A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 338 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER:

Ranger Pete gives his boy Brandon a hero's reward. They are joined in the desert by the macho Marine Hassan and his boy Eddie. "Look at that, dude," Eddie says to Brandon. "A pornographic wet dream." The proud, handsome soldier, his muscular body stretched in chains, is stripped naked, fucked, broken and humiliated, at the mercy of the leatherman and his boy. "Don't get any better than that, dude."

CHAPTER 338 – "BRANDON'S REWARD – RANGER V. MARINE"

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

Brandon was a very reluctant hero. He disliked being called a hero by his buddies just because of his independence and his ability to overcome all the challenges of life in a wheelchair. He said to his master, the Forest Ranger Pete, "I don't want to be called special' or brave' or anyone's hero. I just want to be an ordinary, regular guy like the other boys."

Despite Brandon's usually optimistic outlook on life, Pete knew that occasionally his awareness of being different from the other boys reared its head and triggered a melancholy mood for a while. But Pete knew how to handle that.

First he made spectacular love to his boy, and when it was over Pete laughed, "We did it, kiddo. I fucked your face and your ass, and mind-fucked you too. And you took it all. Damn, I love making love to you, boy." Then Pete presented Brandon with a new leather outfit and they took their bikes (Pete's Harley and Brandon's nifty motor-trike) out to the desert to visit their old pal Mike, the owner of a leather bar close to Palm Springs.

And that's where the drama happened.

Pete had gone out for supplies leaving Brandon alone with Mike in Mike's house. The older man went to swim his daily laps in his pool. But he slipped and hit his head and Brandon found him floating unconscious in the pool. Keeping his cool, and using a long-handled leaf skimmer and his considerable upper body strength, he managed to get Mike out of the pool.

All the boys had been trained in mouth to mouth resuscitation (the boys called it the kiss of life as it sounded sexier) and Brandon, still keeping cool and methodical, used the technique on Mike ... and it worked. He called the paramedics and they took over.

When Pete came home in a panic the paramedic explained what had happened. "Everything's fine now, sir. We'll take the gentleman to hospital for observation as he might have a slight concussion, probably overnight is all. As for the boy, all he needs is a pair of strong arms to help him back into his wheelchair, and then a hot drink. A medal wouldn't hurt either. He saved the guy's life. I would never have believed a kid in a wheelchair could do what he did. You should be mighty proud of him. He deserves a reward."

"Oh he'll get a reward alright," Pete grinned, and walked over to Brandon, lifted him off the ground and placed him in his wheelchair. As the paramedics wheeled Mike out on a gurney he looked up at Pete weakly and managed a smile. "Pete, that boy of yours just saved my life. That is one brave and special young man. Take good care of him, big guy. He's a hero." Pete smiled down at Brandon. "There's that word again, kiddo. But this time it's for real."

When they went inside Brandon got his reward as Pete made tender love to him. They were dozing later when the bedside phone rang ... it was Mike calling from his hospital room. "Hey, stud, you taking good care of that boy of yours."

Pete grinned, "I just fucked him if that's what you mean. But how are you, buddy?"

"Ah, I'm fine," Mike said dismissively. "They're all fussing around me here like a bunch of old hens, keeping me under observation' though god knows what for. They won't let me go home til tomorrow, so will you two be OK there?"

"Mike, we'll be just fine. Just take care of yourself."

"I can't get over what that kid did for me. Er, I hope you don't mind but I called Bob and filled him in on what happened before the tribe heard it from anyone else ... you know how their grapevine is." There was a silence as he hesitated.

"Er, there's another thing, and you're not gonna like this." It seemed that word of the life-saving rescue had already spread through this close-knit community and reached the local newspaper, The Desert Sun. "They lapped it up, it seems, so it's likely they're gonna write it up in the paper. But I know how Brandon likes to low-key everything so ... I'm real sorry, man."

"Ah, don't sweat it, Mike, we'll cope. Hell, if my boy can handle a body floating face down in a pool he can handle anything." They talked, and laughed, a bit more before Pete hung up and Brandon asked, "Handle what, sir?"

"Ah, nothing. I'll tell you later."

But he didn't have to. Just then Brandon's cell phone rang and he fished it out of his shorts pocket by the bed and put it on speaker so Pete could hear. It was Eddie, in full flood – one of those stream-of-consciousness monologues where he doesn't pause for breath.

"Dude! What the fuck you been doing, dude? Mike called Bob and he told the twins who mentioned it to Darius and it was off to the races ... it's all over the place. Man you are totally awesome, what a guy! ... and guess what! ... that newspaper out there is gonna run a story and you're gonna be a hero, dude ... well you always were my hero but now it's prob'ly gonna go viral and, well, you know how that goes.

"But here's the best part ... I told Hassan I gotta come out there `cos you've gotta have your best friend with you at a time like this ... to handle the press and stuff ... so he's gonna bring me ... I am his boy after all ... actually my hunky Marine was real keen on the idea ... I think he has the hots for Pete and wants to take him to that little house he has out there in the desert and fuck him ... or vice-versa ... whatever ... and anyway ..."

"Dude, cool it, will ya?" Brandon cut in. "It's great that you're coming and I can't wait to see you. But I'm in bed with Pete right now so call me when you know when you're coming, OK? Right now I gotta sleep. Love you, dude."

"Oh, sir," Brandon groaned as he shut off the phone. "Now the shit's really gonna hit the fan."

"Well," Pete grinned, "that's the price of fame, boy. It won't be so bad. Just do what Grady does. He's got all that fame stuff going on and he doesn't take it seriously, has fun with it. And it'll be great to have the guys here."

Brandon frowned uncertainly. "Eddie said Hassan's got the hots for you and wants to take you to that little hideaway he's got out here in the desert. He's got that dungeon thingy in the basement where he took Mark that time and Mark chained the Marine up and worked him over."

