A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 55 By Rob Williams
IN THIS CHAPTER Darius gets into big trouble with a biker gang. "The black stud's gonna work. Always wanted a big buck slave, and now we got one." Randy and Pablo confront the gang but their boss has a whip and Randy takes the beating of his life. "Not such a stud now, are you, asshole?" the thug sneers. "I'll cut that body to ribbons. Let me hear you scream, big guy."
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A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - Part 55
Darius was having a bad day. In fact he had been having a bad week. It was some weeks now since his big fight with Pablo, which had resulted in harsh punishment by Randy; all three of the boys spent a weekend scrubbing the empty, sun-baked pool. But things were not entirely patched over and their relationship was still rocky.
Part of the problem was Darius's endless flights into fantasy. Most of the time this led to harmless imaginings centered on beautiful men. But it had its negative side too, like now. Darius had got it into his head, fantasized, that Pablo and Jamie were getting close ... too close ... and no amount of Pablo's reassurance to the contrary helped.
Now, to make matters worse, work was a problem, and it centered on the new hire, Lloyd. Now that Randy had embraced him as the full-time architect there was an intimacy between them that seemed to go deep. Up to now Darius had always spent much of his shift as foreman discussing projects with Randy. But now Randy's mind was on future planning and that was Lloyd's expertise. So the two men spent long hours in the trailer hammering out the details of the two new projects they were taking on, to the neglect of Darius.
Randy was so engrossed with Lloyd that he was inadvertently abrupt with Darius, and the final straw came at the lunch break. Darius routinely ate lunch with Randy in the trailer, but now things had changed and Randy was short with him.
"Hey, kid," he said. "Lloyd and I are busy in here. Have your lunch with the crew outside." And the trailer door closed in his face.
Darius gritted his teeth for the rest of the day until he left work for the weekend. He was in a foul mood when he got home and hit the roof when he saw Pablo talking and laughing with Jamie.
"Fuck you, asshole," he shouted. "I don't know why I bother to come home at all. Seems like you got everything you need right here. You don't need me. These days nobody does."
Pablo lost his cool completely. "Oh shut the fuck up, dude. What? I can't talk to my buddy here? If it bothers you so much why do you come home? I'm sick of your twisted fantasies. Why don't you just get the hell out and leave me alone?"
The sound of the crashing door echoed round the house as Darius stormed out. A small part of him knew he had over-reacted but he was not thinking straight. He was running on hurt and anger as he jumped into his truck and slammed his hands on the steering wheel.
"Fuck him. And fuck Randy. Fuck the lot of them. They don't need me. Nobody does. Well I don't need them either. Shit, there are plenty of guys would go ape-shit for me. I can get whatever I want. I'll show them." He sped off over the hill to Silver Lake and wound up at one of the area's gay leather bars.
It was early evening, so the room was pretty empty. Darius slumped over the bar and ordered a beer. "And keep them coming," he said to the bartender.
Half an hour later he was drunk. He became aware of a guy a few stools over looking at him. Shit, the guy was a leather fantasy, dressed in full biker gear from his cap and dark glasses down to his heavy motor cycle boots. His voice was gruff.
"What's the matter, kid? Your boyfriend dump you?"
"You might say that. Everyone dumped me."
"Nah ... good looking stud like you? Forget the fuckers. Who needs `em? Wanna come for a ride?"
Darius looked over at the leatherman and, through his drunken haze, the guy looked kinda hot, though he couldn't see the face well behind the dark glasses. One of his fantasies was a biker in full leather and this guy sort of fit the bill. Without thinking Darius said, "Sure, why not? Fuck `em all. I'll show them."
In a few minutes he was astride the guy's bike, his arms wrapped round the black leather jacket, and they sped away. "Where we going anyway?" he shouted over the roar of the engine.
"Palmdale!" the guy yelled back.
Pablo slept alone that Friday night, though he didn't sleep much. This was the first night they had been apart without Pablo knowing where Darius was. It was unheard of for Darius to take off without telling his lover where he was going.
Pablo spent Saturday in a mood of gloom and self-recrimination. He should never have said what he did to Darius, telling him to get the hell out. He turned to Randy for reassurance.
"He's gone," he said. "And it's all my fault. He was in a foul mood ... something had been bothering him at work all week ... and I didn't support him. It's my fault."
Randy winced when he heard this. He knew immediately what had caused Darius's `foul mood.' Randy had been so involved with Lloyd, so close to him, that Darius's nose had been put out of joint. Shit! Still, he tried to reassure Pablo.
