he stirred they had already gone down to the kitchen to start cooking breakfast. He sighed as all of yesterday's nagging issues came crowding back to him and he prepared to face a difficult day.

But he was not surprised to find that Randy had already left for work, as he knew that whenever Randy was in trouble he took refuge in what he knew best – rough physical work. It was therapy for him and Bob could imagine him today working twice as hard as anyone else, one reason the construction crew respected him so loyally.

There was one thing Bob had to do before anything else. With a deep sigh he picked up the phone and punched in Mike's number. "Hey, Mike, it's Bob. Buddy I just wanted to call and thank you for all your hospitality over the weekend. We all had a bunch of fun, and I hope you did too."

"Hell, Bob, how could I fail to with those boys of yours putting on that sexy floorshow? Man they should take it on the road – starting in Vegas. They're a great bunch of boys ... you should be real proud of your family. It's OK to call them your family, isn't it?"

"Of course, Mike, I'm glad you did. That's how I think of them." There was a long pause. "Er, as for that other business, I just wanted you to know I'm taking a step back from that. This is one time I'm not gonna get involved."

"Good call, Bob. You can't always be riding to the rescue, you know. I hope when the dust has settled I see more of you, Mark and the boys, and those other hunks you all live with. Damn you guys are something else – a construction worker, a cop, a leatherman, Marine, fireman, Ranger." He laughed, "I'm old enough to remember that group The Village People. They were hot but they couldn't hold a candle to you guys."

After a bit more small talk Bob hung up and said to himself, `Fuck you. Randy. Why do you have to go and alienate a great guy like that?'

But the coming week followed a pattern Bob was familiar with. Randy immersed himself in work, and life at home resumed pretty much as usual ... except for that invisible elephant in the middle of the room. The episode was not talked about and the boys especially, with the resilience of youth, quickly went on to other things.

But Bob was familiar with Randy's moods and was well aware that he was still nursing the hurt and guilt of what he had done. But true to his promise Bob avoided the topic. This was Randy's problem and he had to find a way to climb out of the hole he had dug for himself and make peace with Mike. But god knows how he'll ever do that, Bob thought.

Meanwhile, morning at the Grady House was still all peace and quiet. Danny took advantage of Brian's offer of preparing breakfast and slept in late with Mario. Mario knew that he himself was over-reacting to Grady's absence – he would only be gone just over a week, for heaven's sake. But it wasn't only that this was their first separation that made Mario miss him so much.

Mario was sure that Grady loved him deeply, but he was less secure about the total difference in their lifestyles – Mario a quiet landscaper, Grady a hot new movie star in the high pressure show-biz world of glamorous people, praise and adulation. So Mario clung to the safety and serenity of this house like a man adrift clings to a lifebelt – and Danny and Brian were an essential part of life here.

One inevitable sadness Mario had was an empty bed, but for that, at least, there was a solution. When he slept with Danny he fucked him as he always fucked Grady, and they both enjoyed it and each other, pushing from their minds the obvious implication that Danny was somehow a substitute for Grady. No, it was simply a need for human contact, the physical comfort of another man's touch ... and it sure beat jerking off all alone.

Brian waited until almost ten in the morning before loading two trays onto his wheelchair tray table and carrying them up to the bedroom.

Mario and Danny were still in bed, talking quietly, when Brian came in and Mario exclaimed, "Brian, amico. What? Breakfast in bed? No ... basta! ... enough is enough! This is so kind of you Brian but I'm starting to feel like the King of Naples – sleeping `til noon with a fleet of courtiers waiting on me. I must stop feeling sorry for myself and man up. Brooding over Grady and waiting for him to call è stupido."

"It's not stupid, sir," Brian said boldly. "That's why we're here ..." he blushed, "and we enjoy helping you."

"You're sweet, Brian, but at least you can join us for breakfast. You've brought so much food there's enough for three." Danny smiled, "And brilliantly cooked if I may say so."

So Brian pulled himself onto the bed and as the three of them attacked the food Mario pumped Brian for details of the group's trip to the desert. But he had only just embarked on the dramatic tale when Mario's laptop dinged and he rushed to open it. And there was Grady, Skyping from England for the umpteenth time.

"Ah," Grady said, "you're all there, my whole little family. God I miss you guys."

Mario detected in his lover's voice a more somber tone than usual. "What's up, amico?"