"Hm, sounds kinda hot. But I wouldn't do anything if you didn't want me to."

Brandon blinked hard and thought about it. "Well, sir, I guess I'd be OK with it – provided I got to watch."

Pete threw is head back and laughed. "That's my boy. That's my hero."

********************* Chapter 338 *********************

Pete and Brandon spent the rest of the day in the garden – a lazy day where they talked a lot and just hung out together. Pete read a book in the shade while Brandon puttered around doing gardening odd-jobs.

A wave of affection swept over Pete as he watched his boy dead-heading roses and trimming hedges from his wheelchair, with a look of total serenity. It was hard to believe that a few hours before he had been facing a critical challenge and saving a man's life. His resilience was obviously born of facing challenges all his life, Pete thought. The truth was that Brandon was in a state of blissful happiness spending the day with Pete, just the two of them in this quiet, bucolic setting.

The house phone rang often, with concerned friends of Mike asking for news. Pete fielded the calls politely, reassuring callers that Mike was doing fine, and deflecting questions about Brandon, aware of Brandon's preference for privacy.

They cooked dinner together, with Brandon in charge, giving Pete orders and confidently maneuvering around the kitchen. Mike had long ago made it wheelchair friendly, with shallow ramps in front of the counters and stove, for his nephew Brian, to encourage him during his visits to him in his wheelchair. After dinner Pete and his boy had an early night, made love and then slept with Brandon folded in the Ranger's arms.

In the morning, while Brandon cooked breakfast, Pete called the hospital and got a grouchy Mike. "I'm being a real pain in the ass here so they'll get rid of me as soon as possible. Battery of damn tests, nurses fussing around, lousy food. Anyway, they're gonna release me at noon, so I was wondering if ..."

"Of course we'll pick you up, Mike. Be nice to the staff, now. Don't slug anyone. That's Randy's territory, you know, not yours."

Mike was sitting on the edge of his bed when Pete walked into his hospital room, followed by Brandon. "Thanks for coming, Pete, now get me the hell out of here. If I wasn't dead when they wheeled me in I might be when they wheel me out – smothered to death."

Brandon rolled himself in and Mike's grouchy demeanor changed entirely. He looked at the smiling boy and his eyes teared up. "Come here, kiddo." Mike leaned forward and kissed Brandon on the lips. "Shit damn," he said, grinning at Pete. "This gorgeous kid had his mouth clamped over mine in the kiss of life and I didn't even know it. Not until after I threw up – a fine way say thanks for saving my life."

A nurse hovering nearby said, "Is this the boy who pulled you out of the pool and gave you mouth-to-mouth? But ... but how could he? He's in a ..." She bit her tongue. "Sorry, young man, I should know better, but it's not every day you hear about such a thing. I read about it this morning in the Desert Sun. You're quite the celebrity around here."

Brandon looked up desperately at Pete who said, "OK, guys, let's roll." It was standard procedure for released patients to be wheeled out of the hospital and, as a nurse pushed Mike, he turned to Brandon beside him and grinned. "So this is what it feels like. But I need someone to push me ... you take care of yourself ... and others ... saving lives and stuff."

They were a merry trio as they drove to Mike's house in Pete's truck – and then Brandon's phone rang. He looked at the screen and smiled. "Eddie. I knew he wouldn't lose any time." He put it on speaker so they could all hear the onslaught.

"Dude, we're on our way! Hassan had some leave coming so we've got a few days ... do you think Mike can find room for us? ... if not Hassan has that little place way out in the desert, except I think he was kind've keeping that for him and Pete, if you know what I mean."

They could all imagine Hassan smiling quietly beside him in his usual strong silent way. Brandon said, "Eddie, you're on speaker phone and I'm with Pete and Mike."

"Oh good," Eddie said unabashed, "three birds with one stone."

"And as the oldest bird around," Mike grinned, "I can tell you there'll always be a room for you and that musclehunk Marine of yours. You'll be good company for our hero here. Seems the newspaper wants to send someone to interview him later."

"Ah, well you've come to the right man ... see I know all about handling the press ... I've watched how Mario does it for Grady ... anyone wants to speak to Grady they have to go through Mario ... he's like his PR manager, press-agent, whatever ... and I can do that for you, dude ... you're gonna be famous, but don't worry, kid, I know how to deal with the paparazzi ..."

"Eddie," Pete interrupted, "just get your asses out here and we'll sort all that out when you get here. Er, tell Hassan I'm looking forward to seeing him ... and his house."

Brandon shut off the phone and Pete laughed, "That boy has delusions of grandeur. You'd think he was handling a rock-star or something."

"Well Brandon is a rock-star," Mike said. "He's a rock-star to me. And what was all that about Hassan and his house in the desert? Something I should know about?"

When they got Mike back to his house the phone rang non-stop. Most of the calls were from what seemed like every single member of the large leather fraternity in Palm Springs enquiring about Mike's health. But one or two were from reporters wanting to set up interviews and photo-ops with Brandon. While Brandon treated what he had done as all in a day's work, for others it was a perfect human-interest story – `brave boy in a wheelchair saves man from drowning'.

Mike fielded all the calls, comfortably ensconced in an armchair in a shady part of the garden at Pete's insistence. But Pete could see that Brandon was rattled by all the attention and wanted to get him away for a few hours, so he asked Mike if he would be OK on his own for a while.

"Pete, old buddy," Mike said. "Yesterday it was touch and go – dead or alive – but thanks to your boy I am very much alive and quite able to care for myself. Get Brandon out of here for a while. What about that bike run you talked about yesterday?"

"You read my mind, Mike," Pete grinned, and turned to Brandon. "OK, kiddo, time to get suited up and high-tail it out of here."

