A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 371 By Rob Williams

CHAPTER 371 – "MUSCLING THROUGH THE WRECKAGE"

IN THIS CHAPTER:

The senior boys tackle the wreckage caused by Randy and Miguel. First Darius confronts Zack and Miguel in a wild leather scene. "The black leather master and rugged Latino were bound together in a vortex of mutual pain and passion, all the while making savage love." Then Randy makes peace with his boy Pablo. Staring at the young jock mechanic bending over a truck he moans, "Man, I gotta have that ass." _____________________________________________________________________

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

The tough leader of the tribe, Randy, had roiled the tribe in turmoil with his intense sexual infatuation with the new arrival to the clan, Miguel.

The macho Hispanic had been drawn to the sexual magnetism of the hypnotic gypsy, unaware of the inter-weaving of relationships in the tribe. First and foremost was the passionate love affair between Randy and Bob. The police office Mark was also in love with Bob. And Randy's best buddy, the black construction boss Zack, was the one who had brought his new man Miguel to the tribe and now felt betrayed by them both.

It seemed impossible to disentangle this spider-web of emotions and, surprisingly, it was the senior boys who took charge. Randy's boy, the tough young mechanic Pablo, had confronted Randy angrily, beaten him in a fight and left him broken and humiliated tied to a tree, covered in sweat and semen.

Bob's boys, the twins, had added their own brand of humiliation for the bound man, bringing him food and water that he lapped up like a dog. It was their bitter revenge for his treatment of their beloved master.

As the other men at last made a move to intervene, Pablo said, "No, sirs. The senior boys have taken care of things so far, now it's Darius's turn. You need a hand, buddy?"

"Wouldn't hurt, dude," Darius grinned. "Thanks."

Miguel, appalled by the mayhem that he and Randy had caused, ran out of the house to grab his clothes from Zack's house and "get the hell out of here." Zack followed him.

When Darius and Pablo went too they paused in the garden to listen to the sounds of an argument coming from the house. It was a confused, rambling dispute – Miguel blaming himself; Zack blaming Miguel and Randy; Miguel insisting he had to leave; Zack agreeing, then both accusing each other for the last time Miguel had threatened to leave but didn't.

"Man," Miguel shouted, "the only reason I didn't leave before was that you tied me up and whipped me into submission in that leather-master act of yours."

"Seems to me you didn't object to that leather act' at the time," Zack snarled. "It turned you on. 'Course, that was before you went haring off after Randy and you fucked like horny rabbits and bonded' or fell in love', whatever the fuck that means for a man like you. I seem to recall you bonded' with me once, but you change your mind quicker than I change my fucking shorts."

"Oh, I suppose being your buddy meant that I couldn't be friends with another guy, especially Randy who seems to have a running rivalry with you. I didn't realize you were so petty and possessive. Hell, I feel like a football being kicked around between you two until you decide who's top dog. Well I've had it man, with you and this whole crazy setup. Like I said once before, I'm outa here."

"Yeah go, why don't you? Go back to the gypsy ... hell you guys were practically fucking over the table out there, though I reckon he's probably in no shape right now to fuck your ass. I'm sorry I ever met you again, man. Just get the hell out of my life."

"Stop! Stop it! Both of you." They broke off and turned to the door where Darius stood – no longer the easy-going fun-loving Darius but a black demon, his eyes blazing, fists clenched. "So you break up – and what about me? What about the promises you made to me of being a family, the three of us? What about my shattered dreams eh?"

"Kid, I'm sorry," Zack said, `but things changed. This man betrayed us both and right now I can't stand the sight of him."

"The feelings mutual, asshole," Miguel yelled.

"I said shut up," Darius barked. "I'm not your boy-toy, either one of you. I'm a man now, in case you hadn't noticed and I've got a say in this. Now come outside and we'll decide this. At least you owe me that."

Stunned by the ferocity of this rugged young black man they followed him out to the garden. "Stand there and face each other." Humoring him they did as he said. What they didn't realize was that, while they had been yelling at each other, Darius and Pablo had quickly made plans out in the garden and set things up.

The result was stunning. Using the advantage of surprise the younger men quickly overpowered Zack and Miguel and minutes later they were standing facing each other, arms stretched up, wrists tied to ropes hanging from an overhead tree branch.

To add insult to injury they were also tied together by their nipples and balls. Darius and Pablo had put tit-clamps on both men that were connected by a short chain. Then they took two lengths of cord, stretched the men's balls and tied a cord round the base of the ball-sac, then knotted the ropes together. Reflexively the men pulled back but their nipples and balls were tied together and the pain made them jerk forward against each other.

"Darius," Zack growled, "I don't know what kind of damn fool stunt you're pulling here but cut it out right now, you hear? This joke has gone far enough."

"Oh it's no joke sir. See, the way I figured it, you stopped Miguel from leaving before by tying him up like this and whipping him. Well now there's two of you and, with the help of my buddy here, I've tied you both together facing each other. Your tits are connected and your balls too, so you better go real easy with each other.

"But don't worry, guys. The clamps are not alligator clips with serrated teeth. They're just tight enough to cause that sexy kinda pain. I should know, eh Zack? Just don't pull back, `cos if the chains and the cords tighten you'll hurt the other guy as much as yourself.

"So, if you still wanna punish each other you can pull away and hurt each other, or you can just stay real close and intimate like and see where that leads. Either way, I'll help things along a bit from time to time, but right now me and my buddy are gonna go inside and leave you alone together. Kinda gives togetherness a whole new meaning, don't it?"

Pablo followed him into the house and they high-fived each other. "Think it's gonna work, dude?" Pablo grinned. Darius shrugged, "One way or the other it will. `Course, like I said I'll give things a nudge now and again."