"Don't worry kid. Just a lover's quarrel. Every relationship has its ups and downs. He'll be back."
But he wasn't. Saturday dragged into Sunday morning and still no Darius. Even Randy started to worry and shared his concern with Mark. The cop said he would put the word out at his Division for his buddies to keep an eye open for Darius's truck.
As it was one of their own who was personally involved the cops paid special attention and the results were amazingly fast. Darius's truck was found parked in a red zone close to a gay leather bar in Silver Lake and it had a parking ticket. It had apparently been there since Friday. Seems Darius must have gone to the bar and left with someone.
"Jesus Christ," Pablo wailed. "Where the fuck is he?"
Darius was at that moment wondering the same thing. His fantasy had become a nightmare.
He had clung onto the biker as they raced north, apparently headed to Palmdale. He wasn't sure where that was, except it was north of the city, pretty remote, and as the wind blew in his face for the hour-long ride he started to become sober, then anxious, then panicked.
"Hey, man" he shouted. "I'm not into this anymore. Take me back to the city."
The biker's only response was to laugh and speed up, and the only thing the scared young black guy could do was hang on. But he at least had the presence of mind to pay attention to where they were going in the desolate, empty landscape. Finally, in the sparse, sandy wastes outside of Palmdale they swung off toward Leona Valley and then bumped onto a dirt trail, under an old arch that said `Skull Head Ranch.' They bumped up the trail to an old, sprawling house. Standing in front was a massive, bearded biker in full leather.
"Hey. What you got for us there, buddy?" The guy was obviously the boss of the outfit. "You nabbed a good one this time. Yes sir, a fine black slave. Just what we need."
The two guys pulled the terrified boy off the bike, dragged him to a small hut and threw him in. The sound of a key turning in a padlock filled Darius with panic and despair.
The next morning, in this God-forsaken place miles from anywhere, Darius stood in the blazing sun stripped to the waist in jeans and boots. There were four of them, all in full leather, sitting around grinning at him. The boss got up and towered over him.
"Here's the deal, stud. We need us a drainage ditch all the way to the road, and me and the boys, well we ain't much for digging. That's why my boy here picked you up. You look like a tough dude. You'll do fine. Oh, and by the way. Don't even think of trying to get away. We're in the middle of nowhere here and one of the boys'll be watching you. If you don't cooperate I'll rip that fine body of yours to pieces. See this?"
The thug held a long bull whip that he cracked on the ground. Darius knew better than to say anything. Just go along with this, he thought, at least for now. His cell phone and wallet had been taken from him so he had no way to alert anyone. In mounting despair he picked up the shovel and began digging as instructed.
The four leathermen sat around and drank beer watching him work. "Hell," one of the bikers said, "that sure is a sweet sight. Look at that fine black stud work, will ya? Always wanted a big buck slave, and now we got one."
As the hours dragged on the men were relentless ... and they weren't kidding about the whip. From time to time, when Darius slowed down, one of the men picked up the whip and curled it across his rippling back muscles, causing him to howl with pain. Darius had to keep his mind occupied, had to stay sane. As time went by he tried to fantasize his way through the fear and the pain. And this was one hell of a fantasy.
He imagined a beautiful black stud captured by a gang of bikers, put to work, stripped to the waist, as slave labor. As the whip lashed his back he saw in his mind the beautiful black muscles buck and flex as the pain ripped through his body. He saw sweat pour off the tortured body, streaming down and soaking the crotch of his pants, the huge cock outlined underneath. At one point the beaten man fell to his knees exhausted and only the repeated lashes forced him to stagger to his feet again and resume digging.
The big stud endured the agony for hour after hour. His muscles rippled and flexed as he pounded the shovel into hard-scrabble earth. His body ached and spasmed and when he took a breather the lash wound mercilessly around his back and chest. His body heaved with rasping breaths and his gleaming torso was striped with the marks of the brutal whip.
It was an extreme fantasy that, back home, would have kept him roused for a long time until it made him shoot a hot load of cum.
But not this time. For the first time, reality surpassed fantasy. Every hot image that came to his mind was now real ... agonizingly real. The magnificent black stud forced into slave labor, the gleaming muscles pushed to their limits as the digging continued. The exhaustion forcing the man to his knees, humbled in the dirt. The string of the lash as his sweat-soaked body was whipped savagely until he pulled himself to his feet and forced himself to work again.