It didn't take long before Brandon rolled out of the house and Mike said, "Holy shit, boy, you look fucking hot in that outfit." Brandon was wearing the same leather gear he had worn coming out here the day before – boots, leather pants and a sleeveless, black leather muscle-T shirt. He grinned at Mike, put on his skull helmet and mirror glasses to complete the effect.

Pete came out behind him looking stunning in leather chaps over his jeans, and a leather vest flapping open over his muscular chest. "Come on, kid, let's unload the bikes off the truck."

"This I gotta see," said Mike following them out to the truck, where Pete lowered the tailgate that served as a ramp. Brandon swung into action. He wheeled himself up the ramp and up onto the flat platform of his adapted three-wheeler. He clamped the wheels to the floor and raised the trike's ramp up behind him. Confidently he gunned the engine, then reversed down off the truck and playfully circled Mike, kicking up dust.

Mike coughed, "Hey, watch it kid or the headline's gonna be, `Boy saves man from drowning then chokes him to death'."

Just then, to add to the noise and confusion, they heard a vehicle approaching and Hassan's jeep pulled up. Eddie tumbled out before it even stopped and ran up to Brandon. "Dude – damn you look hot – just like an action hero. But the pressure got too much for you, uh, the press and all? But you can't run away from it, dude. You're a celebrity – they're your public."

"Eddie," Brandon said firmly. "Let's get something straight. I'm not an action hero and I didn't save the planet. I was just a boy in the right place at the right time, doing what was needed."

Eddie grinned up at the men and waved his arm at Brandon. "How about this guy, eh? All that and modesty too. You can't beat it."

Mike brought things down to earth by clearing his throat and saying, "Er, hi, Eddie."

"Oh, sorry. Hi Uncle Mike, how you doing?"

"Doing just fine, kid. I mean, not dead or anything. Hell you don't change do you. Always the same when you lived out here ... talking nonstop except when your mouth was full of dick."

Pete had gone round the jeep to welcome Hassan. They shook hands and looked each other up and down. "Fucking hot, man," said Hassan, always a man of few words, eying Pete's leather outfit.

"Back at ya," grinned Pete, gazing at the muscular Marine in military fatigue pants, a frayed denim vest open over an old khaki tank top. Both men had instant boners in their pants.

Mike, as he was always quick to say, had been around the block more than a few times and he could size up a situation between men instantly. As a bartender he had subtly brought couples together when he saw that spark. And now he saw a spark between Pete and Hassan that was bright enough to set the house afire.

"Hey soldier," he said, shaking Hassan's hand vigorously, "great to see you still looking as hot as ever. We love the military round here – especially muscle-stud Marines. Listen, Pete and Brandon are about to take off on a bike run out in the wilds of the desert. So why don't you and Eddie come in, freshen up, then take off and hook up with them?

"I have a pretty powerful bike of my own – a BMW not a Harley like Pete's, but I reckon a BMW can beat a Harley any day of the week. Why don't you prove me right? I'd be happy to lend it to you for you and your boy and I've got a couple of spare helmets lying around. Hey, owning a leather bar I end up with all kinds of biking and leather gear. So what d'ya think, big guy?"

Actually all four of them could have hugged Mike for the suggestion as they themselves had harbored the same idea in one variation or another. Mike's plan covered all the angles and he had once again mastered the art of bringing men together. He knew Pete and Brandon wanted some time alone on the road together but after that he was equally aware of the chemistry brewing between the Ranger and the soldier.

Mike gave Brandon a surreptitious wink, knowing that the boy knew exactly what was going on. The strong, silent soldier expressed his enthusiasm under his usual stoic demeanor. "Yeah, thanks Mike," he said with a hint of a grin. "Sounds like a plan. How's it grab you, Eddie?"

"Grabs me by the balls and fucks me up the butt, sir," Eddie said with an irreverent grin. "Sounds awesome!" Eddie could already see himself on the back of a motor bike with his arms tight round the Marine's muscular body. And the four of them out in the desert? "I got a boner already, guys," he said out loud.

It's a date then, soldier," Pete said in a tone that mixed pleasure with a hint of challenge – which made Hassan's cock pulse even harder. "Should be easy to find us – just a couple of long deserted roads to nowhere. We could even check out that little hideaway of yours out there. Stop off for a beer break."

And so it was settled. Brandon revved his engine hard, impatient to be off. Pete put on his helmet, straddled his Harley, and Mike, Hassan and Eddie watched as they took off in a cloud of dust, with Brandon proudly riding his three-wheeler beside Pete – a leatherman and his boy on a bike run in the desert.

Out on the deserted road with nothing but sand as far as the eye could see in this vast expanse Brandon felt a magical sense of isolation and supreme happiness, with Pete riding steadily beside him. He fantasized that they were the only couple in the world, a boy and a man in love.

He had happily shrugged off yesterday's drama and the aftermath still unfolding. It was something he took in stride. His whole life had been a series of challenges and minor triumphs – it went with the territory. OK, so this one was by way of being a major triumph, saving a man's life, but in his mind he hadn't done anything anyone else wouldn't have done. It was over.

Oh yeah, they wanted to take his picture. Well, why not? Eddie was getting off on the whole thing and he loved to please his best buddy. So why not? But all he really wanted now was be with Pete. All he ever wanted was to be with Pete. Anything else was small potatoes. He looked over at his master and smiled.

Pete had some inkling of what was going on in his boy's mind ... he could tell from the joy in his smile. As he looked at him now, riding his bike so proudly, he realized that he had never loved anyone as much as he loved this boy, and never would. He gave him a thumbs up, opened the bike's throttle and surged forward on the road.

Brandon grinned – another challenge – and gunned his own engine so he sped forward alongside Pete and kept pace with him in a friendly race. He laughed with the joy of this ultimate companionship, sharing the same speed, the same warm wind blowing against their faces, a wind that caught his rippling laughter and swept it behind them where it was lost in the empty wastes of the desert.