Pablo watched in awe as Darius put on his leather outfit – tight black leather pants, heavy boots and a studded leather harness crossed over this muscular chest, defining his pecs. He put on a leather cap and looked in the mirror. "Hey, what d'ya think?"

"Nah, lose the cap, dude. Bit over the top. But hell, man, you look awesome. When this is all over we gotta do this, you and me. But can you handle it on your own from here on?"

"Sure, dude, better that way. But stay for one last drink. I want them to settle for a bit before the fun starts. They're not going anywhere anytime soon. Brandy?"

Outside, the two men were not exactly `settling.' "This is a fucking nightmare, asshole," Miguel groaned. "I'm gonna kill you and that fucking kid of yours."

"Yeah, I hate your guts too. You son-of-a-bitch, you caused this by losing your mind over Randy. You deserve this." Zack jerked his chest back and the chains pulled tight and they both howled as pain sparked through their tits.

Fuck you man," Miguel growled, "what you guys did to Randy back there was brutal – bunch of fucking animals. See how you like it." He jerked his butt back, making the cord tighten and sending shafts of pain through their balls causing more screams.

Their shouts reached inside and Darius grinned, "Sounds like they're getting the hang of things. Man, talk about a homoerotic set-up – a tough black leather master and a musclehunk Hispanic tied together naked, bodies stretched upward connected by their tits and balls."

"Pornographic, dude" Pablo grinned. "And the moral of this story is don't piss off the senior boys. Never know what they'll do to you. So let the games begin, big guy." And they clinked glasses.

************************ CHAPTER 371 **************************

While Darius and Pablo were in Zack's house congratulating each other, out in the garden the atmosphere was less amicable – downright poisonous, in fact. The current animosity between Zack and Miguel was quadruped by the fact of being tied together, helpless to separate, even though each of them would rather be anywhere else than here.

Verbal recriminations were inadequate, and if either one of them had been tied up solo like this the other would have taken out his anger physically by brandishing a whip. If they had faced each other freely the impulse would have been to fight – wrestling, trading punches. But in their current predicament there was only one way to vent their anger.

Zack was enraged and humiliated by being tied up like this by his own boy and growled, "I don't care how much I hurt you, asshole, I'm getting out of here." He pulled back sharply and instantly pain shot through the chests and balls of both men as the tit-clamp chain yanked on their nipples and the cord stretched their balls. Both men howled in pain until Zack finally fell back against Miguel and the chain and cord slackened.

"You really are a delusional son-of-a-bitch," Miguel snarled, "if you think I'm gonna give in to shit like that. Here, see how long you can take it, man." Miguel pulled back as Zack had done and again the bonds between them stretched brutally, radiating pain through their muscled bodies that flexed hard to withstand the assault on their nipples and balls.

And from then on it became a trial of strength and endurance, two strong, dominant rivals punishing each other, each in turn yanking backwards, stretching tits and balls, and in so doing, hurting themselves as much as their adversary. The muscular black leather-master and handsome Hispanic top-man writhed, bodies stretched upward, chests and groins on fire as they twisted in a futile attempt to pull apart.

But it was more than simple macho rivalry. It was not only anger that drove them, it was pride and a determination in each man to prove to the other his masculine supremacy.

Zack was a master of the leather world, with its traditions of bondage, endurance and man-on-man combat. Miguel was new to that world, but the urges had been dormant in him for years until Zack had roused them. Now, bondage, machismo and tests of strength became features of his manhood. It was the same dynamic that had driven Miguel to challenge Randy, to compete with him and finally to fuck him.

And so the contest continued, as both muscular top-men stared defiantly into each other's eyes, each man daring the other to break his spirit. They were unaware that Darius was standing across the small garden staring at them – with mixed emotions. The most immediate one was sexual arousal, watching these two spectacular alpha males, the black leather master and Hispanic muscle-god bound together and torturing each other.

But this was not Darius's ultimate goal. He knew what he wanted and hoped he knew how to achieve it. No harm in trying, he thought.

"Enough!" The bound men stopped tormenting each other and gasped at the sight of Darius in full leather – boots, black leather pants and a studded harness crossed over his chest, and a whip draped round his neck. Once a simple fun-loving boy, Darius had matured into an impressive, muscular young jock – self-assured, dominant and, right now, intimidating.

Before Zack could resume his protests Darius snarled, "Yeah, easy to do that macho contest thing when it's just the two of you who can ease off when it hurts too much. But let's see how you cope with this. He pulled the whip from around his neck, raised it and slammed it down across Zack's bare back.

Darius had deliberately chosen a cat o' nine tails, a whip with a dozen braids of rawhide that he could modulate from a sharp sting to a biting blow. That first blow was heavy and made Zack reflexively pull back and yank the chain and cord tight between him and Miguel. Then Miguel was the target and soon both men were howling as Darius rained down blows on each of them.

Darius was right – having no control their torment was much worse and soon Miguel was yelling, "No ... no more ... stop ..."

So Darius stopped, threw down the whip and walked nonchalantly back into the house as if nothing had happened.

Miguel slumped forward against Zack, his chin on Zack's shoulder. Zack was dazed, not so much from his stinging back but from the realization of what Miguel was going through. And when he felt him sobbing quietly on his shoulder that realization became more painful.

A stranger to the tribe Miguel had been brought here by Zack himself after they had discovered a sexual and emotional bond between them. But things had gone horribly wrong when Miguel had suddenly become infatuated with the sexually magnetic Randy, blinding him to everything and everyone else.