It was all real. It was a nightmare.
Sunday came and Darius was near the end of his endurance. He was moaning now, tears of pain and misery streaming down his handsome face. But at midday came some relief.
"OK, boys," the boss said. "Chow time. Let's go inside and eat. This asshole's not going anywhere. He's nearly done for, anyway. Save your energy, black boy. You're gonna need it." And with a guttural laugh he and the other three went into the house.
Darius sank to his knees in despair and exhaustion. The hopelessness of his situation overwhelmed him and he began to sob. But soon his survival instinct took over. He stood up and looked around him. Not much to see ... trash everywhere, old chairs and tables where the bikers had been sitting, overflowing ashtrays, empty bottles, and ... deliverance! One of the men had left his cell phone on the table.
Adrenaline surge through Darius's broken body and he lunged forward. He picked up the phone ... it was fully charged. Shit, most of Darius's numbers were on his own phone's speed dial ... but he did remember one by heart. But he had to be fast ... he heard the men's voices ... they were coming back. He dialed frantically ... it rang for precious seconds. Then, thank God, a voice answered. Darius's head was crystal clear as he spoke a few words.
"Palmdale. Leona Valley. Skull Head Ranch. I love you dude."
He threw the phone back on the table just before the men reappeared. And his torment continued.
"I'm coming too," Pablo said. Since the moment his cell phone went dead he had been in a frenzy of action.
"No," Randy said. "I'm going alone. I won't put you in danger."
Pablo grabbed the big man and dug his fingers into his arm. His eyes were blazing with determination.
"I'm going too. With or without you."
Randy recognized the tough kid he had adopted. "That's my boy," he grinned, and they piled into the truck.
Surprisingly, it wasn't that hard to find, remote as it was. They sped up Highway 14 to Palmdale breaking every speed limit. After an hour they turned off toward Leona Valley and drove through the desolate scrub landscape.
"Jesus, this is the back of beyond," Randy breathed. "OK, keep your eyes peeled, kid."
Randy drove more slowly now ... didn't want to miss it. "There!" Pablo yelled, pointing to the arch with the Skull Head Ranch sign. Randy stopped the truck.
"What a fucking shithole," he breathed. "OK, kid here's the plan. We don't know how many of them there are or even if Darius is still here. I want you under the tarpaulins in the back. While I distract them try to get out and take a look around."
Pablo got out, scrambled onto the flatbed and hid under the tarps. Randy drove up the long dirt road but got only half way. Blocking the truck was one of the bikers, legs astride in the middle of the road. Randy got out and faced him. Wearing his usual cargo pants and old tank top Randy was an intimidating sight, his muscular torso bulging under the tank.
"Who's the boss around here?"
"Fuck off, man. The boss don't talk to strangers."
"He'll talk to me, asshole." The guy didn't even see the brutal fist that slammed into his face and sent him sprawling in the dirt unconscious. Randy dragged him to the side of the road and got back in the truck. He drove onward right up to the ramshackle building and jumped out. Two more bikers came out of the house.
"Who the fuck are you?" one of them growled.
"I've come for my boy."
"Well you can just turn your ass around and get the hell outa here. We ain't got no boy."
Randy turned sideways so that, as the thugs faced him, the truck was behind them, and he glimpsed Pablo slipping over the side.
"Don't fuck with me, you shitheads," Randy growled. You've got my boy. I'll give you five seconds."
One of the thugs took a swing at Randy but he blocked the punch with his left hand and slammed his right fist into his gut. The leatherman doubled over with a howl and fell to his knees. The other guy sprang at Randy from behind, threw his arms round him and locked them behind his neck in a brutal full nelson. The first man staggered back to his feet and began slamming his fist into Randy's chest and stomach as he was held in an iron grip from behind.
Randy thrashed his legs and arms in a wild effort to free himself but the rain of blows continued. Then he saw over the guy's shoulder the sweet sight of Pablo running forward swinging a tire iron. Randy brought his knee upward and crashed it into the guy's balls. As the biker doubled over Pablo slammed the tire iron into his stomach, then again across his back. He crashed to the ground senseless.
Randy took a deep breath and flexed his muscles, summoning all his strength. Still being held in the grip of the full nelson he pushed his back into his captor's stomach and leaned far forward. He doubled over and, with the yell of a warrior, heaved the biker up over his back, tossing him forward over his head, and finally slamming him to the ground in front of him with a mighty crash. Pablo stomped on the fallen body but the guy felt nothing. He was already out cold.