They rode a long time like this, going nowhere on the road to nowhere, feeling as close as if they were in each other's arms. Brandon took his cue from Pete, accelerating into fast sprints, then slowing down and coasting together. The straight road finally curved round what had once been some kind of settlement, perhaps a ranger station, but was now a bleak, haunted space, and they found themselves headed back in the direction they had come.

And it was then that they saw a speck in the distance, a speck that grew quickly larger with their combined closing speeds. It was two men on a bike – Hassan with his denim vest flying out behind him, his khaki tank flattened against his body showing the outlines of his chest and abs underneath. And holding onto him as if his life depended on it – which it did – was Eddie, his arms clamped tight around the Marine's waist and a look of pure ecstasy on his face.

They throttled back as they came close and stopped in the middle of the road, an unlikely group of three bikes and four men in the middle of nowhere. "Hey, guys," Hassan shouted. "My own place is not far from here. Wanna stop by and kick back there for a while?"

"You read my mind, soldier," Pete grinned. "Lead on." Eddie flashed a meaningful grin at Brandon. Both boys had noticed the eagerness with which the men had embraced the idea and the hurry they seemed in to get to the Marine's desert hideaway.

So it wasn't long before, with Hassan in the lead, they drove through a small, sleepy village, just a few houses clustered round a convenience store with a couple of gas pumps. And a mile further on there was a small, remote house set back off the road. The convoy of three bikes pulled off the road and churned over the sandy track to Hassan's house.

They parked round the back of the house and dismounted, with Brandon as adept as any of them, wheeling back off his trike's platform and down the ramp to the ground. Hassan unlocked the kitchen door and, when they all went in, Pete and Brandon were surprised at how tidy everything looked.

Hassan explained, "I made a deal with Mike some time ago that his buddies could use this place – especially the basement – whenever they like, and in return they would keep the utilities on and the fridge stocked for whenever I dropped in. That's why the electricity is on, there's food in the fridge ... and the beer is cold. So what are we waiting for?"

A few minutes later the two men and their boys were lounging in the shade of the small back patio, each with an ice-cold beer. The boys sat close together, content to take a back seat and listen to the Ranger and the Marine, who seemed to be talking round and round a subject, fencing almost, without ever getting to the point.

"'Course," Hassan said with forced nonchalance," you've been here before when you and Zack came out to the desert on a bike run with Brandon and Darius. Shit, the way news gets around in this crowd everyone got to hear every last detail of what you all got up to."

"Yeah," Pete recollected with a smile. "That was some trip."

"You and, er ... you and Zack even spent time down in my basement, that right?"

"Oh yeah," Pete grinned, "we sure did. You know, they don't come any tougher than Zack – a real macho top man, the tough construction boss at work, and the muscular leather master at home. But Brandon had told me of one time when Zack was a bit drunk and had put on a show for Brandon of a hot black leather master in bondage getting off on himself in the mirror.

"So when we came out here, and we were sitting in this very spot drinking beer, Zack explained it to me. He had a theory that even a tough, macho top-man sometimes feels a deep masochistic urge inside him to get the same treatment he dishes out to others, an urge to feel what other guys feel when he works them over. It's partly narcissism, Zack said, getting off looking at himself in a mirror, watching his body writhe in bondage, his face grimacing in pain."

"So anyway, as you probably heard, we went down to your dungeon, I tied Zack up and worked him over real good – whipped him, fucked him – the works. And boy did he get off on that! Shot bucketsful before he finally gave in and begged for release."

"Yeah, I did hear about that," Hassan murmured in his deep accented voice. He was breathing heavily, running his hand unconsciously over his tank, over his hard nipples underneath. "And I guess you, er, you were both in leather at the time, just like you are now – two leather masters facing off, one submitting to the other."

There was a long silence as their eyes met in a penetrating gaze. And at last Hassan said what had been on both their minds. "You, er ... you wanna check out the basement now, Ranger?"

"Sure," Pete said simply and they both stood up. With a fiercely eager look in his eye Hassan went into the house, followed by a far more relaxed Pete who, before he left the patio, turned and winked at Brandon. "Enjoy your reward, kiddo."

Brandon frowned at Eddie. "What d'you think he meant by that, dude? I'm confused."

Eddie gave his know-it-all grin. "That's because you ain't been around as long as I have dude. When I worked for Mike in his bar I used to see it all. And Zack's right. Inside a lot of those butch leathermen there was a bottom-man screaming to get out."

"And are you saying ... even a Marine captain like Hassan?"

"Now you're getting it," Eddie chuckled. "Dude, you are not as dumb as you look." Brandon punched him in the shoulder and Eddie said, "No, seriously dude, you know the story about Hassan and Mark way back when they were on opposite sides in the Arab war and Mark was captured, chained up and interrogated by Hassan.

"But Hassan fell in love with the gorgeous blond soldier and years later when he came to the U.S. to find him, first thing he did was ask Mark to meet him way out here in this very place. And when Mark walked in, where did he find the Marine? Chained up in the dungeon waiting for the prisoner he had fallen in love with to take revenge."

Riveting as the story was Brandon had to smile, as he loved Eddie doing his wise-guy act like this, his eyes sparkling, his palms upraised as they were now.

"Dude, I know that musclehunk Marine better than anyone ... I mean, me being his boy and all ... and I know he sometimes wants a guy who's his equal to do what Mark did to him, and what Pete did to Zack right downstairs in this very place! That dungeon brings back memories, dude ... memories he wants to re-live."

Eddie sat back smugly, well pleased with his dramatic performance and the effect it was having on his buddy. But still Brandon frowned. "Well since you know so much, dude, tell me what Pete meant just now when he said, "Enjoy your reward."

