A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 368 By Rob Williams

CHAPTER 368 – "MIGUEL'S DOUBLE INITIATION"

IN THIS CHAPTER:

The new rugged top-man Miguel endures a double initiation into the tribe. First the black leatherman Zack forces him to stay with him. Tied to a tree, his shirt ripped to shreds, a leather collar round his neck, Miguel moans, "Damn, I want it so bad." Next Miguel submits to the gypsy boss Randy. "Fuck yeah, that's what I like," Randy growls, "a tough macho stud on his knees servicing the master's cock." _____________________________________________________________________

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

There was a new man in the life of Zack, the macho black construction boss and one of the tribe's senior men. Zack had recently reunited with Miguel, a man he had known briefly years ago, a handsome Hispanic top-man as dominant as Zack and, as it turned out, a match for boss Randy too.

Miguel currently worked as the executive sous-chef at a 5-star hotel down the coast and he had just arrived in L.A. on a week's vacation. He was an instant hit with the guys of the tribe. First he went to the Grady House and had sexual encounters with the young chef there, Danny, and with Grady, the hot star of the new Tarzan movie. Then he had a wild sexual reunion with Zack.

The big event was dinner that evening where he met the other senior men of the tribe and their boys. Miguel was the center of attention and, again, very popular with all the men. Except for Randy. The brooding gypsy boss had always been wary of new men joining the tribe, especially dominant men like Miguel, seeing him as a threat to his leadership and potential rival for the affection of Randy's lover Bob.

So throughout the meal Randy goaded Miguel with demeaning phrases like hotel cook,' immigrant', rookie', and so-called fighter'. Things came to a head when Miguel went to the bathroom and Randy followed him. The tension quickly escalated, with Randy challenging Miguel to a fight and Miguel backing off.

Miguel was a peace-loving, patient man, but he was very much an alpha male and, when pushed to the limit, his anger flared as hot as Randy's. He snapped, "Oh, give it up, Randy. Your insecurities and paranoia don't interest me at all. That's between you and Bob. I'm not looking for trouble but you've been needling me all through dinner, and I don't have to stand here and listen to any more of your bullshit. I'm getting back out there to be with my new friends, and you can do whatever the fuck you want."

But in the garden Randy threw a punch at Miguel and forced him to fight back. But Randy had underestimated him, as Miguel had been raised a fighter on the dangerous streets of his native Honduras and, to the shock of the onlookers, beat Randy almost senseless. And, in a final act of humiliation, Miguel fucked Randy's ass.

And that, for Miguel ended it all. "Guys," he said to the stunned group, "I'm sorry about this – sorry I ever came into your lives. It was all a mistake, I see that now. I came from a quiet life and walked into all this fucking craziness. You're a great bunch of guys but it's impossible for me to stay here. I've poisoned the well, brought only trouble to your tribe and I know I can never be accepted now. So I'm outa here, back to the sanity of the world where I belong." He turned and strode out through the gate.

In the ensuing pandemonium Zack stood up totally bewildered. He stared down at Randy, his fallen brother, then looked at the gate through which the man he loved had just left. Confused, he sought advice from Bob, who said, "Zack, if you really love that man who just walked out, go to him, buddy. Don't let him leave – do whatever it takes. I'll sort this mess out. Go to him, now!"

Zack ran out across the street and into his house where he found Miguel stuffing his clothes into his bag. "Don't, Zack," he said without looking at him. "Don't say anything. I gotta get out of here, this was all wrong. I'm sorry, man. It's over."

In desperation Zack followed him out to the garden and grabbed him. "No, Miguel – no you can't leave. I love you man ... we love each other. Please, man, don't leave. Please."

But Miguel broke away and headed for the gate. "No!" Zack howled. "No, dammit. I won't let you." He grabbed Miguel and pushed him back against a tree.

"Don't do this, Zack, please. I gotta go. Just let me leave."

In a panic Zack looked around desperately and saw a rope hanging over a branch above his head. He snatched at it and pressed his powerful body against Miguel's, trapping him by squeezing him against the tree. As Miguel struggled in vain Zack shoved his arms back round the tree, wound the rope round his wrists and pulled them tight.

"Fuck you, Zack," Miguel shouted. "You think you can keep me here against my will by tying me to a fucking tree?"

"If necessary," Zack said, "I'll keep you tied up forever." He spotted the collar on the grass they had used earlier, picked it up and buckled it round Miguel's neck. "You know what that means, stud. It means you belong to me ... you're mine." His voice softened. "Man, all those years ago I let you walk out of my life. I'm damned if that's gonna happen again."

He clamped his hands on Miguel's face and kissed him ferociously. "I love you, man. I need you. Forget all that other bullshit. We can have a great life, we can. All those things we talked about, the things we were gonna do together. Here, let me show you. I'll be right back."

He disappeared into the house, leaving Miguel alone, his head spinning. Struggling against the ropes he groaned, "Damn ... this is a fucking nightmare." It was a nightmare from which he wanted to wake up, so he breathed deeply, rested his head back against the tree and closed his eyes. For long minutes he tried to create a dream of Zack and all the things they had done, forcing himself to believe that when he opened his eyes it would all disappear as dreams do.

But when at last he did open his eyes the dream became a fantasy. There was Zack standing across the garden from him, legs apart ... and in full leather – the boots, leather pants, heavy belt, a studded harness crossed over his chest and a black leather vest hanging open over it. And he was holding a whip, tapping it in the palm of his hand.

Zack was staring at him in awe, at the tall, handsome dark-haired Latino in jeans with the shreds of his ripped T-shirt hanging over his muscular chest. He was a prisoner, tied to a tree, a collar round his neck. Zack had captured him, stopped him from escaping, and now had him helpless, at his mercy.

Dazed, Miguel dropped his head forward in silent acceptance of his situation. Zack walked forward, pushed the handle of the whip under his chin and raised his head, forcing him to look into his gray eyes. "I'm not gonna let you go, man. Not gonna happen. You're mine."

He wound the whip round the back of Miguel's neck and pulled it slowly so the bound man felt it sliding round his neck and falling on his chest. "And something else. When I've finished with you you're gonna be begging me to let you stay." He reached down and felt the shape of Miguel's rock-hard cock stretching down inside his jeans. "Good, I knew it – that's a start."