"That was awesome, sir." Pablo's eyes shone in admiration. Then he was serious again. "Darius is here ... tied up out back."
"Go take care of him back there. I'll clean up here"
Pablo disappeared round the back of the house and Randy was preparing to tie up the two unconscious thugs when he heard a roar behind him. He turned to see the massive, hulking figure of the biker boss come racing out of the house. Before Randy could react, the mountain of a man slammed bodily into him and the force sent him crashing to the ground.
The giant leatherman picked up the whip from the ground, cracked it once then brought it curling round the Randy's chest and back. Trying to avoid the brutal lash the construction worker rolled over and over in the dirt. But the whip cracked again and again against his body and soon his tank was ripped into shreds and his bulging muscles were striped with lash marks as the brutal whipping intensified.
The biker leered down at the helpless bodybuilder as he thrashed the beautiful, muscular body writhing on the ground. Randy's battered, near naked torso twisted frantically, streaked with dirt and gleaming with sweat. He screamed in pain as lash after brutal lash ripped into his back and chest. He heard the taunting voice as the huge biker toyed with him.
"Not such a stud now, are you, asshole?" the thug sneered. "Let me hear you scream, big guy," and another savage blow caused the tortured muscle stud to howl in agony. Randy tried to get to his feet and was halfway up when the whip wound round his legs and brought him crashing back to earth. Again he staggered to his feet and started to run but whip curled round his chest and jerked him backward, bringing him crashing down. He knew he was losing the fight as he crawled in the dirt and the massive brute continued to taunt him.
"You won't get away from me, shithead. I'm the boss here and I'm gonna enjoy breaking your beautiful body. Then I'll ruin that pretty face of yours. Think you're hot stuff, don't you? You won't be so hot when I've finished with you. I'm gonna cut you to ribbons, stud. When I've broken you I'm gonna chain you up and put you to work along `a my new black slave."
The muscular, tortured man was taking the beating of his life. He rolled over and over, crawled, stumbled, trying to escape the whip, but the biker followed him, increasing the tempo of the beating as the merciless lashes rained down on his naked chest, his back, his shoulders, streaking his agonized body with vicious red stripes. He was near to exhaustion when he screamed in agony as an especially well-aimed lash landed brutally across his balls.
The excruciating pain in his groin jolted his shattered body and gave him one last shot of adrenaline. As he looked up at the bearded, leering face looming in triumph over him, the full force of his rage surged through him. As the whip crashed down once more he held up his forearm and let the lash curl round it. His shoulder and biceps flexed and, with a massive heave, he jerked the whip out of the guy's fist.
He grabbed the handle and, still lying on his back cracked the whip so it curled round the thug's massive neck. Still holding the whip Randy pulled himself upright with one move, came up to the startled biker and smashed his fist into his face. Despite the beating he had taken, Randy's full strength returned and his fists became weapons. The thug staggered backward under the savage rain of blows to his face ... right, left, again and again.
Randy could have finished him off but he wanted to prolong the vicious punishment of the ugly brute. Like a wild animal he rained blow after blow on the shattered giant until he fell to his knees. Randy grabbed the neck of his shirt and continued to pound his face, one side, then the other. Throughout the vicious pounding Randy screamed at him with uncontrolled rage.
"You fucking animal! You dare to use my boy as a slave. He belongs to me, asshole. You thrash me like a dog and think you won't pay? This is me, you're dealing with, shithead. Not so tough without the whip, uh? You fucking coward? I don't need no whip. You feel those fists? They're gonna fucking kill you."
As the biker begged for mercy, Randy decided to end it. He heaved the man to his feet and delivered one final massive blow to the jaw. The huge figure arched upward, seemed poised in mid-air, then crashed to the ground senseless.
Randy gazed down at him, eyes wild, breath heaving, the shreds of his tank top clinging to his dirt-caked, sweat-soaked chest, striped and bruised by the lash of the whip. At that moment Pablo came around from the back of the house supporting the exhausted Darius.
Randy's frenzy subsided and he said, "Help me take care of these assholes." They dragged the three men to the fence and tied them securely.
Suddenly they heard a yell and turned to see the first biker who had guarded the road. He had regained consciousness and came staggering toward them. Randy stood in his path, with Pablo behind him.