Eddie sighed, "Do I have to explain everything, boy? You said you mentioned that story to Pete earlier about Hassan getting worked over by Mark. So what was his reaction?"

"Well, Pete said it sounded kind hot but he wouldn't do anything like that if I didn't want him to. So I kidded around and said I'd be OK with it provided I got to watch."

"And...?"

He just laughed and said, "That's my boy."

"Well there's your answer, dude. He wants to give you a reward for saving Mike's life so this is part of it ... letting you watch!" He shrugged, "And of course that has to include me too, me being your best buddy and Hassan's boy and all that."

"Oh, I dunno, Eddie. Think of you bumping me down the stairs in my wheelchair ... talk about a distraction."

"Kiddo," Eddie said airily, "what would you do without me? I know this place like the back of my hand, and if we go down that slope there behind the house there's door to a storage room that leads through to another door – to the basement. We use that and they won't even know we've come in."

Then he banged his palm on his forehead in frustration. "Shit, we should have brought Darius's camera from Mike's house, the one I gave you when you left L.A."

"You mean this one?" Brandon said innocently, leaning down and pulling the camera from his wheelchair's saddle bag.

"Dude, you're my hero. But you already knew that ... especially now you're this big celebrity hero and all. Here, give me the camera. I'm Darius's assistant so I'm an expert cameraman."

"Mm – an expert everything else too," Brandon smiled.

"Yeah, I guess I am," Eddie preened. "See that's why you're gonna need me to deal with the press when they ..."

"Eddie, can we just go? And try not to talk when we get to the room."

"Oh, gotcha dude." In his characteristic move, a wide-eyed Eddie dragged his fingertips across his lips and twisted them like a key at the end. They grinned at each other, two best buddies embarking on another adventure.

Eddie didn't even think about helping the always independent Brandon down the short hill, even though the track was steep and sandy, but he did hold open the door to the storeroom to let him pass. Inside they paused to get accustomed to the gloom after the glare of the sun and slowly became aware of the jumbled room with a path through the clutter to the door on the far side.

There was an eerie, almost ominous silence here and when they got to the basement door they listened hard. Still silence. What was going on in there? Were the guys even there? Eddie twisted the doorknob and edged the door open carefully, wincing at every squeak of the rusty hinges. They managed to make very little noise as they went in and settled against the wall in the shadows.

"Holy shit," Eddie hissed as their eyes focused across the room where overhead spots lit a scene that made their cocks jump in their pants. It was like a still-life, with no movement, no sound. Pete was sitting in a rough wooden chair, shirtless in motorcycle boots and black leather chaps over his jeans, and holding across his lap a cat o' nine tails, a whip with a dozen long stands of rawhide.

His gaze was fixed on Hassan who was in almost exactly the same positon he had been in when Mark had worked on his body all that long time ago. The Marine was in his fatigue pants and combat boots, with only the old sweat-stained tank over his muscular torso. His wrists were shackled, his arms stretched up in a V by chains attached to one of the ceiling rafters.

Eddie sat in on a bench against the wall beside Brandon in the dark shadows and Brandon instantly rested his hand on Eddie's in a gesture of support, thinking how the scene of his master in chains might upset the boy. But he was wrong. "Awesome, dude," Eddie breathed softly. "So fucking hot. Don't worry about Hassan, dude. He's getting off on this big-time. Just what he needed."

Whether or not the men were aware of the boys' presence they gave no indication, with eyes only for each other, their gaze fixed with a mix of lustful admiration and feigned animosity, the chained, muscular Marine captain at the mercy of the leather master.

The boys' fantasies kicked into high gear, mesmerized by the vision of the exotic Arab/Asian with his slanting brown eyes, square cut features and jet black hair, facing off against the all-American Ranger with his chiseled good looks, his muscles rippling as he began to tap the whip in his palm. Eddie would have liked to walk around with his camera, getting the dramatic shots Darius excelled in, but he knew he had to stay still and silent in the shadows with Brandon, his camera raised to his eye, trained on the action.

And almost as if he had just called `action' the scene began as Pete rose to his feet and walked slowly round his captive, tapping the whip in his palm. All the walls were mirrored which gave the men and the boys multiple views of the rugged Marine and his captor.

Pete spoke at last. "Hmm, you think you look pretty hot in chains, don't you soldier. Is this how my buddy Mark looked when chained him up and tortured him in that interrogation cell? But he paid you back good for that, didn't he, right here in this room – just like I'm gonna do. See Mark's a good buddy of mine and I don't like to think of him getting hurt by a big tough soldier like you. What did he do to you in revenge, stud? Something like this?"

He raised the whip and brought it down across Hassan's back, leaving a black rawhide mark on the thin tank. Pete had learned from Zack how to judge a man's pleasure/pain threshold and both he and Hassan knew he would take him only to the point where fantasy merged into painful reality. It was that raw sense of reality that brought a fantasy alive.

Always the stoic Marine, trained to withstand pain, Hassan made no sound, just clenched his jaw and looked defiantly at the Ranger, with a slight hint of a mocking smile. Pete was in no hurry and preferred verbal rather than physical torment. He hung the whip round Hassan's neck and stood behind him looking over his shoulder. Together they stared at the mirror image of the tall, rugged Marine captain, his body stretched in chains, whip round his neck.

Pressing his bare chest against the soldier's back, and the bulge in his jeans against his ass, Pete reached round and stroked his hands over the sweat-damp khaki tank top. "Shit, that chest is fucking awesome, man. I can feel those muscles rippling under your shirt. Look at that stud in the mirror ... turns you on, eh? I can tell `cos your fucking tits are hard as rocks." He squeezed them through the tank and watched Hassan's head roll backwards as he groaned a guttural, "Yeah..."