Just then they heard the ring of the house phone. "Saved by the bell, mother fucker," Zack grinned. "But only for a while." He draped the whip round Miguel's neck again and let it hang down over his chest. Then Zack went inside leaving Miguel alone and helpless, his shirt ripped to shreds, wearing a leather collar, with a whip hanging round his neck.

Miguel thought of the black leather-master and groaned out loud. "Damn, I want him so bad."

The phone call was from Bob, and Zack told him he had stopped Miguel from leaving. "How did you manage that?" Bob asked.

"Tied him to a tree," Zack grinned.

"Well," Bob smiled, "that's one way to do it I guess. I leave all that to you, Zack. I'm trying to do what I can over here, mend some fences." He chuckled. "After so many years with Randy I'm a champion fence mender. Pablo's with him right now and he'll be fine. You know Randy, tough as old boots. I'll deal with Randy, and Mark's being a rock as always. So all you have to do right now is take care of your man. And keep him there, Zack, whatever it takes."

"Oh I fully intend to," Zack grinned. "I'm gonna take care of him right now." He thanked Bob, shut off the phone, and went back out to the garden.

************************ CHAPTER 368 **************************

When Zack reappeared in the garden Miguel stared hard at the muscular black man with his rugged sculpted features and shaved head. Miguel's cock pulsed in his jeans but, as he struggled against the ropes binding his hands behind the tree, his anger suppressed his desire.

He growled, "Listen, man, I've had all I'm gonna take of this shit. I'm done with this whole crazy setup, that whacko nut job across the street, even you, man. When I get free I'm not gonna fight with you, I'm just gonna get the fuck out of here and get my life back. So cut me free right now and we'll call it quits. That's an order."

Zack's fear of losing Miguel merged with his anger at being given orders and he strode across the garden, ripped the remaining shreds of Miguel's T-shirt off him, slid the whip from around his neck and lashed it across his bare chest, making him howl with pain. "Fuck you, man," Zack yelled, "I told you I'll never let you leave. I'm fucking on love with you, man."

"Well you have a weird way of showing it, asshole. What, you gonna whip me into submission?"

"If that's what it takes, yeah." Another lash, then another, making Miguel grimace in pain. "See how that feels, stud? That's gonna be your life until you give in and accept me as your man."

"You're a sick son-of-a-bitch," Miguel shouted. "If you think I'm the kind of guy who can be whipped into submission you don't know me. I'm tougher than you think."

"I don't believe it," Zack growled, his voice cracking, wanting desperately not to believe that Miguel would leave him. He came close, grabbed Miguel's crotch through his jeans and felt his rock hard dick. "See that? See that?" he said wildly. "You're lying. You say you don't want me but your dick tells another story – the true story. Maybe I can convince your cock."

Zack stood back, raised the whip and aimed for the bulge in the prisoner's jeans, lashing it again and again. "Aaagh ... "Fuck ... fuck you ... aaagh ...," Miguel sobbed in anger and frustration as he felt his cock swell in his pants and come close to orgasm.

Miguel's sobs startled Zack and made him suddenly realized what he was doing – he was hurting the man he loved, whipping him, making him sob in pain. Zack was close to panic now, working on fear-driven instincts, and he moaned, "Oh fuck, I don't wanna hurt you, man. I love you." He pressed his mouth roughly on Miguel's and squeezed the bulge in his jeans. But his cock was sore from the whipping and he flinched and pulled his mouth off Zack's.

"Oh shit, I hurt you again. I don't wanna do that." His anger fading into guilt and sorrow Zack dropped to his knees and licked the denim over Miguel's bulge in a pitiful attempt to soothe his cock underneath. "I never meant to hurt your cock, buddy." He pulled the jeans open, gently pulled out the rock-hard, shuddering cock and licked it gently, then lowered his mouth over it and swallowed it all the way down.

Manuel looked down at the powerful black leather-master on his knees before him, at his broad shoulders under the leather vest, his shaved head and rugged face moving slowly back and forth as he sucked his cock in a humble act of contrition.

And at that moment Miguel knew he could never leave Zack. The natural anger of a proud alpha male at being demeaned and attacked by the savage gypsy now abated as he looked down at the very opposite – a top-man on his knees, making amends, subjugating himself in an act of love.

As Zack swallowed the thick shaft he heard the deep voice moan, "Zack, I love you, man."

Zack pulled off and gazed up at handsome, tortured face staring down at him. He got to his feet and they stood staring at each other, one a rugged black man in full leather, the other a muscular shirtless Hispanic with swarthy square-cut features and a heavily stubbled jaw, tied helpless to a tree. Their eyes met and they knew they would always be together.

Miguel glanced down at the whip Zack had discarded on the ground then locked eyes with him. "Zack ... make love to me. You know what I need." Zack shrugged off his vest, picked up the whip and stood there – a pornographic icon in boots, leather pants stretched over his muscled thighs, his slim waist cinched by a heavy belt, his sculpted chest crossed by a studded black leather harness.

"Oh shit, man," Miguel groaned, "that looks so damn beautiful. You know what I need, Zack."

Zack raised the whip and brought it down gently across Miguel's bare chest. Miguel moaned, "Yeah, let me feel it Zack." Zack knew how to excite a man without really hurting him, bringing him right up to his pain threshold and then, for a split second at the end, taking him over it.

Now he whipped Miguel's chest with a quick succession of sharp lashes that drove the bound man wild. Miguel looked at the muscular leather master, felt the sting of the lash and knew that this is what he had always wanted. It took Zack to unlock the craving he had buried for so long.

Zack was making love to him with the whip, bringing him to the cusp of orgasm again and again. He said, "I knew you would never submit to me being whipped in anger. I love a man with that strength. But now I want you to surrender out of love, Miguel – show me you'll never leave me."

Suddenly Zack switched targets and aimed for his cock, whipping it lightly, wrapping the whip round it, pulling it off and striking again. Miguel had not expected this and it drove him to flights of ecstasy, his body flexing, muscles rippling as he pulled at the ropes, his stubbled face wincing in a pain he welcomed.

And that was when Zack took him over the limit with a sharp crack of the whip round his cock that shocked him, his eyes opened wide and he yelled, "OK, I give up, I submit ... I love you, man ... I fucking love you ... I'm gonna cum ... yeaaah!" His cock exploded, sending long ribbons of cum across the garden, splashing down in the grass.