It was hard for Zack to get his mind beyond that and to excuse Miguel's behavior, with its implicit slap in the face to Zack. And yet, here was this basically decent man who, only a few days ago had been a proud executive chef in a luxury hotel, respected and admired by guests and staff alike. And now he was humiliatingly strung up buck naked to a tree, tied to Zack and whipped by Zack's own boy.

Zack had been nursing a bitter resentment of the insult Miguel had inflicted on him. But wasn't this an even worse insult to a proud, confident man like Miguel? Zack's anger was slowly fading into compassion and it was with these conflicted emotions that he now remained motionless with Miguel's chin resting on his shoulder, their cheeks pressed against each other.

Indoors Darius had his fingers crossed that his gamble was paying off. Wary at first of Miguel he had quickly grown to like him and become excited by the thought of living with both men in a loving family unit. But that dream had unraveled and he could think of only one way he might restore it, dramatic as the means might be. So now he waited, sipping more brandy. He figured that half an hour should clinch it.

Outside, Miguel heaved a big sigh, inadvertently scraping the tit-clamps against each other and causing a stinging pain in their nipples. He groaned and Zack said, "Try not to move, Miguel. I don't want you hurt anymore." These were the first words not spoken in anger, and a silence ensued.

Zack felt Miguel's stubbled jaw scrape against his face and was reminded of the first time he had seen him with his dark stubbled face and muscular body. How the hell had it come to this? At last he found his voice and mumbled, "I'm sorry, man."

Another silence. Then – "It's me who should say that." That was Miguel who now pulled back and stared deep into Zack's eyes. "I fucked up, man. I knew that when things started to go south at that meal across the street. When we heard Pablo and Randy fighting I realized what I had caused. And then when Jamie took me to see Randy tied up like an animal I ..." He broke off with a sob. "That's when reality hit – I realized the muscle-god had feet of clay. Man, I feel like such a fool. I have no idea why I behaved the way I did."

"I do," Zack said. "We've all fallen under Randy's spell at one time or another – you're not the first. He can bewitch a man, make him forget everything else. Why do you think that Bob, a gorgeous man who could have anyone he wants, is so devoted to him, no matter how crazy he behaves?"

They gazed at each other for long seconds, then Miguel averted his gaze and said, "I don't expect you to forgive me, Zack." Then raising his voice in anguish, "I just wanna get the fuck out of here." Impulsively he pulled back sharply, the chain went taut between them and pain sparked from this tortured nipples through their chests.

"Aaagh!" Miguel opened his mouth wide and howled in pain. Horrified, Zack leaned forward, clamped their mouths together, and suddenly the pain dissolved into passion. All the pent-up agony of the last two days now found release in lust and longing – the longing to love again.

They ground their lips together and pressed against each other, ignoring the pain in their chests – no, not ignoring it, relishing it. For men like these pain was always on the cusp of pleasure and now, as the tit-clamps scraped together, pain was transformed into shafts of sexual ecstasy as their bodies were consumed with lust and their cocks, tied together by the balls, churned against each other and became rods of steel.

It was a bizarre form of lovemaking. Sure, in other circumstances either man could have turned the other on sexually by tying him up and whipping him. But this time they were both tied up – to each other – and as one man tortured the other he felt exactly the same level of pain in himself. It was a new form of domination sex, tit-clamping, cock and ball torture, where both were aggressor and victim, top and bottom, at the same time.

They were testing each other and themselves simultaneously. As each man exerted the same level of pressure and felt the same level of pain it created an intense intimacy beyond anything they had felt before. The aggression was the same, the pain was the same – they were the same, the same man, feeling the same degree of lust and excitement.

It became a contest of manhood like none they had ever known. Miguel said, "Fuck you, man," and pulled back, making them both scream as the clamps tore at their nipples. Zack reciprocated, jerking his hips back so the cord stretched their balls harder and harder trying to make his rival submit. But, equally matched, feeling the same level of agony, they both surrendered at the same time.

These bursts of physical torment were interspersed with savage love-making where, after torturing their tits and balls, they slammed together in a ferocious kiss, their mouths churning together in a frenzied mix of lust, pain and passion, subjecting each other to a trial of strength, endurance and rugged man-on-man sexuality.

Standing in the shadow of the trees Darius looked on in awed disbelief. Hearing the screams from the garden he had emerged from the house and now stared at the two naked men, bodies stretched in bondage – the tough black leather master and rugged Latino, bound together and shuddering in a vortex of mutual pain and passion, inflicting and suffering equally while making savage love.

The climax came in a contradictory but complementary mix of sexual lust and bodily pain. Their mouths were grinding together while their bodies writhed against each other, their tortured tits scraping together, balls crushed against each other, rigid cocks sliding against the other man's stomach.

In a delirium of lust, their bodies on fire, they were aware only of each other and the pressure building in their balls. Frantically they pressed against each other, their long, pulsing cocks rasping against the ridges of the other's abs until suddenly their faces pulled apart and Zack yelled, "I love you, man. I love you ... aaagh!"

Miguel yelled, "I'm gonna cum ... I'm gonna shoot ... fuck ... fuuuck ...!" Their cocks erupted simultaneously between their bodies that churned against each other, lubricated now by the jets of semen that spurted up between them.

Their orgasms were tumultuous, but slowly their bodies became still as adrenaline drained from them. They gazed into each other's eyes and then kissed, lightly now – forehead, cheeks, eyes, lips – their anger a past memory, replaced by the love they had felt from the start, a love affair that had been so ferociously interrupted.

They became aware of Darius standing beside them, his hands carefully removing the clamps, his wet fingers gently massaging their ravaged nipples. Then he untied the cords and their balls fell free in blessed relief. Darius reached up and lengthened the rope tied to the tree branch, allowing the men to sink to their knees facing each, their roped arms still stretched upward.