"Well, it's six in the evening here and we just got through shooting what they call the rape scene. You know, I told you I wasn't looking forward to it. It's where Tarzan goes back to his English roots as Viscount John. He's supposed to be this noble savage, but here he's much more savage than noble and he forces himself on one of the servant girls.

"It was a closed set with a restricted crew and we did a lot of takes. It worked great and the director was thrilled with it. But I think it worked too great `cos, like all good acting, it seemed almost real. The actress and I really got into it – I mean I played the savagery to the hilt and she acted real terrified. It was so intense it took us a while to recover as we hugged and congratulated each other.

"I never realized how tough it would be to play a rapist. One of the things that saved me afterwards was thinking of you, Brian, and the look on your face when we rehearsed the scene that time and I fucked you as the servant boy. I'm so glad you're there, dude, `cos I ..."

They watched tears come to his eyes and an anguished Mario said, "Well you're talking to us now, amore, and we all love you. You're so far away, but is there anything we can do to help?"

Grady grinned bashfully. "Well, yeah actually ... god this is gonna sound weird. See, if I were there, I would probably get over my angst by playing that scene again with me as the nobleman and Brian as the servant boy, only this time Brian would love it and smile at me with that smile that always melts me. It would be kind of an antidote to the repulsion I felt after playing that scene ... kinda like proving that forceful sex can sometimes be a good thing."

Mario smiled. "I have an idea where you're going with this, amico."

"Well, I'm not there of course but I was thinking that you could ... damn, seems so stupid now I'm saying it ... that you could take my place, Mario, and I could watch you and Brian ... like, the young Italian nobleman fucking the servant boy ... nah, that's stupid, I shouldn't ask you..."

"Sir, I would do it, no problem," Brian said impulsively. "I know what you mean ... like you've still got a bad taste in your mouth and we'd be like your mouthwash."

Grady roared with laughter and said, "God I love you, kiddo. How about you, Mario, and you Danny?"

"Sure, I'll be the cameraman," Danny said eagerly.

"Of course we'll do it, amico," Mario smiled gently. "But this will be all about Brian and me. We'll forget you're watching."

"Just the way I want it, buddy."

Danny got off the bed, removed the breakfast trays to a side table, then detached the camera and focused it on Mario and Brian on the bed, monitoring the action on the laptop.

Mario had slept naked but had pulled on a white linen shirt that hung loose over his chest. Brian pulled off his T-shirt and lay on his back. Mario smiled down at him, tugged Brian's shorts down over his feet and tossed them aside. Then he stood up, towering over the naked boy and his smile faded. Grady had wanted a stern Italian nobleman and that's what he got.

"Ah, mio ragazzo, you are mine now." Mario stroked his cock and it was hard in seconds. Brian stared up at him, mesmerized by the muscular Italian with his fine Latin features and curly black hair. Having spent years watching porn videos the boy had an innate capacity for fantasy and he had no trouble thinking of himself as the servant boy about to be used by his master.

He gasped as Mario shrugged off his shirt and stood over him naked, staring down at him lasciviously. He sank to his knees, flipped Brian over on his stomach and stroked the cheeks of his ass. "Bellissimo," he sighed. "It is mine, no? Your ass belongs to me, non è vero?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Mario bent down and licked the ass cheeks, then straightened up and slapped them lightly. "See how they bounce under my hand. Now I will fuck that ass, but I want to see your face when I slide my rod inside you." He flipped the boy on his back again, then reached to a side table, dipped his fingers into a tub of lube and greased his cock.

"You know what is going to happen to you, my little servant boy?"

"Yes, sir. You're going to fuck my ass, sir."

"It's called Droit De Seigneur – the right of a lord to fuck his servant ... like this." Mario took hold of Brian's legs, hooked them over his shoulders and pressed the head of his cock against his ass. "This is how it feels, boy ..." In one stroke he plunged his cock into the willing ass and Brian shouted, "Thank you, sir!"

"Mmm, such a warm, welcoming ass, my sweet boy. And it's mine to fuck whenever I want. You will be my fuck boy, there for me all the time, your only job to take my cock in your ass. And sometimes, when your master is feeling angry, he will vent his anger on you ... like this ..."

"Aaaah," Brian gasped as Mario fucked faster, ramrodding his cock hard in the boy's ass. The initial spurt of pain quickly dissolved as he gazed up at the handsome square-jawed face with high cheek-bones, dark curly black hair and stunning green eyes. He was getting butt-fucked by Grady's Italian lover, just as Grady himself had fucked him when he had played the servant boy as he was doing now.