Zack threw down the whip, came up to the shuddering man and kissed him passionately. Then he took off his harness, ritualistically draped it over Miguel's chest and clipped it in place. "Perfect fit for my man," he smiled. "Now get on your knees, buddy."

Miguel slid down the tree, his bound wrists sliding down behind it, until he was kneeling, looking up at Zack, towering over him stripped to the waist, his ebony flesh gleaming in the dappled sunlight. Miguel knew what was coming. Zack yanked open his leather pants, pulled out his iron hard cock and stroked it. "You want it?" he smiled down at Miguel. "You wanna drink your man's jizz?"

Miguel grinned, "What d'you think, stud? Give it to me." He stared at the massive black cock and opened his mouth as jets of semen spurted from it, into his mouth, over his face and neck and running down the harness on his chest.

Miguel gulped hard, savoring the bitter-sweet taste of Zack's sperm and then Zack knelt down to face him. "So," he smiled, "if I untie you, you gonna run away from me?"

Miguel shrugged and grinned, "That's a chance you're gonna have to take, big guy."

Zack reached round the tree, pressing against Miguel and deliberately smothering his face in his sweaty armpit hair. He untied the ropes and Miguel's wrists at last fell free.

"So," Zack said, "what d'ya think. We gonna make a go of this?"

Miguel smiled. "Mother-fucker, you know I would never leave you. And when I saw you in leather like you stepped straight out of a porn flick, that clinched it. `Course, you realize that when a man like me takes a whipping, there has to be payback time. What d'ya say to that?"

"I say bring it on, you son-of-a-bitch. I'm ready."

"And that's a wrap!" came the sudden voice of Darius. They had been so engrossed in their intense scene they hadn't noticed Darius in the shadows ... with his camera.

"Shit damn, boy, you been filming all this?"

"It'll make a great scene, sir, "Darius grinned. "I'll call it `Reconciliation.' I knew you guys would never split up. Hell, I've slept with you both, remember? And what would happen to me if you did? I'd be like one of those kids of divorced parents who spends weekdays with one and weekends with the other. Nah, this here reconciliation video is a keeper – one for prosperity."

"Don't you mean posterity, Darius?"

Zack chuckled, "Don't even go there, Miguel. The guy is beyond correction. But who needs good grammar when you've got a body and a dick like his? Join us for a nightcap, kiddo?"

"A quick one, sir, but then I've gotta get back to Pablo and patch things up with him."

So the rift between Zack and Miguel had been healed in dramatic fashion. But the turmoil in the tribe had given the pendulum a mighty shove and it was still swinging wildly. And of course, as usual Bob was not only the ringmaster of the circus, trying to keep everyone in line, but the aerialist too, trying to keep his balance in the high-wire act that was always necessary when Randy lost his cool.

When the fight had ended Bob's first act had been to make sure that Zack did not let Miguel run away in a fit of justified rage over Randy's unprovoked attack on him. A rupture like that would have been hard to mend. Bob's first rule when chaos erupted in the tribe was `keep it in-house'. He felt sure that Zack could persuade Miguel to stay, a confidence that was justified, it seemed.

Bob's next task was to heal the breach that had opened up between Randy's boy Pablo and his lover Darius, who was Zack's boy and Miguel's new friend, which put them on opposite sides. When the fight was over Pablo had knelt next to the fallen Randy and, when Darius had approached to help, Pablo looked up at him with tears in his eyes and said, "Don't touch him. This is all your fault for bringing that asshole here."

So now, after Randy had pulled himself unsteadily to his feet and Mark had helped him up to the master suite, Bob pulled the boys aside and said, "Look guys, I know right now you see yourself as on opposite sides of all this. Randy's your dad, Pablo, and Miguel is Zack's new man and Darius's friend. But I don't want any more shattered relationships in this house, especially the one between you two that has lasted so long. I know you still love each other so, Pablo, before you go up to Randy I want you to at least shake hands."

Darius looked at Pablo and managed a grin. "You know I still love you, kiddo, nothing's ever gonna stop that. So how about it?" He stretched out his hand but Pablo hesitated. He looked at Bob's warm, encouraging smile, then shrugged, shook Darius's hand and mumbled, "Love you too, dude." Then he ran into the house to be with his hero while Darius went across the street to Zack's house – with his camera.

"Now for the clean-up." Bob turned to Jamie. "Jamie, would you mind helping the twins clear away the remains of dinner and tidy up the garden? I think it's important that we don't leave any physical scars of battle. Heaven knows the emotional scars will be a lot harder to erase.

The three boys went to work willingly as Mark came out of the house, sat down with Bob and poured them both a brandy. "You OK, Bob?" was Mark's first concern. He was in love with Bob and was always concerned that the volatile Randy would cause him emotional – and god forbid even physical – harm. Mark loved Randy too, except when he went off the rails like today.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, buddy – thanks for asking. We've been here before, though I'm sad that we involved a newcomer to the house."

"No we didn't, Bob ... Randy did that all on his own. He owns this mess. You and the other guys were warm and welcoming to Miguel so don't feel any guilt on that score. Anyway, Randy himself is feeling enough guilt for all of us. You know how he is after he flares up like this. He realizes how irrational he's been and can't forgive himself."

Mark paused for a sip of brandy. Then, "It's not that he minds so much getting beaten in a fight but this was by a new guy in front of everyone – his boy Pablo who worships him as his hero, you who love him, Zack who Randy respects as a brother. He knows it was all his fault and feels totally humiliated. It'll take a long time for that to go away."

Bob sighed deeply. "Whew, what a mess. Thanks for all you've done and for being here, Mark. I have to go to him now."

Mark smiled, "That's the best medicine a guy could have, old buddy."

When Bob opened the door of the master bedroom he was greeted by the heartwarming sight of Pablo hugging Randy as he lay resting on the bed. "You're my rock, kid," Randy was saying. "Always have been."

"Well you're my dad, sir – my hero."

Randy looked up and saw Bob standing in the doorway. "OK, Pablo, I think I'm about to get an earful from Bob, so why don't you go down and make your peace with Darius. I don't want all this to come between you two."