Towering over them Darius said, "Before I untie your wrists you gotta talk to each other. I wanna hear it."

"Zack," Miguel stammered, "I don't deserve your forgiveness. That thing with Randy ... I see now that it was ... oh shit I feel so ashamed ... I don't know how to ..."

"Then don't try, buddy," Zack smiled. "How about we rewind and start again from the beginning – you know, the moment we looked at each other and fell in love?"

"Could we do that, buddy? I would love us to become family again."

"Er, and would I still be a part of that family?" Darius asked. "After what I did to you guys, will you let me back in?"

"Kiddo, you're the reason we're together again. Of course you're part of the family. You're what holds it together."

"That's all I wanted to hear, sir. There's one more thing I gotta do to seal the deal." He pulled his rock-hard cock out of his pants and stroked it a couple of time before spraying semen over their faces and bodies. Then he reached down for his ever-present camera and shot a few minutes of the bound, cum-splashed men. "One for the archives, guys. Just to prove I didn't make all this up. Hell, how could anyone make this stuff up?"

He untied their wrists, fell to his knees next to them and they both put their arms round him. It was a long group hug, and when eventually Darius pulled away he flashed his gleaming white-teeth smile. "Guys, I don't know about you two, but I could murder a beer."

When Pablo had left Darius to cope with Zack and Miguel he had no doubts that his buddy would succeed in healing the wounds – even if that meant inflicting a few new ones of his own.

But now it was Pablo's turn and when he entered the gates of the compound he stopped, unsure what to do next. The first part had been pretty basic stuff. Even though he was devoted to his hero he knew, as everyone else did, that Randy had behaved badly, against all the rules of the tribe. The worst thing was that Randy had grievously hurt Bob to the point of insult and had driven him into the arms of Mark.

So Pablo had done what Randy would have done to anyone who hurt Bob. It's what Randy had trained him for – to physically attack the perpetrator (in this case Randy himself). With his fists flailing, using the very fight moves that Randy had taught him, he had managed to overwhelm the big gypsy and leave him helpless on his knees, tied to a tree, smothered in cum and piss – punished and degraded.

But what now? Here the tough young mechanic felt out of his depth. Copying Randy now was no solution, as Randy never apologized and simply walked away from his punished victim – over and done. But this was hardly over and done and only Bob would have known how to calm the roiling waters with his kind, gentle touch. The twins took after him in that – but not Pablo.

Pablo was struck by the silence in the garden and the house, so soon after being the dramatic scene of heated emotions, anger and conflict. All the men at Sunday brunch had departed and the junior boys had cleared away the remains of the meal. The boys were now gathered next door with Nate and Adam, no doubt excitedly rehashing the wild events of the afternoon.

The twins would surely be in their part of the house, cleaning the kitchen and then relaxing in their apartment above it. And Bob and Mark would, of course, be in the master suite, probably in each other's arms. And that left only Randy. Where was Randy? Pablo suddenly knew that he had to find him and go to him.

Two things that Randy always said stuck in Pablo's mind. First: "When a man misbehaves he gets punished and that's an end of it. It's in the past." Second: Randy always said to Pablo, "You're my rock, kiddo, you always are." Well Randy probably needed a rock to cling to right now and, even though it was Pablo himself who had beaten and humiliated his master, it was up to him to offer his support, even if the still-angry gypsy rejected it, as seemed likely.

The first place to look was where Pablo had left him – in the small garden round back, tied to a tree. Apprehensively he walked round the house and was not surprised to see Randy still in the same place – no longer roped to the tree but sleeping under it.

He knew Randy well – his every mood, every reaction, and realized it was typical of Randy to remain here and not come face to face with any of the other guys, filled as he must be with a confusion of guilt and residual anger. After taking a beating Randy knew how to recover quickly, first by sleeping it off like a bad hangover.

As he approached, Pablo saw that Randy was comfortable, with pillows under his head and a warm blanket thrown over him, no doubt courtesy of the twins, Pablo guessed. He stared down at him – at the man he idolized, the man who had rescued him from the clutches of brutal men years ago and taken him under his wing. He had adopted him, nurtured him, taught him, trained him and loved him all these years, bringing him up to be a junior version of himself.

Pablo's heart went out to him and all his doubts and uncertainty vanished. No matter what Randy had done, no matter the ruptures he had caused in the tribe, and no matter even that Pablo had punished and degraded him, Pablo was still his boy – his rock. Quietly he got on the ground, lay down with his back pressed against Randy and pulled the blanket over them both.

And there they lay – Randy breathing deeply in sleep, Pablo nervously closing his eyes wondering what came next. Of one thing he was sure. He was in the right place, next to his master.

They stayed like this for quite a while, and Pablo tried to sleep too, but it wouldn't come. His mind was too busy with conflicting thoughts about the rightness of what he had done, his impulsive attack on his master, cumming on him and urinating on him. Surely that he been going too far – surely Randy would never forgive him. But he determined to stay loyal to him no matter what.

And then suddenly his question was answered in one simple move. He heard Randy grunt, sigh ... and felt his big muscular arm wrap round him. He didn't know what to do, wasn't sure what it meant. He cleared his throat nervously and asked, "Are you awake, sir?"

"Yeah," came the guttural reply. Pablo tried to look inside that one word – was it angry, friendly, forgiving, or just Randy's typical monosyllabic grunt? He couldn't tell. So he risked more.

"I ... I'm sorry, sir."

A pause, then – "You shouldn't be. You did what I would have done, you did what I've trained you to do. Anyone hurts Bob he gets thrashed. I deserved everything you dished out."