The impressionable boy was lost in the fantasy – he belonged to this handsome young lord – he would surrender his ass to him whenever he demanded it. That fantasy was almost as exciting as the feel of Mario's cock pounding his ass and, when Mario leaned forward and pinned him to the bed, Brian felt the exquisite sensation of being a prisoner, impaled on his master's cock.

They were lost in each other's eyes, unaware of anyone else, even when they dimly heard Grady's voice saying, "Hold it still, Danny ... that's got it." Mario's body was pumping hard, but when he saw Brian wince as the pain returned he slowed down to a gentle massage of his ass.

"I will be good to you, ragazzo. I will treat you well so you will not fear me, you will fall in love with me. Do you want me to show you how I can make you do that?"

"Yes please, sir."

Mario bent forward so their faces were inches apart and his green eyes smiled into Brian's. "I think you already love me, amico, but just to make sure ..." He pressed their mouths together, opened the boy's mouth with his tongue and their lips sealed tight as they shared the same breath back and forth, tongues sliding together.

Whether it was love, lust, worship or all three it made no difference. Brian was floating in a sensual haze, the heat in his ass flamed into his cock, his body shuddered ... and he felt warm liquid spurting on his stomach. He was dimly aware that he had cum, just as Mario pulled his face back and smiled, "Now I will cum inside you, my young servant boy, and your sweet ass will be mine.

And for a minute, as he felt Mario's juice flow inside him, Brian closed his eyes and believed that it was all true. But he was soon jerked back to reality by Grady's voice groaning "Yeeeah!" He opened his eyes and saw that the laptop screen had gone cloudy. "Oops, sorry guys, I shot my load all over the lens. Just a sec."

He was apparently wiping it clean because his face came back into focus and he laughed, "Guys, that was perfect. Hell, I should write a script about a master and his servant boy starring you two, only next time it'll be a three-way with Danny. And in a week I'll be home playing the servant boy getting fucked by the big hot Italian stud.

"Thanks guys, I feel great. That did the trick. Now if it's not too cold, get on with your breakfast. I ordered room service just before I called you, so while we eat I want to hear all about Brian's trip to the desert. Mario tells me word on the grapevine is that things went great until a certain person lost his cool. So come on, Brian ... as Darius would say, spill the beans, dude."

And spill the beans Brian did. "Well, guys, it all happened like this ..."

So the workweek started on a high note at the Grady House, and Mario and the two boys looked forward eagerly to Grady's return on the weekend. But things were a little less merry at the tribe's compound.

Everyone went back to their normal work routine, and the boys maintained their usual light-hearted comradeship, friendly skirmishes and banter, though perhaps a bit less boisterous than usual. The junior ones, the three amigos Eddie, Ben and Brandon, huddled endlessly and speculated about what had become commonly known as Randy's big fight with Mike.

Bob quietly explained to the men – Zack, Hassan, Adam, and Jason – the gist of what had happened, and Brandon, of course, told his master Pete. And all the while Darius, always eager for gossip, kept the rumor mill buzzing. But nobody, man or boy, breathed a word about Mike to Randy, which left him in a way more isolated than the natural distance he kept from others.

He and Pablo closed ranks, master and boy against the world – not the first time that had happened. They worked closely together on the site, going in early and leaving late. And in the lunch break Pablo went to see Randy in his trailer office, closed the door behind him, and half an hour later emerged with the afterglow of sex and a sore ass.

Even Bob avoided the subject with Randy, but in all other respects was as loving and supportive as ever, knowing how badly Randy was hurting.

As the week went on the tension gradually eased and the issue receded in the tribe's collective consciousness. All except for Randy. Bob saw how much he had been shaken by his own behavior, and guilt still hung heavy on him, but as Bob had told him earlier, "You're on your own with this one, buddy. If you can find some kind of way out of it, great. But it's all up to you."

Being the consummate construction worker, Randy sustained himself with hard labor, but as the weekend approached even that solace would be less available. Late Friday afternoon Randy came home from work and, as he strode though the gate, inadvertently crashed into Brandon who had wheeled his chair a bit too fast down the ramp from the office.

"Oh, kiddo, you OK? You gotta watch the speed limit around here you know – and I should watch where I'm going." Brandon was a favorite of Randy's and he spoke to the boy with a warm smile.

"I'm fine, thank you, sir, no bones broken. Sorry, sir, I was in a hurry to get home to Pete."