Pablo scuttled away, murmuring, "Bye, sir," to Bob as he squeezed past him. Randy said, "OK, man, let's have it. You've come to tell me I'm a fucking asshole who's fucked up again. Well I don't need to hear that from you again. You gotta cut me some slack, just because I took a swing at a guy and ..."

"Hey, hey, you don't need to attack me too, Randy. I'm the good guy here. I'm not your problem, I'm trying to be part of the solution. God knows I've been cutting you slack ever since I've known you." Bob knew very well that Randy's belligerence was a fake to mask his feeling of guilt and insecurity.

"Yeah, OK," Randy said sullenly. "But I did fuck up, didn't I?"

"Pretty much," Bob grinned. "But part of it's my fault for having you meet Miguel at a dinner like that where you saw how popular he was with all the guys. But surely you didn't think that Miguel threatened your status as leader of the tribe? I still can't understand why you took such a visceral dislike to him."

"Uh," Randy grunted dismissively. He looked into Bob's soft brown eyes and knew he could hold nothing back from the man he loved so deeply. "You wanna know the truth? It was partly because Pablo and the twins seemed to like the guy so much I had the crazy idea he could break up my family. Plus my pal Zack was so crazy about him.

"But mostly it was you, of course. I mean, you met him first at the hotel, slept with him and had sex with him, and when you greeted him and hugged him I could see how much you still liked each other. I couldn't ignore that threat so I had to make things clear to him and, well, one thing led to another and ..." He looked pitifully at Bob. "Man, when I asked you if he had fucked at that hotel you said no, but ... but what did he do to you?"

Bob chuckled. "It's more what we did to him. The boys made love to him – you know their thing – made love to each other then to him and gave him twin blow-jobs. And later when we went to bed I jerked off over him and that made him cum too."

Randy managed a grin. "Yeah I bet it did. Always works for me." Then he got serious again. "Shit, I made a total ass of myself didn't I? I've insulted Zack by attacking his new man. The guy probably thinks we're a bunch of nut jobs and he's left Zack for good.

"I don't think so, Randy. Zack made him stay by tying him to a tree."

Randy chuckled. "He did? Yeah that's Zack alright. But Bob, I can't face Zack right now – can't face anyone. The whole fucking story's everywhere by now. I need to be on my own, to think."

"Good idea, Randy. Take a couple of days off work. The twins will take good care of you here."

"No, buddy. I mean really on my own. I need to get away to a place I can think. The lake! That's it, I'll go fishing up at the lake."

"You want me to come with you?"

Randy squeezed Bob's hand. "No, buddy, not this time." Then that pitiful little-boy look was back that Bob knew so well. "Man, all I need to know is that we're still OK ... I mean, you're gonna stick around ... not leave me or anything."

Bob gave a full-throated laugh. "Randy, now you really are being an asshole. How many times have I told you that we're solid as the Rock of Gibraltar? No, I could never leave you no matter how crazy you got. You could set the whole goddam place on fire and I wouldn't leave you. So can we finally lay that one to rest?"

"Damn, I love you so fucking much, Bob. Will you sleep with me tonight, and I'll leave first thing in the morning?"

"Will I sleep with you? Don't I always? Where else am I gonna sleep except with the guy I love ... the guy who drives me crazy sometimes, but the guy I could never live without." Bob quickly stripped naked and said, "Shove over, big guy." He climbed in bed beside him and Randy folded his arms round him and held him tight.

Next door Pablo was alone in the apartment he shared with Darius when there was a knock on the door, it opened and Darius put his head round it. "Hey, dude," he grinned at Pablo, "can I come in? Friend or foe?"

Darius always made Pablo smile and he now said, "Oh for fuck's sake, get your black ass in here, dude, and that ten-inch schlong of yours. I think I need them both."

Darius bounced in and his eyes sparkled as he waved his camera. "I just came from Zack's house and, dude, you will not believe ..."

Pablo knew he was in for a story and said, "OK, stud, come to bed and tell me all about it."

Early next morning Randy was reluctant to disentangle himself from Bob's arms but he knew he had to put some distance between himself and this house, which still reverberated with the painful vibes of the evening before. Bob stirred with him and said, "I'm gonna go see the twins."

The twins were always the first to wake up in the house to prepare the breakfast for whoever was home for it. But today Bob had an urgent request. "Guys, Randy is gonna go up to the lake by himself for a day or so, so could you pack up some food for him? You know the kind of things he likes ... maybe even some stuff he can cook for himself on the barbecue."

"No problem, sir," Kyle said, unfazed as always by last-minute requests, especially when they came from Bob.

"And after that, when you've rustled up breakfast for the guys here d'you think you could bring something across the street for Zack and Miguel? I'll join them when I've seen Randy off and ..." Suddenly his eyes teared up as the tension of the night before caught up with him, plus the thought of watching a tormented Randy go off on his own.

The twins came to him and kissed him. "Sir," said Kevin gently, "leave everything to us. And of course you know, sir, everything will come out alright. It always does." The cool, unruffled efficiency of the twins reassured Bob and he hugged them both. "I'm so glad I have you guys," he smiled brushing away his tears. "And you'll join us at breakfast across the street eh?"

Half an hour later Randy was out by his truck ready to leave. The twins had piled him up with supplies and both kissed him shyly. "We love you, sir," said Kyle. "And so does Bob," Kevin added. "You should never, ever doubt that, sir."

"They're right," came Bob's voice from the gate. "You know the twins are always right," he grinned. He hugged Randy tight. "Take care of yourself, big guy. I'll miss you. Don't forget, we all love you and need you. So don't stay away too long."

Randy pulled himself up into his big truck, the rowboat and his fishing gear stowed in the back, and sped away. The twins went back to the kitchen and Bob walked across the street. In Zack's garden he grinned when he saw ropes lying everywhere and the collar and whip discarded in the grass. Zack had obviously done his stuff last night.

He went inside and knocked at the bedroom door. "Come in!" He opened the door and saw Zack and Miguel lying naked in the bed, the floor littered with leather paraphernalia – boots, leather pants, harness, vest. "Not interrupting anything I hope?" Bob said.

Zack gave his dazzling smile, "Nah, everything's turned out fine, buddy." Bob raised his eyes questioningly at Miguel who looked down at the paraphernalia on the floor and grinned. "Yeah. Zack ... er ... persuaded me to stick around."