"Man, I wanna really work those tits." Pete tugged at the thin fabric and ripped holes over Hassan's nipples, then twisted them in his fingertips, using his nails, harder and harder until the pain peaked, Hassan writhed in his shackles and yelled "Aaagh ... aaagh ... fuck you!"

Pete stopped and grinned derisively, "Not made of steel after all eh, soldier? Even a proud Marine like you has his breaking point."

Hassan glared at him in the mirror. "Go fuck yourself, Ranger."

"So that's how you wanna play it, asshole. Only it's you I'm gonna fuck, Captain. All in good time. First let's get a real look at that body." Still reaching round from behind Pete grabbed the neck of the tank and ripped it open. The shredded fabric hung loosely from Hassan's shoulders exposing the slabs of his pecs, the ridges of his eight-pack abs and his slim waist cinched by the webbed belt of his military fatigues.

"Oh man, that fucking chest is just asking for it," Pete said, walking round to face the chained soldier. He pulled the whip from round the Marine's neck and lashed the rawhide strips lightly against the bare chest in short, sharp blows. Hassan gritted his teeth and winced at every blow. But still he remained defiant and growled, "That all you got, asshole?"

"Fuck you, man," Pete snarled and increased the force and speed of the whip across the chest and abs. The Marine flexed his muscles hard to withstand the lash and his grimaces grew more agonized with each blow until finally he broke and yelled, "Aaagh, no more. No more. I give up."

Pete stopped and the soldier hung his head in submission. Pete put the whip handle under his chin, pushed his face up and gazed into the slanted brown eyes. "See, Captain, I knew even you had your limits. I knew I could break you. But I think you got real turned on, eh? Let's take a look here."

He unzipped the soldier's pants and pulled out his cock ... massive and hard as steel. "Oh yeah, the big tough Marine gets off being chained and whipped. Look at that fucking cock rearing up like a pole. Let's see how it likes this ..."

He aimed the whip at the cock, curling the leather thongs round the thick shaft, yanking it off then striking a few more times. "Hell, will you look at that ... pre-cum dripping from your dick. I could probably make you bust your load just by whipping your dick, soldier, but you don't get off so easy. You know what I gotta do to you, Captain. So let's cut to the chase here."

Pete unbuckled Hassan's belt, yanked his pants wide open and let them and his shorts fall round his combat boots. He stood back and stared at the near naked Marine with just the shreds of his tank top hanging over his bare chest, his muscles rippling as his upstretched arms tugged at the chains binding him.

He walked behind him and stared at the globes of his ass, hard as steel, and said, "Yeah, that's what you really want, stud. And by god you're gonna get it. He lashed the ass a few times, just hard enough to leave faint red stripes across the white flesh. Then he tore the remains of his tank from his shoulders and it fell draped round his waist.

Pete hung the whip round Hassan's neck again, then went back to the chair, sat down and pulled his cock out of his jeans. It was already rock hard so he stroked it gently to avoid cumming at the homoerotic sight that met his gaze.

The macho Marine captain had been stripped naked except for the rags of his T-shirt round his waist and his fatigue pants round his ankles, pooled over his boots. His dark, square cut features grimaced, sweat running down his face and over his magnificent body, stretched by chains like a prisoner on the rack. His muscles flexed under the lights and, as he stared at himself in the mirror, his cock rose up from his mass of black pubic hair and dripped pre-cum.

"Yeah," Pete said as he stroked his own cock. "Look at that soldier – chained and whipped into submission, waiting to take the Ranger's dick up his ass. Fucking pornographic. That turn you on, Captain?"

"Hell yeah," Hassan groaned.

He wasn't the only one. The boys had watched breathlessly as the Ranger slowly demolished the handsome Marine. Brandon kept glancing anxiously at Eddie, but the Marine's boy was enthralled by the spectacle, knowing it was what his master craved. Stroking his cock with one hand Eddie managed to keep the camera steady with the other, knowing he was filming what Darius would call "one for the archives".

"You OK, dude?" Eddie hissed out of the side of his mouth, and a wide-eyed Brandon nodded eagerly. He had pulled his cock out of his leather pants and was stroking it slowly. "Don't cum yet, dude," Eddie cautioned. "Final act coming up."

Pete had stood up, his curled fist moving up and down his cock. "Soldier, you are so fucking hot I can shoot my load just looking at you. He stroked harder and Hassan shifted his gaze from the mirror to the musclehunk leatherman, shirtless in leather chaps, his cock rigid out of his jeans at the crotch-gap of the chaps. Hassan moaned hoarsely, "No, man, don't ... not like that."

"Why not captain?" Pete tormented him. "What should I do?"

Hassan gazed at Pete, then at the near-naked chained soldier in the mirror who pleaded, "Fuck me, man. Fuck my ass."

Pete grinned, "Shit damn, I always heard your Marines liked to take it up the butt from your buddies. So it's true. OK, soldier, if you think you can take a rod this big, let's go for it."

He reached for one of the many lube jars littered round the room and greased up his cock. He walked behind the chained Marine, pressed the head of his cock between his ass cheeks, reached round him and tweaked his already sore nipples. "So tell me again, soldier. What is it you want from the leather master?"

"Fuck me. I wanna feel your dick in my ass."

"Nah, you can do better than that, Captain. Try again."

"I need to get fucked in the ass. Please ... sir. Please push your rod in my ass."

"That's better. I do like to hear a big tough soldier beg to get butt-fucked. Like this ..."

"Aaagh!" The ranger's cock drove savagely deep into the Marine's ass, pulled out and slammed in again, and again, until it became a piston pounding in and out. Pete knew Hassan wanted it rough ... and knew he could take it.

He wrapped his arms round Hassan's chest and panted, "Feel that soldier? Feel that big Ranger dick pile-driving your ass while I rip your tits off. Come on soldier, let's see that gorgeous body struggle, stretched in chains. Oh yeah, that is fucking beautiful, man. Such a fucking stud."