Pablo heaved a huge sigh of relief. He waited for more but it didn't come. So he turned over and found himself looking into Randy's pale blue eyes. "You mean ... you mean you're not mad at me, sir?"

"Mad? I'm proud of you boy. All of those other guys round the table were hating me but none of them had the nerve to speak to me the way you did, to ball me out and pick a fight with me. That took guts, kid, and you know how I admire a guy with guts."

"Thank you, sir, but I let anger get the better of me and I was so mad I lost my cool."

"Bullshit. That's what it takes to be a fighter ... get mad, let anger drive you and if you lose your cool, who gives a shit?" His face broke into a smile. "You fought real good, kiddo, using your head as well as your fists. You knew all my moves, what I would do next, and turned my own technique against me. Man you were fast, ducking and weaving like that. And you landed some real knockout blows."

"Thank you, sir," Pablo grinned. This was like old times, getting notes after a sparring bout in the gym. "Er, any suggestions, sir?"

"Mm, yeah one, maybe. "That knee to the groin. If it's hard enough, once is enough to drop any man. Two's not necessary. You only wanna stun the guy, not wreck him for life, turn him into a eunuch."

"Sir," Pablo frowned, "I hope I didn't ..."

"Nah, takes more than that to damage my nuts ... balls of steel. First chance I get, though, I'll make sure ... see if the old schlong can still pump jizz." Then his face clouded over. "It won't be with Bob, though. I think I finally killed that and nailed the coffin down for good."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that, sir. I mean all the other times you ..."

"Yeah, yeah, all the other times. God knows I've hurt him in the past but that was when I got jealous of other guys and got scared he would leave me. But this time it was the reverse. It was me lost my fucking head over another guy and hurt Bob in the worst possible way. He thought I was gonna leave him for Miguel. That must've been a brutal shock and he'll never forgive me ... he shouldn't."

He frowned at Pablo. "Is he, er, is he ...?"

"With Mark, sir? Yes, I believe so."

"Good, he's better off with Mark. Mark's a good guy and he'll take care of him. Mark's rock solid, honest, steady. Not a fucking arrogant bastard like me, crazy as a loon. I never deserved Bob. I'm surprised he stayed with me as long as he did. I'll never know why."

"Because he loves you, sir?"

"Loved you mean. And how did I repay that love? By falling in lust, or whatever the fuck it was, with the new guy and eye-fucking him across the table in front of Bob and all our buddies. Damn that was about the most brutal thing I could have done – humiliating Bob in the worst way. And don't try to talk me out of it, kid. It was you beat some sense into me at last, and lying here I've been running it all over in my mind again and again. No, kid, I've been a damn fool and I don't deserve Bob. We're done for."

There was a long, heavy silence until Pablo said, "So what now, sir?"

"Right now I gotta be active, flex my muscles, restore whatever shreds of self-respect I got left. I may be a giant fuckup, a total loser, but I'm still a damn good construction worker – maybe that's all I was ever good for. So I gotta get back to work. Tomorrow we're gonna need that big truck you were working on to haul shit off the site. Is it finished?"

"Not yet, sir. But Ben and me found out what the problem is and it just needs another couple hours work is all. Do you want me to call Ben and do it now?"

"Nah, don't disturb the kid. He'll wanna be with his fireman Jason. But what if I take you to the site and we'll work on the truck together? Hard, greasy labor's what I need now. How about it?"

"Right there with you, sir," Pablo grinned. "It'll be like old times. Can you, er, stand up OK?"

Randy sprang to his feet. "Hey, this is your old man you're talking to you." He raised his fists in a fighting stance with a devilish smile. "Hell I could go another couple rounds with you, get my own back, except we don't have time – work to do. Come on, stud."

He pulled on his jeans and boots, threw his arm over Pablo's shoulder and went out to his truck.

Half an hour later they had their heads buried under the hood of the big truck, working on the faulty engine. In a role reversal Pablo was giving instructions to Randy as his assistant. Pablo was the company's chief mechanic, an expert on cars and trucks since his younger years, and Randy willingly took direction from him while admiring his boy's skill.

They talked as they worked, avoiding the painful topic of the recent disruptions in the tribe. "So how's my little brother Ben doing, Pablo? Coming along OK is he?"

"He's doing great, sir. As you know we have a small team of mechanics but I've made Ben my personal assistant and we work real close. He has a natural flair for this kind of work and I often give him jobs to do on his own, so he gets all the credit, and I love the look of pride on his face."

Randy smiled, "Thanks for taking care of him, buddy. You're treating him just the way I would. Damn I'm proud of you. I remember that plucky young kid I rescued from that crummy garage in the desert in your old dungarees held up by just one strap. And that ass! I'll never forget the first sight I got of that perfect butt. And now look at you all this time later, a strapping young buck in jeans and boots, no shirt. Damn, with that body you got on you, you are one hot, sexy young stud."

"Made by you, sir," Pablo grinned. "Hey, hold that wrench tight. We get this part fixed and we're done."

Randy looked over at the concentration on Pablo's handsome Mestizo face with its high cheek bones, square jaw and almond-shaped eyes. It was streaked with grease now, which Randy found doubly sexy. As they came to the end of the job Randy said, "Er, remember that conversation we had earlier about that double knee to the groin you hammered me with?"

Pablo looked up in alarm. "Yes, sir. Does it still hurt? You think there's any real damage down there?"

"I don't think so, kid, judging by the boner I've got in my jeans just looking at you." Pablo grinned and focused back on the engine.