"So I see," Bob chuckled. "Yeah, Zack does have a way of ... shall we say ... bending a man to his will. If it's OK with you I've ordered breakfast for us all from the twins. They'll be here soon."

They made small talk for a while, avoiding the topic on everyone's mind, and pretty soon the twins appeared in the doorway. "Breakfast is served, gentlemen," Kevin said. They had wheeled their food cart across the street and set up the breakfast table in Zack's garden. They joined the three men round the table and it was Miguel who first broached the main subject.

"Er, Bob ... how, um ... how are things across the street?" he asked hesitantly.

"Pretty much business as usual," Bob smiled. "This ain't our first time at the rodeo, Miguel. I've had to clean up worse messes than this in my time. Sometimes I feel like the guy who walks behind the circus parade with a shit shovel to clear up the elephant mess. Anyway, Randy has gone fishing for a day or so to, as he calls it, clear his mind and think things out all on his own."

"How is he though, Bob? Is he OK?"

"Physically sure. The man has a cast-iron jaw. He's been in so many fights he just gets up, dusts himself off and gets on with his life. Emotionally it takes a bit longer. What I'm suggesting is that, when he gets back, Randy, you and Zack have a session with our own Doctor Steve. Steve is a therapist and has held shrink sessions with most of our guys at one time or another.

"He also happens to be Randy's long lost brother. Randy was only a year old when Steve was born and their overwhelmed mother gave him up for adoption. Steve was raised by a well-to-do family up north in Marin County, leaving Randy to fight for himself, and later his five younger brothers, on the hardscrabble streets of West Texas.

"Physically they resemble each other a whole lot, but the similarity ends there. Steve is the sophisticated Beverly Hills version of the fist-swinging gypsy Randy, with what Randy calls `medical diplomas up the ass'. When, just a few years ago, they discovered they were brothers Randy hit the roof and subjected Steve to his own savage, sexual version of brotherly love. His attack on you yesterday had nothing on what he did to Steve, but they patched things up."

"Well thanks for that heads-up, Bob," Miguel said, "though I gotta say I've never been big on therapy. I prefer to fight my battles for myself."

Bob laughed, "Randy too – you and he have that in common." He looked Miguel straight in the eye. "As a matter of fact, Miguel, I suspect that you and Randy have a whole lot in common ... just got off on the wrong foot, is all. Anyway, while he's away the coast is clear, so to speak, so feel free to hang out at the house and get to know everyone."

They let the subject drop at that and had a great breakfast as old friends. After all, Bob and the twins knew Miguel well from their trip to the hotel, and Zack – well, he was in love with him.

When the meal was over Zack said, "Miguel, even though it's the weekend Randy and I always have a Saturday meeting at the construction site with Darius and Pablo to plan the work schedule for the coming week – make sure everything's in place. With Randy away I should take the boys there and meet with them. It only takes a couple of hours."

"So spend time across the street," Bob said. "It'll give you a chance to say hi to Brandon and Jamie who'll be working in the office, and then you can check out the twins' kitchen like you promised yesterday." The twins were enthusiastic about that, eager for advice and suggestions from a big executive chef. And so it was all settled. Except that the best laid plans ...

In the office in the tribe's compound Miguel was greeted warmly by Jamie and Brandon. At yesterday's dinner Miguel hadn't got to talk much with Mark's boy Jamie and they made up for that now, with Jamie explaining something of the workings of the construction company. As he sat next to the tanned blond surfer in his loose tank and surfer shorts Miguel couldn't help his dick getting hard, much as he tried to ignore it.

"And Brandon was the first member of the clan you met yesterday," Jamie grinned. "I hope he took good care of you."

"Sure did!" Miguel ruffled Brandon's hair as he sat next to him in his wheelchair. "Brandon and I are best buddies after he took me up to the Grady House and showed me such a good time."

"And rumor has it that you got to fuck Tarzan," Jamie laughed. "I bet Grady loved that – he loves dark Latin guys like you ... just look at his lover Mario."

"I forgot," Miguel laughed, "those jungle drums of yours spread the good news instantly."

Similarly, Miguel's visit to the kitchen was a great success as he admired the way the twins had set it up. He was so impressed that he gave them the ultimate chef's praise of saying, "At the risk of sounding like a housewives' cliché, guys, I would love to exchange recipes with you."

Thrilled as they were, the twins' antennae were as sensitive as Bob's and they weren't surprised when Miguel became more serious and changed the topic. "Er, Bob said that Randy had gone fishing `up at the lake'. Do you, er, know what lake that would be?"

"Oh sure," said Kyle, "we've been up there several times with Randy and Bob. It's way up in the Angeles National Forest above Los Angeles. You take the Angeles Crest Highway, but you'd never find the path to the lake unless you knew." Kevin added, "That's why it's so quiet, nobody ever there. We think of it as Randy's private lake. If ever he wants to be alone he goes there."

There was an uneasy silence, then Miguel frowned. "Guys, I'm gonna ask you for a favor, and I understand if you need to get permission from Bob first. Can you tell me how to find the path to the lake?"

The twins exchanged glances in that wordless communication they always had. Kevin said, "Well, sir, in case we ever needed it we once actually measured the actual mileage to the turnoff on the odometer of Randy's truck, and there's a big outcropping of rock just before you get there ... but, er ..." Kyle took over. "Could you excuse us for a moment?"

They both went up to their apartment above the kitchen and called Bob to tell him Miguel's question. "Aaah," Bob said, "I kind of expected something like that. Let me think for a minute." Bob reflected back on their earlier conversation where Miguel had said, I've never been big on therapy. I prefer to fight my battles for myself.' And Bob had replied, You and Randy have that in common. As a matter of fact, I suspect that you two guys have a whole lot in common ... just got off on the wrong foot, is all.'

He came a decision. "OK, guys, give Miguel the information he needs. But this is just between us. Not a word to anyone else, even Zack – especially not Zack. But, er, if you could just drop a suggestion to Miguel that he leave a note for Zack so he won't be worried. Jeez, I'm sticking my neck out here. I hope I've made the right decision."

"Oh we're sure you have," said Kevin. "We trust Miguel – we can see it when we look in his eyes. Everything will come out just fine, we're sure of that."

"Sometimes I think you guys know everything," Bob chuckled. "I just wish I could be as sure as you are."