"He's all yours, kid," said Randy over his shoulder and quickly sidestepped like a matador with a bull. The biker ran forward, straight into Pablo's fist in his gut. As the man screamed and doubled over Pablo followed up with a knee to the groin, then a double forearm smash to the back of his neck. The biker crashed to the ground.
Pablo looked up and grinned. He wiped his hands against each other in triumph as Randy applauded slowly. Then Randy turned to Darius and opened his arms. Still in a daze the boy fell against him and as the strong, safe arms folded round him the tension broke and Darius sobbed.
"You'll never guess what else I found," Pablo said. Things were quiet now. The four dazed bikers were kneeling on the ground immobilized. Their arms were stretched backward over a low fence and roped securely behind them. Darius was regaining his senses and listened to Pablo in amazement.
"I was looking for Darius's wallet and cell phone and I found them in the garage out back. And you'll never guess what else I found. They got closets and boxes full of it." His eyes gleamed as he strung out the suspense.
"Come on, kid," Randy growled impatiently. "Full of what?"
"Drugs! Bags and bags of weed, packets of coke, tons of meth ... hey, you name it they got it. These guys deal in bulk."
"Perfect," Randy said, flipping open his cell phone and hitting the speed dial.
"You OK, buddy?" Mark asked. "What the hell happened?"
"Oh, we met a little resistance but nothing we couldn't handle. Now listen, there's something I want you to do for me." He briefly explained the situation.
"Sure, no problem," said Mark. "That's the County Sheriff's jurisdiction up there. I know a few of the guys there. I'll get onto them and call you right back." The phone went dead but a few minutes later it rang again.
"OK, half an hour tops. The Sheriff was planning a raid on that place but didn't want to get into a SWAT standoff situation. Guess you did their work for them. If you take my advice you'll stay guard there `till you hear the sirens then get the hell out. Unless, of course, you wanna press charges."
"Nah," Randy grinned and rubbed his fists. "I already pressed my own charges. The bastards won't forget that in a hurry. We'll do what you say. Thanks a million, buddy. And be sure to tell the Sheriff to check in the garage out back. See you later."
He turned to the biker boss tied to the fence. "Now, you fucking moron. I think you have something to say to my boy here. He went behind him, grabbed his hair and pulled his face upward. "Darius, come here." Darius stood in front of the man who had brutalized him.
"Now, shithead. You're gonna make real nice to this young man. Say you're sorry ... and make it good." The thug started to protest but another brutal yank of the hair made him think twice. He had already taken a savage beating from Randy and was terrified of him. He groaned, cleared his throat and spoke hoarsely.
"I'm sorry for what we did. Me and the boys apologize."
Randy bellowed. "Not good enough, asshole. You did not address my boy correctly. Now try again."
The biker grimaced in pain as he spoke loudly. "I'm sorry ... sir. I apologize for what we did. Please forgive us, sir."
Randy grinned. "Ok, kid. Might as well show him what you think of his apology. I think you know what we do to scum like this."
Darius grinned back at Randy. His hands went down to his pants, he unbuttoned his fly and pulled out his huge cock. He pointed it at the biker's face.
"No!" the big man howled as he looked at the long black hose. "No ... " but his cries were drowned by a stream of hot, rancid piss hitting him in his tortured face, pouring into his open mouth, his eyes, hair, and flowing down to his black beard. It was a long time since the boy last pissed and the floodgates opened in a stream that never seemed to stop.
"That's my boy," laughed Randy. "Hey Pablo, we don't wanna neglect the other three, do we?"
"Don't seem fair," Pablo agreed. "They look like they need a shower."
Soon all three guys were standing in front to the agonized faces pouring urine all over them. The thugs choked and begged but the deluge kept coming.
"Now that's what I like to see," Randy said as he stood back and looked at the four bikers, kneeling helpless in the dirt, their faces soaked, pouring with hot, yellow piss.
Now they waited. Darius was exhausted and fading fast so Randy made him get into the cab of the truck and sleep. Outside Pablo looked at his master whose shirtless body was still striped with red whip marks. He stroked the big muscles gently.
"You OK, sir? That whip must've been ... "
"Yeah, yeah, kid. My body's taken worse than that. Shit, my balls hurt like crazy, though. The bastard got in a good last crack at them with the whip. Just hope there's no permanent damage down there."
Pablo grinned. "One way to find out, sir. We got a few minutes `til the Sheriff gets here." He quickly pulled down the tail gate of the truck and eased himself up backward so he was sitting on it, facing Randy. He unbuttoned his pants, pulled them down round his ankles, and fell back on the flatbed. Randy looked down at him and shook his head.