Randy reminisced. "Man, when you were a new young mechanic here, all the times I looked out of my trailer office during the lunch break and watched you bending over an engine, that gorgeous butt straining under your dungarees. Remember how I'd yell for you to come to the office, I'd lock the door behind you, pull down your dungarees and fuck your ass?"

"I'll never forget it, sir. Every lunch break when you'd be in your office I'd wait for that call. Sometimes it came, sometimes not. Shit, I used to clench my ass, shove my hands in my pockets and pull the dungarees tight over my butt hoping you were watching. Those were the days, eh?"

"Yeah, well you may have grown up into a macho hunk of a mechanic but you're never too old, boy. I'm still the boss."

"Yes, sir," Pablo said dutifully. They put the finishing touches to the engine and Pablo said, "Done – good as new. OK sir, I can take it from here. I'll just start the engine so I can listen to it and fine-tune the timing."

"Good job, man. I'll go to the office and get us a couple o' beers." Randy walked to the trailer office, pulled two beers from the small fridge and stood at the window watching.

Pablo went round to the truck's cab and stretched one leg up to the high step to pull himself in, making his jeans pull tight over his ass. The engine roared to life, he gunned it a couple of times, then got out and leaned under the hood to make the adjustment, his ass thrust in the air. The oily rag hanging out of his back pocket only accentuated the mounds of his ass.

He repeated these moves several times and Randy rubbed the bulge of his cock in his jeans. "Shit damn," he groaned. "Fuck, I've gotta have that." As he had done so often in the past he yanked open the trailer door and yelled, "Boy, get your ass in here ... now!"

Pablo shut down the engine, clanged the hood shut and Randy watched him approach. In past years the young mechanic in greasy dungarees would scamper across the site, eager to do his master's bidding. But now the muscular jock mechanic strode confidently toward the trailer, the rag in his back pocket swinging behind him.

"Something you need, sir?" he asked with a touch of arrogance as he came in.

"Damn right there is," Randy growled, "Turn round ... brace yourself." Pablo turned to face the drafting table, leaned forward and braced his hands on the edge, arms straight, head bent down, legs apart, his ass on full display. "Holy fucking shit," Randy growled, clamping his hands on the stretched denim and digging his fingers into the solid mounds.

"Man, I want that ass. It belongs to me and I can do whatever I fucking want to it. Including this." He reached round, ripped open the jeans and pulled them down from Pablo's ass. He stared at the perfect white globes and squeezed them again, then raised his arm and slapped them, one cheek then the other, watching them bounce under the blows as red handprints appeared on the white flesh.

He yanked his own jeans open, pulled out his raging dick and pressed it between the cheeks. "You want it dry? Think you can take it?"

"Try me, stud," Pablo boasted, no longer a compliant boy but the stud mechanic, a match for any man. "Aaagh! His body tensed, his hands gripped the table tight and he stood firm as the huge, thick shaft slammed deep inside him. "Yeah, do it, man," he yelled. "I beat the shit out of you, thrashed you good, tied you up drenched in jizz and piss. Now it's payback time."

"Damn right it is," Randy roared and his cock became a piston driving in and out of the macho mechanic's ass.

But far from howling in pain, Pablo sneered, "That all you got, asshole?"

"Damn you, boy." Randy pulled out and spun Pablo around. He grabbed his waist, picked him up bodily and slammed him on his back on the drafting table. He pushed his legs back and stared down at the muscular jock, shirtless, legs and boots high in the air, jeans pulled down just below his ass. "Now I can watch you while I ream that gorgeous ass. Here it comes, boy."

Again he plunged his dry shaft between the ass cheeks and down into his gut, but still Pablo barely flinched. Randy reached forward, slapped his chest, then rolled his nipples tight in his fingertips. Pablo's response was to reach up and do the same to Randy. He clenched his ass tight round Randy's dick, making him howl.

"Fuck you, boy, you are really asking for it."

"Damn right I am. Come on, man, let's see what you got."

Randy turned up the heat in one of his legendary savage fucks, pile-driving his rod in the ass of the tough, handsome mechanic, his face and bare chest streaked with grease, face thrashing from side to side on the table, black hair whipping over his brow. But years of getting fucked by the ferocious gypsy had steeled Pablo to treatment like this and he now defiantly hammered Randy's pecs with his fists.

"You taught me well, stud," Pablo growled. "You taught me to resist anything you can dish out. No way you're gonna break me like I broke you. I'm not a boy anymore who surrendered to you every time. You'll never make me submit to you now, asshole."

Randy's eyes blazed for an instant, then settled into a knowing smile. And gradually the pounding got slower. "There's more than one way to make a man submit, boy. I can make any man surrender to me, even a tough son-of-a-bitch like you."

Pablo looked up at the laser blue eyes piercing his – and he knew it was true and moaned, "No ... no ... I can't ... oh shit." Randy was now sliding his pole in and out of Pablo's ass, pulling out, pausing, teasing, then burying it again deep inside. He leaned forward and pinned Pablo's wrists to the table beside his head, all the time gazing at him with those hypnotic blue eyes.

"This is your old man fucking you now, boy, the way he did all those years ago when he made you fall in love with him. Remember this?" He pushed his cock all the way in, pressed the head against the inner sphincter, then eased over it into the deepest fiery chamber. Pablo gave an ecstatic yell, but this was only the start.

Randy pulled back a few inches, then eased in again, then back, so he was massaging the sphincter with the hard corona of his cock's head. It drove Pablo wild and as he gazed up at the mesmerizing blue eyes set in the dark chiseled gypsy features he knew he was lost.

Randy's voice too became hypnotic. "I know I can't break you with force anymore, kid – I trained you too well how to be tough. But I can always make you surrender like this and always will. You feel that? You feel your master's cock in your ass? So I wanna hear it. You're still my boy, right? And I'm your master."