The twins ran downstairs and said to Miguel, "Bob says it's OK, sir. Here are the directions." When they had finished Kyle said. "Er, whatever you do, sir, Bob's afraid that Zack might worry so, maybe you should, kinda, let him know."

"Thanks, guys, I fully intend to. If you give me some paper I'll write a note to him right now and perhaps you'll give it to him when he comes in."

He wrote: Zack, this business with Randy concerns me a lot as it's caused so much trouble for all you guys. I didn't start it but my arrival among you all did. And when Randy attacked me I reacted badly `cos I got angry just like him. I think he and I are alike in that way, maybe in many ways. Whatever, this is between me and Randy, and I've got to put it right ... not you or Bob or Steve ... me. That's the kind of man I am, I think you know that. Please don't try to follow me, Zack. Leave it to me. Just know that I love you, buddy ... M

Even though the twins' directions had been explicit Miguel was still surprised by how far it was along the Angeles Crest Highway as it wound its way higher and higher in the San Gabriel Mountains above Los Angeles. So it gave him plenty of time for thought – mostly, of course, about the man he had come to see, Randy.

Miguel had been a direct recipient of Randy's explosive anger, but even before that painful episode he already knew a lot about the man. When he first met Bob and the twins at the hotel they had mentioned him often – the twins with a sense of awe and Bob with the light of love in his eyes. It was clear Bob was crazy about the man, and Miguel wondered what kind of special guy could capture the devotion of a beautiful man like Bob.

Then later, also at the hotel, Zack and Darius had talked of Randy a lot. Zack, a powerfully dominant man saw Randy as an equal – and loved and respected him like a brother. But it was Darius, as the voluble historian of the tribe, who gushed most information about Randy. Darius, apparently, had been the first man to join Randy and Bob at the very foundation of the tribe. He had watched the tribe grow under Randy's leadership and was full of glowing anecdotes of him.

He talked at length about how Randy fiercely protected the boys of the tribe, a carryover from the days when he protected his own young brothers. Darius mentioned a time when young Eddie had been captured and abused by a villainous thug of a linebacker and Randy had gone out and rescued the boy – and had taken a vicious beating from the thug in the process.

One common theme mentioned by everyone was that one feature of this protective instinct was to thoroughly vet any newcomer to the tribe, many times subjecting them to a physical trial of strength. So what Miguel had experienced from Randy was not unusual – it was the norm. And Miguel guessed why.

Even while they were fighting Miguel had sensed something about Randy – a kind of affinity, an acknowledgement that they were two of a kind, cut from the same cloth. They were both naturally dominant alpha males, both handsome, muscular with a strong sex appeal.

And they were both quick to anger and use their fists, a trait that came from their background as street-fighters – Miguel on the crime-ridden streets of Honduras and Randy as an itinerant gypsy on the tough streets of rural West Texas.

Miguel tried to put himself in Randy's place as leader and defender of the tribe, and he knew that if a newcomer showed up he too would have challenged him the way Randy did. The worst part was that Miguel had previously met Bob and the twins and spent the night with them, so Randy saw him as a threat. Zack had told Miguel that Randy's one insecurity, bordering on paranoia, was the fear of Bob leaving him, or worse, having another man take him away.

As Miguel drove, all of these reflections added up to a huge respect for the man, a natural leader who had built and protected a close-knit tribe of men over the years. Randy was clearly a man's man ... a guy to be reckoned with.

Miguel was thus so wrapped in thought that he realized he had missed the concealed turnoff to the lake. A mile or so back he had noticed the rocky outcropping the twins had mentioned and he now did a U-turn back to it and finally saw the faint trail leading into the woods. As his 4-wheel drive SUV bounced along the dusty track deeper into the forest he began to think he must be on the wrong path. But then the trees thinned out ... and he saw Randy's truck.

Miguel's heart missed a beat, partly from uneasiness, partly from ... something ... something he couldn't put his finger on. He got out of his car and closed the door quietly. He walked the rest of the way through the trees and stopped when they cleared at the top of a small beach.

And there was Randy ... sitting at the water's edge. And Miguel's heart went out to him. Shoulders hunched over, prodding a stick absently into the sand, gazing out over the lake, he was a picture of loneliness. Miguel had felt that loneliness himself, the loneliness of a man at the top as he himself had been, exerting his dominance in his Honduran neighborhood. He guessed at Randy's thoughts now, the shame and humiliation he must feel, his manhood somehow diminished by taking a beating watched by all his buddies.

And yet even now, viewed from behind him, a power exuded from the man somehow, with his muscular body and long black gypsy hair. He was wearing cargo shorts and an old tank top stretched over his powerful torso, his bare feet dug into the sand at the water's edge. Miguel's impulse was to run to him and comfort him ... but he curbed it, knowing the effect that kind of shock would have on him. So he stood still, watching silently.

Randy had the instincts of a wild animal and gradually became aware of something, someone, behind him. He turned his head suddenly ... and sprang to his feet, fists clenched. "What the fuck ...?" he bellowed. "What the hell are you doing here, asshole? Come to gloat I suppose, about how you thrashed me in front of my boy, my man and my buddies. Or did you come here to get the same beating you gave me? `Cos that's what you're gonna get you son-of-a-bitch."

"None of those, Randy," Miguel said evenly. "I came to apologize."

Randy gave a scornful laugh. "Yeah right, like I'm gonna believe that!" He stepped menacingly toward Miguel. "Get the fuck out of here or I'll fucking kill you."

"I didn't come to fight again, man, but I deserve whatever you dish out. So come on, man, do what you want to me." As he had done yesterday before the fight Miguel held his arms out to his sides, palms open, vulnerable. Randy growled, clenched his fists ... but checked himself as he looked into the steady, hazel eyes. Unlike yesterday his anger now was based not on the insecurity and protective instincts of a leader threatened, but simply of the memory of having been beaten by this man.

"Ah, fuck it, you're not worth it. Just get the fuck out of my sight."

He turned away but Miguel said, "Not until you've heard my apology, Randy. I'm sorry that I barged in on you like that yesterday. But I genuinely wanted to meet you after everything I had heard about you – your strength, leadership of a great group of men, your protectiveness of your boys. You sounded like my kind of man, and you know what? If our positions had been reversed and you had invaded my territory in front of my men I would have acted exactly the same way – with my fists just as you did.