The Marine stared wildly at the pornographic image in the mirror and the fantasy consumed him. In his delirium all he could see was a muscular Arab soldier writhing naked in chains, body stretched and helpless as his ass was pounded by the powerful leather master. He saw the chiseled features twisted in pain, the head thrashing from side to side, the black hair flying.

He saw the mouth open and heard the deep voice howl, "Yeah, fuck me, man. Fuck that soldier, make him sweat, make him hurt, make him beg ... make him bust that load. Aaagh! I can't take any more, sir ... I gotta cum ... I give up, man, I submit ... I'm gonna cum ... yeah, fuck me ... fuck me ... I submit, sir ... aaagh!"

His muscles flexed, his body tensed and tears poured from his eyes as his cock shuddered ... and exploded in a long stream of juice that hit the mirror and flowed down the glass. "Un-fucking-believable, man," Pete yelled. "Here it comes, Captain, here's my fucking jizz in your ass ... yeah ... yeah ... fuuuck!" Hassan howled and shot again as he felt the Ranger's hot juice filling his ass until it oozed out and flowed down his legs.

Pete stayed in deep, then suddenly yanked his dick out, making Hassan scream. He walked round to face him, and they stared wildly at each other, eyes blazing. Pete grabbed Hassan's head, pulled it toward him and crushed their mouths together in a ravenous man-on-man kiss that lasted long passionate minutes.

Pete finally pulled back and stared at the soldier in awe. "Unbelievable, man," he said again ... un-fucking-believable. But I want you drained, soldier ... I wanna see that body totally drained dry of every last drop of jizz in your balls." He jerked his head away and yelled across the room, "Hey, you two. Get your asses over here."

Surprised, but rising instantly to the occasion, Eddie lowered his camera, grabbed Brandon's arm and said, "This is it dude. We're on." He got up and stumbled across the room, followed close behind by Brandon, wheeling himself in a daze. Pete said, "Here they are, Captain – the two best cocksuckers on town, guaranteed to make any man bust his load ... even you, soldier.

"You, boy, you're first." He looked down at Brandon with that special smile reserved only for him. "Another reward, kid. Don't let me down."

"Thank you, sir," Brandon stammered. He wheeled himself in front of the chained soldier, leaned forward and sucked his still dripping cock in his mouth. This was one of the biggest cocksucking challenges he had faced, making a muscle-god Marine cum in his mouth minutes after he had just shot a massive load. He summoned up all the skills, every trick he had learned from Eddie and had used on his master Pete.

Hassan looked desperately at Pete and moaned, "I can't man ... no more ... I'm done, drained."

"I'll tell you when you're done, stud. My boy wants to suck a Marine's cock and I always give him what he wants." The Ranger folded his arms across his chested and taunted his captive.

"Look at the mirror. Look at that fucking beautiful man, shirt hanging in shreds, pants down round his boots, his spectacular body stretched in chains, at the mercy of the leatherman and his boy. A proud Marine captain, captured and chained, stripped naked, whipped, and butt-fucked by a leather master, forced to shoot a massive load of jizz and ordered to cum again in his boy's mouth. The macho stud soldier has been broken and humiliated, forced to get his cock sucked by the leatherman's boy. It's a pornographic wet dream, man."

As Brandon went to work, so did Eddie and his camera. Free now from the need to hide in the shadows he circled with his camera, using all the techniques Darius had taught him – close-ups, zoom shots, everything to highlight the drama of the scene. And he knew his best buddy could deliver. Hell, he had taught him everything he knew.

He was right. Urged on by the sight of the rugged leatherman staring defiantly at him, arms folded across his chest, Hassan was being driven wild by the sensation in his cock as it was worked on by the handsome young leather boy. His balls started to ache again, sperm filled his rigid cock and, "No, I can't ... I can't ... I ... aaagh!" The soldier came in the boy's mouth.

Flush with success Brandon swallowed the first spurt of cum, then pulled off and let the rest splash on his face as proof that the orgasm was totally real.

"Thank you, sir," he said, cum running down his chin as he gazed up at Hassan. Then he felt a camera being thrust in his hands and he wheeled away, yielding his place to the determined Eddie, his eyes sparkling as he faced the ultimate challenge.

He dropped to his knees before his master, lowered his face and kissed his boots in an act of worship. Then he gazed up and said, "I love you sir. I know I can do it, sir." He licked his lips, took a couple of deep breaths and lowered his mouth over the Marine's half-hard cock.

The exhausted Marine stared pleadingly at Pete and groaned, "No, man ... impossible ... I can't ... not again."

"What?" Pete smiled. "You don't have much faith in your own boy then. The kid boasts he can make any man cum any time, especially his master. You gonna let your own boy down?"

"Fuck you, man," Hassan growled, but this time with a trace of a smile in his eyes.

Eddie was already at work. This was his biggest challenge yet but he was not deterred. Of all the cocks he had ever sucked in his bar-back days in Mike's bar he had never failed and he wouldn't now. He was so confident that he even glanced up at the camera while he sucked and, eyes gleaming, gave Brandon a thumbs up.

That impish gesture diminished the dramatic intensity of the moment ... but it was Eddie being Eddie. And as Hassan saw it he smiled ... and relaxed. And that's all it took, that and about a minute of expert manipulation by Eddie's talented mouth. Hassan looked down at his boy, the mischievous, garrulous kid he loved like crazy and suddenly flashed on words spoken earlier by Mike. `Only time that kid stops talking is when he's got a dick stuffed in his mouth'.

Improbably Hassan began to laugh. His body shook, his cock shuddered and, against all the odds, he shot one last blast of semen down his boy's throat. Eddie swallowed hard and then, as Brandon had done, pulled his mouth off the cock and took the last spurts of cum in his face.