"Yes, sir," Pablo said meekly, the tough, macho jock suddenly reverting to the boy who had always loved and worshipped his hero. "I love you, sir."

"And now you're gonna submit to me by shooting your load all over that gorgeous body, right?"

"Yes, sir." Pablo was breathing hard, straining to hold back his orgasm as Randy's cock tormented his ass.

"And when I see you cum, maybe, just maybe, I'll bust my load in your ass – if you ask just right." Randy bent further forward until their faces were inches apart and Pablo was drowning in the pale blue eyes. "Right," the hypnotic voice said, "do it now, boy. Cum for you master."

Completely overpowered by the smoldering gypsy Pablo groaned, "Oh yeah ... I love you, sir ... I'm your boy ... you're making me cum ... I gonna cum ... I'm gonna cum ... aaah!" His eyes opened wide, his body shuddered and a ribbon of cum shot from his cock all the way up to his face, then another splashing on his chest and abs.

As his body convulsed in orgasm he pleaded, "Cum inside me, sir, let me feel your juice in my ass. Please, sir, I'm begging you, please cum inside me, sir."

Randy smiled, pulled his cock all the way back ... then plunged in and erupted deep in his ass, making the young mechanic howl in the joy of knowing that he was still his master's boy. And no matter how tough and dominant he became, even if he became Randy's physical equal, he would always be his boy and Randy would always be his hero.

Randy gazed down at the handsome young jock, his chest and face smothered in grease, sweat and cum. "Damn, that looks so fucking hot, kid. I'm proud you're my man." He bent down and clamped his mouth over Pablo's in a tongue-probing kiss. When he pulled back his face broke into a grin. "Remember how this always ended? I would pull out of your ass, stuff my dick back in my pants and say, "OK, boy, break's over. Get your ass back to work."

"Yeah," Pablo grinned. "Not this time though, eh? I seem to recall something about a beer."

A few minutes later they were lounging in chairs swallowing beer and Pablo grinned, "Well, seems a double knee to the groin don't slow you down any. Your balls are as healthy as ever."

"Ah, you know me, man. Damn near indestructible. But, er, do you know what's happening with Darius and Zack?"

Pablo chuckled. "When I left them Darius had everything in hand. I think they're gonna be just fine, and Darius will probably be staying at Zack's house for quite a while.

"Leaving you all alone, eh? Well, if that's the case, can I bunk in with you in your rooms until we see how the dust settles? Obviously I can't go back to my place and, anyway, Bob will be with Mark from now on. `Course, I could sleep here in the trailer. Wouldn't be the first time ..."

"Of course you gotta stay with me, man, and we'll ride out the storm together." Pablo shrugged. "`Course, sharing a bed I can't guarantee you won't get your ass fucked a lot. I mean, payback is payback, and the way I see it, it's my turn next."

Randy laughed. "Fuck you, kiddo. God I love you." They clinked beer bottles. It was a deal.

And so Randy and Pablo were reconciled – closer than ever. And so were Zack, Darius and Miguel at Zack's house. But there was still a long way to go, a lot of hills to climb before any semblance of normalcy returned to the tribe.

At the eye of the storm were Bob and Mark, who at that moment were lying in bed together in the master suite. They had just made love again, which Mark considered the most effective way to take Bob's mind off Randy and the wreckage of the last few hours.

But they both knew that facts had to be faced and Bob said, "Mark, it's no good, I gotta get a grip and check on what's happening. The guys will look to me for leadership – and I have no idea what direction to lead them. Thank god the senior boys took charge the way they did."

"Yeah," Mark smiled, "they were something else the way they confronted their men, each in his own way – Pablo trashing Randy, the twins rubbing salt in the wounds by making him eat food and drink water like a dog. They acted while we men hesitated."

"Yeah, but I wonder how it went from there. The guy who'll know that is your boy Jamie. OK if I call him?"

Mark agreed, Bob dialed his number and said, "Jamie, good you're there. I'm here with Mark and we were wondering what's going on. You seem to be the point man on this senior boy group action stuff. Do you know anything?"

"I sure do, sir. You know that Darius followed Zack and Miguel over to Zack's house. Well he called me later and said there had been a big row but he and Pablo set up some kind of wild leather bondage scene and, well, long story short, the crazy thing worked and Darius, Zack and Miguel are all hunky dory – tighter than ever. Trouble is, I don't know where they go from here. Right now they're holed up in Zack's place."

"And, er, what about Randy?"

"Oh Pablo took care of that, sir. You know those two, cut from the same cloth. Anyway, Pablo went to him and they seem to have patched things up. I saw them leaving with Randy's arm over Pablo's shoulder. I'm guessing they were going to the construction site where I've no doubt they're taking refuge in hard labor like Randy always does when the shit hits the fan. Anyway, things have calmed down a bit, but it's still a bit iffy. I mean I wouldn't want Miguel or Zack to come face to face with Randy anytime soon."

"Hm, you're right. Leave that to me, Jamie. Thanks for the heads up – and keep me posted."

"He's a great kid, that boy of yours, Mark. Calm, level-headed – takes after you. I think I'll call Steve. I promised I'd keep in touch with him. The good doctor usually has some ideas in that devious therapist's brain of his."

Bob pushed his speed-dial for Steve and gave him a rundown of everything that had happened since Steve left the brunch earlier. "So, thanks to Darius, Zack and Miguel have buried the hatchet – and not in each other's back, I'm happy to say. But we're a bit concerned about where they go from here. They can't stay cooped up in Zack's house for the rest of Miguel's stay in L.A. until he leaves a week from now."