"So I'm sorry for the way I reacted," Randy. "I was as hotheaded as you were. I guess we are very alike, you and I ... two alpha males protecting our turf in the only way we know – both of us street-fighters from way back."

Randy whirled round to face him. "Fuck you, man, that's bullshit. You know as well as I do that it's me who should do the apologizing. Seeing you come in, a hot handsome stud, I pictured you in bed with Bob and lost my cool. Bob says I'm always too quick with my fists. I shouldn't have hit you and provoked you the way I did, and that's that."

Miguel smiled. "There we go again, Randy. Even when we apologize we challenge each other – competing to see who's the most guilty. Why don't we just accept each other's apology and call it quits – put it behind us, eh?"

Randy grunted, "Hm, sounds like something Bob would say. Well, I have a rule with our guys – a man makes a mistake, gets punished and that's an end of it – it's over. I guess we both made a mistake and got punished in our own way ... so OK, we're quits."

"So what d'ya say, Randy?" Miguel held out his hand. Randy hesitated, then shrugged, "Oh what the fuck," grabbed his hand and shook it. Miguel found himself staring into the gypsy's swarthy chiseled features, stubbled jaw and long black hair ... and the hypnotic blue eyes that had mesmerized so many men in in the past.

Miguel was no exception and found himself drawn to the sexual magnetism of this amazing man. Impulsively he pulled Randy toward him and kissed him fiercely on the lips. Instantly he realized what he was doing and pulled away. "Oh shit, Randy, I'm sorry. I don't know why I ..."

"Ah, no sweat man. A lot o' guys wanna do that ... you just had the guts to go for it. OK, listen, I'm gonna get outa here – take my boat out to the middle of the lake and fish, and think."

He walked back to his truck and pulled the rowboat off the back of it. Usually it took two men and now the boat slipped, balancing precariously on the tail gate. Miguel ran forward and grabbed the side of the boat and together they pulled it off, staring at each other across the boat as they carried it to the lake.

As they lowered it in the water Miguel asked, "So what kinda fish you catch here? Bass, catfish, bluegill?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Randy said surprised by Miguel's knowledge. "Trout too if I'm lucky. You like to fish?"

"Sure, did it as a boy, and I still go fishing quite often on my own – like you. Something else we have in common."

"You wanna come?"

"Sure, Randy, I'd love to."

"Gets hot out there. I usually go out like this." Randy stripped down to his boxer shorts and Miguel did the same. They pushed the boat out, jumped in, and Miguel sat facing Randy watching the powerful gypsy pull on the oars, the muscles of his magnificent body rippling in the sunlight. And, like so many men before him, Miguel had a stiff boner in his shorts.

Randy looked down at the bulge in his shorts and grinned at Miguel's embarrassment. "Ah don't worry, dude, happens to most guys when they're with me."

Miguel should have been pissed at the man's arrogance, but it was said so matter-of-factly, a statement of truth, that it wasn't off-putting – just very sexy.

They spent a relaxed couple of hours fishing, floating in the middle of the lake, the boat rocking gently in the warm breeze. With vibrations of their former fierce rivalry still hanging in the air it was a strange getting-acquainted experience but the rippling water of the lake worked its magic and they were soon swapping stories of their pasts.

As they compared Miguel's early days on the rough streets of Honduras with Randy's battles in rugged West Texas they discovered many similarities, which mirrored all the other things they had in common. They found pleasure in talking man-to-man, pulling no punches – or as Randy put it, no pussyfooting round the issues. They laughed at each other's wild stories, and commiserated at the often solitary nature of dominant men at the peak of manhood.

They talked of Bob, of course, and Miguel could see the glowing adoration in Randy's eyes, just as Randy saw that Miguel represented no threat to him with Bob. By the time they headed back to shore the memory of their violent meeting had faded, replaced by the natural respect of one strong alpha male for another.

As could be expected of two experienced fishermen they had caught plenty and as they dragged the boat up the beach Randy grinned. "Right, man, so now is your chance to prove what they all say about you – that you're this hotshot executive chef in a fancy hotel. My little barbecue here ain't so fancy, but you think you can do a number on these fish we caught?"

"It would be an honor. Stand by, sir, for the best piscatorial experience of your life."

"Come again ... pisca-what?"

Manuel laughed, "Ask Bob, he'll know. Roughly translated it means `a great fucking meal'."

Randy threw his head back and laughed in an outburst of joy that lit up his gypsy face and made him doubly sexy. Miguel stared at him, took a deep breath ... and went for it.

"Randy, before I cook for you there's something I need you to do for me. I know you prefer plain talk – no beating around the bush – so here goes. Randy, you are one hell of a sexy son-of-a-bitch, and all the time watching you out in that boat I've had a king-size boner in my shorts dripping pre-cum. So here's what I want. I wanna feel your prick in my ass. Fuck me, man."

Randy grinned. "Is that an order?"

"I admit," Miguel chuckled, "that I am a guy who gives orders. But not to you, stud. Never to you. I'm asking you Randy. Please, man, fuck me up the butt."

Without another word Randy dropped his shorts and out sprang his massive cock, hard as a rock, thick as a beer can. Miguel's eyes opened wide and Randy laughed, "Be careful what you wish for, buddy."

Miguel dropped his own shorts and they stood staring at each other, two rugged, powerful top-men whose first savage encounter had been inevitable – just as inevitable as this much different confrontation. Instinctively Miguel fell to his knees, held Randy's cock, licked the head, then opened wide and swallowed the whole shaft deep down his throat. He gagged, pulled back, took deep breaths through his nose and went down again.

"Fuck yeah, that's what I like," Randy growled, "a big macho stud on his knees servicing the master's cock. That's it ... eat it, big guy." He grabbed the mass of black hair in both hands and pulled the handsome Latino face down on his cock, harder and harder. Tears were running down Miguel's face but he reached round, grabbed Randy's bare ass-cheeks and pulled them toward him, burying his face in Randy's wiry black pubes stinking of sweat. He wanted to prove himself to Randy and this was a trial of strength he welcomed.

Feeling the strength and endurance of the man Randy pounded the rugged face without holding back, groaning, "Fuck, that feels good ... fucking gorgeous man ... oh shit ...aaah ... no ..."