"Of course you are," Randy grinned. "Let me see you out to your truck." He followed him out through the gate and watched while Brandon expertly pulled himself into the truck, folded his chair and stowed it behind his seat. "Good for you, kiddo," Randy grinned affectionately.

Before he started the engine Brandon looked out of the truck at Randy and said earnestly, "Sir, does it help at all if I tell you I love you?"

Surprised, Randy grinned, "Well yes, kiddo, yes it does. Helps a lot."

"Sir," Brandon frowned. "I had a big fight with my friend Eddie the other day. We said some real mean things to each other and after that we didn't talk again all day. I guess our pride was hurt but we still loved each other, sir. It's funny how you can say bad things to a guy and even though he's hurt and pissed-off he still loves you, even though he says he don't. That's a real strange thing, don't you think, sir?"

"Yes it is, kid, I guess it is ... real strange. But you and Eddie, you patched things up, uh?"

Brandon flashed a smile. "Oh yes, sir. We kissed and made up. Thick as thieves again. It was all stupid stuff anyway." He turned on the engine. "Have a great weekend, sir." He drove off, waving out the window.

Randy turned back to the gate with tears in his eyes and muttered, "Shit damn."

He said nothing to Bob that night but Bob could tell he was more pensive than usual. And in the morning he was gone. It was well before dawn that Bob turned over in his sleep, reached out for Randy ... and he wasn't there. Bob went down to the kitchen in the dark but he wasn't there either. He was nowhere in the house. He had gone.

It was Saturday morning and Mike was sleeping in late in the desert. Friday nights were always busy in the bar and he had stayed `til closing, then tidied up, counted the evening's take, and didn't get to bed until 3 am. He slept soundly and it wasn't until nearly eleven the next morning that he stirred and frowned, woken by a banging noise from outside. "What the fuck...?

Mike shook his head, rubbed his eyes and got out of bed. He walked to the window and did a double take. Out in the garden by the pool heater was Randy, in his work clothes – cargo pants, boots, tool belt round his waist, and his greasy old tank stretched over his chest. And round three sides of the pool heater was a sturdy trellis.

"What the...?" Then Mike remembered the conversation round the table last weekend when Mark had admired his garden and Mike had mentioned that he still needed something to disguise the ugly pool heater but hadn't got round to finding someone he could trust to do it. And he recalled Randy's words ... "Hell, we could do that for you easy. We'll take care of it next time we come out here."

Mike had regarded it a as a throw-away comment and, after their argument, it went clear out of his mind. And here the guy was ... and the job was almost finished. He watched as Randy worked hard, struggling with the last of the trellis panes. It was a job for two or three guys but Randy was tackling it all alone ... and succeeding.

"Jesus Christ," Mike muttered as he gazed at the construction worker. "The man's amazing ... and so fucking gorgeous. But he's still a fucked up mess." He tried to recall all the crappy things Randy had said to him and the insults he had hurled back at Randy, but he couldn't remember them. He could still remember the sock to his jaw, though, and he rubbed his chin.

But even the memory of that faded as he watched the tall, brawny gypsy, muscles flexing as he lifted the heavy trellis, his stubbled jaw clenched with determination, blue eyes piercing like lasers even from this distance. Mike flashed incongruously on a guilty boy frowning as he concentrated on a homework task set as punishment. But this was no boy, far from it, and Mike shook his head and said again, "Fucking beautiful."

The last panel was set in place and Randy hammered in the final nails. He walked round the trellis, testing its rigidity, then stood back satisfied and swung the hammer back in his tool belt. He was breathing hard and sweat ran down his face and muscular torso under the already-hot desert sun. "Fucking gorgeous," Mike muttered yet again under his breath. "But you're still a dickhead."

He pulled on jeans and a T-shirt and went out to the garden. Randy whirled round with a look verging on panic. "I thought you were still asleep."

"You look hot, boy, covered in sweat ... you wanna beer?"

"Look, I know you told me never to come back," Randy said gruffly, "but I promised to do this and I always keep a promise. That's the only reason I came. Anyway, it's done and now I'll get out of your hair."

"Boy, you are such an asshole. I said, do you wanna beer?"

"The back panel here opens so you can get to the heater and there's plenty of earth round it so you can plant a creeper or something."

"Don't be so fucking pig-headed, boy. Now I won't ask you again. Do you want a fucking beer?"

"Well, yeah, I ... I guess I could use a drink."

"Right ... follow me." As Randy walked obediently behind him toward the house Mike looked back over his shoulder. "You're still an asshole, though."

A hint of a smile creased Randy's lips.

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 323

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