"Hmm, you're right Bob," Steve said pensively. "But you've given me an idea. Leave it with me. I'll call Zack right now and call you back."

When Steve called Zack's house Zack put him on speaker phone and the three of them listened as the doc cut right to the chase. "Zack, Darius, Miguel, I hear things are back on track for you and I'm pleased to hear it. Quite the little family. But I think it's essential that, for now, you put some distance between you and the tribe. Another confrontation could light the spark of another brush fire as bad as the last."

"I agree, Steve," Zack said, "but Miguel has almost a week left of his vacation and I don't want him to high-tail back down to his hotel. We've still got some healing to do."

"Right, so do it up here," Steve said. "Listen, this evening Hassan is bringing his boy Eddie up from his guest house on the property here for dinner. So Lloyd and I would like to invite you three too. And if things go well, stay the rest of the week with us – we have plenty of room. It would be like a mini-vacation for you all, give you a chance to shake off all the dust and ashes of this miserable business." The three men looked at each other and nodded enthusiastically.

"Miguel," Steve continued, "you didn't really meet our macho Marine Hassan at brunch today. You were, er, rather monopolized by Randy. But he's a great guy, a tough alpha male like yourself and built like a brick shithouse. And you'll love his boy Eddie – if you can get a word in sideways," Steve chuckled. "But Darius can keep a check on the kid – Eddie looks on Darius as his hero.

"Plus we have Tommy, our house manager here, to take care of us – that's right, of course you know him a little from when he worked at your hotel – Thomas he was then. I've just spoken to Lloyd who's all for it. Apart from anything else Lloyd is addicted to hot-looking men – and he himself ain't exactly chopped liver. That's why he's my lover. So what do you say, guys?"

Zack looked eagerly at the other two and replied, "Steve that's a real generous offer – you're such a great guy. After what's gone down in the last day or two, a week in a grand house in the Hollywood Hills would be just what the doctor ordered."

"Well, it's what Doctor Steve has ordered," Steve chuckled. "OK, see you guys this evening – cocktails around seven – dress casual – real casual."

Steve called Bob back and told him of the arrangements. Bob thanked him profusely and turned to Mark. "Phew, things are turning out better than I could have hoped. I think that covers all the bases for now. I gotta go see the twins, thank them for everything they did and keep them up to date. I know they're worried about me and missing me."

He paused and looked intently at Mark. "And, er, Mark ... what about Jamie? He's the only one who's left all alone, and probably thinks he's gonna spend the night alone too, as you're up here with me."

"Jesus, Bob, you're right. What am I thinking – neglecting my beautiful boy like that? Damn, he's been true blue though all this bullshit and that's how I thank him. Bob, I gotta go to him, think of a way to make it up to him."

"Yes, you should. And while you're at it, you can take your cop uniform back down there with you." He indicated the uniform hanging over a chair, the boots beside it on the floor. "It's been here ever since you came directly up here after your last shift and changed your clothes here."

"Yeah, sure, buddy." Mark picked up the uniform, then paused and smiled. "That's it, of course, buddy. Dammit, I know exactly how to make it up to my hot surfer boy. I know what he loves best in the world.

As Bob had guessed, Jamie was downstairs in the apartment he shared with Mark, wearing his usual unlaced sneakers, surfer trunks and a loose faded tank top over his golden-tanned torso. He was feeling solitary, prepared to spend the night alone, but he didn't feel sorry for himself. He was a generous young guy, something else he had learned from Mark. He knew how Bob must be hurting and did not resent Mark spending time with him, comforting him.

As for the other boys in their little conspiracy, Jamie was pleased things had worked out for them too. Darius was reunited with Zack and Miguel; Pablo was back with his dad, his hero Randy; and the twins ... well the twins had each other as always, and were probably even now working happily in the kitchen – or were in bed making love.

Yeah, all in all things had worked out pretty good. Jamie sighed and thought of Mark. With everything that had gone on he hadn't had sex with his handsome police officer for a couple of days. He missed him like mad but realized Mark had other more important things to do. He had a clear image of the Greek God cop in his mind and stroked his cock though his surfer trunks and pinched his nipple with the other hand.

He wanted to jerk off fantasizing about Mark but saved it for later in bed. Besides, he had brought some paperwork across from the office that he intended to work on to pass the time before bed. So, with another sigh, he sat at his desk, opened the folder and looked down at the spreadsheet he was working on, his tousled blond hair falling over his brow.

He became so engrossed in his work that he was startled when the door opened. He whirled round and saw the figure of the police officer in full uniform – a black shirt, short sleeves pushed back over his biceps, with a white triangle of T-shirt at the neck. His black serge uniform pants with a silver stripe down the sides were tucked into high shiny black motorcycle boots.

Standing in the doorway, legs apart, backlit by the setting sun, the handsome blond cop looked like he had stepped from the pages of a homoerotic magazine.

"What the fuck?" the cop barked. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, boy? You know how I want you every evening when I come in. Naked, on the bed – now!"

"Yes, sir," Jamie gasped. "I'm sorry, sir ... I didn't know you'd be ... sorry sir." Mark watched as the young surfer jock jumped to his feet, kicked off his sneakers, yanked off his tank-top, and dropped his board shorts. Naked, his golden tan set off by the tan lines at his flawless white ass, he threw himself on his back on the bed and pulled his legs back, offering his ass.

His heart was pounding with excitement and his rigid cock was already oozing pre-cum as he stared at the muscular blond cop walking toward him, stroking the bulge in his uniform pants and growling, "Looks like I've gotta teach you a lesson, boy ..."

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 372

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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