On the edge of orgasm Randy pulled back and yelled, "Damn you, man, you almost made me spill my load. But that's not the way I want it. You know what I want stud." He grabbed a blanket from the truck, spread it over the sand and ordered, "On your back, big guy."

Miguel obeyed the command and pulled back his legs, offering his ass to the wild gypsy towering naked over him. Randy knelt between his legs and his blue eyes pierced Miguel's. "You know I do this to all the new guys. It's not payback time for the way you thrashed me – well, that too – but mostly it's your initiation into the tribe. You sure you want this, buddy?"

"More than anything, Randy. Please fuck me ... I need it so bad. Fuck me, sir ... aaagh!"

Miguel howled as, with no foreplay, Randy plunged his huge cock deep inside his ass. The shock and pain made him writhe and he slammed his hands on Randy's chest in a reflexive attempt to push him back. But Randy grabbed his wrists, pushed them down and pinned them on the ground. "No you don't, buddy, you're mine now." He pulled his cock back then drove in again and again as the handsome Hispanic musclehunk writhed helplessly beneath him.

Randy's eyes gleamed and he gloated, "Oh yeah, man, I love fucking big hot studs like you. Boys are great but top-men like you are primo `cos I know you can take it. That's right, uh stud? You can take whatever I throw at you?"

"Try me," Miguel challenged. "Harder ... that all you got, asshole? Thought you were the boss."

"Fuck you, man," Randy yelled. "You want it, asshole? You got it ... here it comes."

Randy became an animal, a raging stallion as he pinned the man to the ground and pounded ass. His cock was a battering ram, driving deeper and deeper into the hot captive ass. Miguel stared up at the muscular body slamming down on him, at the sculpted gypsy face, clenched jaw, high cheek bones, the long black hair whipping round his face and the blue eyes boring into him like lasers. The pain dissolved and he was overwhelmed with desire for this wildman.

At the peak of his sexual power Randy's lust was roused by this rugged muscle-stud who he knew was his equal in strength and endurance. Randy fucked this savagely only with Bob and Zack and that was from love. But this man had beaten him in a fight so his pride demanded that he show the man he was the ultimate boss. He knew that Miguel would become a major force in the tribe, but he had to know that Randy was top-man, the true King of the Gypsies.

After long minutes into the sledge-hammer fuck Miguel was drifting in an exhilarating world of heightened physical and emotional ecstasy. He soon learned that Randy was a master fuck. Knowing just when Miguel had been fucked to the brink of his climax, Randy suddenly slowed down, massaging the tender membrane of his ass, teasing him, denying his orgasm, then starting again and building to the ferocious fuck that Miguel craved.

"Oh fuck, Randy," he groaned, "you're driving me crazy. My ass is on fire, man. Your fucking cock is so huge, man, you're gonna rip my ass open."

Randy's eyes gleamed. "But you love it, stud, don't you? ... can't get enough of it. You're a tough motherfucker, I'll give you that, but every man has his breaking point, even you. And I can find yours, buddy."

And so the merciless jack-hammering continued, alternating with periods of slow sensual caresses of Miguel's ass that drove him even wilder than the ferocious attack. He wanted the gentle fuck to continue, he wanted to cum like that, but again Randy denied him and ramped up the pressure.

"Fuck you, man," Miguel howled. "I can't take much more ... I need to cum so bad. Let me touch my cock."

"I told you before," Randy taunted, "you're not the one giving orders now. Your ass is mine, stud, and I say when you'll shoot that load – when you say what I wanna hear. See, like I said, I'm the boss, and any new man has to accept that ... even a major musclehunk like you. And by the way, no man ever touches his cock to cum when I'm fucking him – he don't have to. And I can make any man fall in love with me. So here we go. Look into my eyes."

Mesmerized by the sound of Randy's deep voice Miguel stopped struggling and gazed up at the penetrating steel-blue eyes. And there he was, another man falling under the gypsy's hypnotic spell. Miguel was a dominant man but now he felt powerless. He knew he had to obey this man, knew he had to admit defeat.

Randy was now giving him the full slow, gentle treatment, making love to his ass as only he could. Miguel knew he was beaten. "Please, man, I need to cum so bad. Let me cum. I can't take anymore. I give up ... you win. Please, sir, I submit. I'm begging you ... please let me cum for you, sir."

"That's better, man. Now you know why I'm the boss and always will be. Feel that dick in your ass? This is how I accept a man into the tribe ... I'm gonna fill your ass with my sperm. And when I do you're gonna shoot your load all over that beautiful fucking body of yours. Here it comes man ... now." Randy pulled his cock all the way out, paused ... then slammed it back in even deeper, harder than before, exploding in the burning inner depths of his ass.

"Aaaagh!!" Miguel threw his head back and his screams echoed round the lake as his cock unloaded the pent-up juice that had been straining his balls and blasted it over his abs, his chest, his neck and face. His head thrashed from side to side, his body strained mightily, and it felt like his explosive orgasm would never stop ... but it did as everything went dark.

When he came to seconds later he didn't know where he was at first until he felt Randy's breath on him and looked up into the now-smiling blue eyes. Randy was lying beside him, propped up on his elbow staring down at him. "You're one of us now, Miguel."

Miguel smiled, "You mean I passed the test?"

"Like a champ," Randy grinned. "Man, that was one hot fuck. You should turn the tables on me one day ... oh, I forgot, you already did." On Miguel's startled look Randy laughed. "Don't worry, dude, that's all in the past. `Course, there's still some wreckage to clear up when we get back home. Lotta stuff to sort out."

"Yeah, I've gotta call Zack in a minute – tell him things worked out OK – more than OK actually."

"Yeah, I gotta call Bob too. He tells me he's arranging a session for you and me with my brother Steve, our shrink – the preppy version of me. But don't expect the usual fifty-minutes of fancy bullshit you usually get from those guys. My brother has some pretty wild methods that go on a whole lot longer than fifty minutes. Usually involves someone getting fucked too. Not that that should bother us, eh buddy?"

"OK, but after we've spoken to our men, how about those fish? Now that you've proved you're the King of the Gypsies, I've gotta show you I'm the King of the Kitchen."

"OK, chef," Randy grinned. "Let's see what you got."

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Part 369

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. Click on the `Our Story' tab to read the current chapter, or click on the green button to browse all the chapter synopses. Enjoy

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