Triumphantly he turned to Brandon, and this time gave two thumbs up to the camera. Brandon pushed in for a final close-up of the beaming rascal face dripping with his master's cum.

And that was the end of the movie.

Pete quickly unshackled Hassan's wrist and the exhausted Marine fell into his arms – a man-hug between two rugged alpha males who had explored the boundaries of man-on-man lust.

Brandon tugged at Eddie's elbow and nodded toward the door. Time to let the men recover and decompress after their heavy sexual exertions. The boys went unnoticed to the door they had used before, made their way silently though the storeroom, up the sandy path and into the kitchen. And there Eddie broke the silence with an explosion of superlatives to describe the incredible scene they had just witnessed. "Thank god we got the movie, dude, `cos I could never find the words to explain all this stuff to the guys at home."

"You seem to be finding plenty of them right now, buddy," Brandon grinned as the two boys tidied the kitchen, ready for Hassan and Pete to give them the signal to hit the road. The men had just come up from the basement and joined them when Brandon's cell-phone rang and he looked at the screen. "It's Mike," he said, switching the phone to speaker.

"Hey, where are you guys? That must be some trip you took." ("I'll say," Eddie laughed.) "Are you on your way back `cos a couple of newspaper guys are coming to interview the local hero and take his picture? Don't leave me alone with them to vamp until the celebrity arrives, OK?"

"OK, Uncle Mike," Brandon grinned. "Sorry for the delay but we got ... er ... a bit tied up. But we're on our way."

It was a jubilant group of bikers that roared along the desert road – Brandon in the lead, followed by the triumphant Ranger Pete, and then the BMW bike ridden by the now shirtless Marine hugged tightly from behind by his boy, who had a whole new reason to worship his idol.

Mike greeted them effusively at the house. "Here you are at last, I was starting to worry." He grinned roguishly. "So which of you got all tied up? ... nah, don't tell me ... those stripes across the soldier's chest are a dead giveaway. I can pretty much guess what went down. Hell, a Marine and a Ranger who couldn't take their eyes off each other, two horny boys with a camera, and a desert dungeon with whips and chains. The story more or less writes itself."

"Just wait `til you see the video, Uncle Mike," Eddie gushed, "it'll blow your mind."

"Yeah, well talking of cameras, the first thing you gotta do, young Eddie, is get your buddy here ready for his close-up. The photographers will be here soon."

Eddie swung into action. "OK, dude, first thing is to get you out of that leather outfit and into something your public would expect a boy hero to wear." He looked at Brandon and stroked his chin. "Hmm, I think old shorts, loose T-shirt and unlaced sneakers."

Actually he was right about the look, even though he was playing his press-agent role to the hilt. When the reporter and photographer arrived Brandon looked like a dream subject. Even his blank expression they mistook for shy bewilderment, when it was merely his long-suffering desire to get all this over with.

With Eddie hovering in the background, `protecting his client', the session went well. Brandon coolly described the rescue from the pool (without the melodrama Eddie had recommended) and Mike expressed his heartfelt gratitude to "this brave boy". They took several shots of Brandon alone – smile, no smile – then with Mike standing behind him beaming.

Then Brandon said, "I'd like one with my best pal Eddie, `coz he taught me practically everything I know.' (He neglected to add "... about sucking cock", an omission that made Hassan and Pete sputter with laughter in the background.) So Eddie took his place crouching beside Brandon, his arm around him, eyes sparkling with pride and joy.

And that was a picture the two best friends would keep and treasure for the rest of their lives.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you guys, we're gonna have company," Mike said as they sat in the garden eating and drinking after the press had left. They had just heard the crunch of tires outside the gate, and when it opened in came the blond fireman Jason with his boy Ben, followed by young Brian in his wheelchair. There were whoops of delight from the boys who swung into an exaggerated greeting as if they had just been reunited with long-lost friends.

Mike smiled, "I've heard all about you `three amigos' and thought you should all be together, along with my nephew Brian, who I've gotta say is looking real great, kiddo – a changed man. Plus I can never miss a chance of drooling over the most gorgeous fireman on the planet. I'll jerk off looking at you later, Jason. But first, sit your butts down and eat and drink."

The conversation was raucous at first with the boys all talking over each other, but when they settled down they peppered Brian with questions about the Grady House. Brian was the houseboy there and they all wanted to hear the latest on Grady, the heartthrob movie Tarzan.

But Brian was subdued and seemed reluctant to answer questions. But finally he said, "You know guys, there's a rule that what happens in the Grady House stays in the house, and we're big on confidentiality. But ... we are kinda family here and, and ..."

He seemed to fold up and his eyes filled with tears. "Thing is, I'm not sure how much longer there's gonna be a Grady House, `cos Grady and Mario have had a massive fight and they're gonna split up for good. They've quarreled before ... I mean, who hasn't? ... even split up once for a few days ... but this time it's real bad and Danny, my boss who runs the house, is kinda devastated about it. He suggested I take a few days off out of it, so I came out here."

Mike squeezed his hand comfortingly as the tears flowed. "See, guys, I don't know what's gonna happen and ... and I'm real scared. I mean, I love those guys, they're my life, and when they split up and there's no more Grady House ... I mean, what's gonna happen to me?"

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 339

Author's note: In this chapter there are several references to past events that have an impact on the action here. If you are interested in going back and rediscovering them, here's a guide:

Chapters 91 & 92: Hassan's military interrogation of Mark Chapter 101: Mark's retaliation in Hassan's desert house Chapter 261: Zack admits his masochistic urges to Brandon Chapter 313: Pete dominates the leather-master Zack.

As always I welcome your comments and suggestions. E-mail me in confidence at rw6789@aol.com. Also I invite you to visit my Web-site www.atrialofstrength.com. Click on the green button at top right to browse all the chapter synopses. Enjoy