"You young son-of-a-bitch. You really are my boy, aren't you?"
"Why don't you prove it, sir?"
The sight of Pablo's perfect ass always roused Randy and he was relieved to feel his dick get hard, despite the pain in his balls. He pushed Pablo's legs up and back, came close up to his ass and pushed his now-rigid dick into his hole.
"Oh, yes sir," Pablo breathed. "Oh, sir that feels incredible. No permanent damage there, I'd say."
"You little fucker," Randy laughed. "I'll show you damage." And the hard pounding began.
The macho heat of battle now found sexual release. Randy rediscovered all his old energy and strength as he looked into his boy's laughing eyes and hammered his ass. All the pain, tension and adrenaline of the last hours, the fight, the beating he had suffered, the revenge he had taken, all of it was now concentrated in the burning ass of the boy he loved. Pablo was hypnotized by the wild man towering above him, his bruised muscles flexed and bulging as his glorious body dominated the boy completely.
Pablo screamed, "I love you, sir!"
"OK, kid. Shoot your load now. Let me see it. Do it for me ... now!
Pablo's cock shuddered and a long stream of warm cum spurted over his young body, stomach, chest and up to his face. At the same time he heard Randy's roar and felt his master's semen pouring deep inside his ass.
They gazed into each other's eyes and no words were needed. After a while their breathing gradually subsided and Pablo smiled at his master. "We did good today, sir, don't you think?"
"We did great ... and you were terrific, kid. We're a team. I'm proud to call you my son."
In the far distance they heard the sound of sirens. Randy quickly pulled his dick out and they both buttoned their pants.
"Time to get the hell out," Randy said. "Here, I'll take this," and he picked up the whip from the ground. He looped it loosely round Pablo's neck and grinned. "Just so you'll remember who's boss, kiddo."
They got into the truck beside the sleeping Darius. Pablo leaned out of the window and yelled to the bound bikers on the fence, "So long suckers!" Randy laughed and sped off down the dirt trail and off toward the highway, just seconds before the Sheriff arrived.
As he sat between his master Randy and his rescued lover Darius, Pablo was happier than he had ever been. His face glowed ... and he wore the whip proudly round his neck all the way home. He was proud to be owned.
Just before they reached the house Darius woke and everything that had happened flooded back to him. He looked up at Randy.
"Sir ... I know I fucked up big time. I'm ashamed and I'm really, really sorry that ..."
"Can it, kid," Randy interrupted. "There's enough blame to go round ... me included. We'll talk about that tomorrow. In the meantime the guy you should apologize to is the kid here. When we get home you two go and make your peace."
And that took no time at all. When they walked through the gate the boys ran off together to their house. They didn't speak much ... didn't need to. In the shower Pablo took care of Darius's battered body ... and then took care of all his other needs. That night they held each other tighter than ever.
Bob had been waiting anxiously for Randy's return and came out to greet him. He stopped suddenly, stunned by the sight of Randy's bruised and striped body, covered in dirt, the ragged remains of his tank clinging to his chest.
"Shit, man, looks like you got banged up real good."
"Yeah," Randy grinned, "but you should see the other guy."
Randy showered and, as they relaxed over beers, they talked about what had happened and what it meant for the future.
"What Darius has to learn," Randy said, "is now that we have two new projects I'll be spending a whole lot of time with Lloyd. At this stage it's all about reconciling his architectural ideas with the construction logistics. That'll take hours of hard work between him and me. That's just the way it is and Darius'll have to get used to it."
"Guess I will too," Bob murmured with an uneasy frown. But it was lost on Randy who was still speaking of Darius.
"Still, I have plans for the punk that I know he'll go for."
And Darius did, big time, when Randy spoke to him the next day in the trailer.
"I know I neglected you, kid, working so closely with Lloyd. But that's gonna continue. Still, I have something in mind for you. See, we'll be opening up two new sites and Jack and I will take charge of them. So that leaves you here. I'm gonna make you the site manager here, and this trailer will become your office. I'll help you pick the right guy for your foreman but the final choice will be yours. Think you can handle it?"
Darius was glowing. "Sir, that's awesome. But I don't deserve it, sir."
Randy's eyes flashed. "Asshole! If I thought you didn't deserve it you wouldn't get it. It'll be a hell of a lot of work, but you're tough and you know the project here inside and out. Any problems, you come straight to me. But this is serious, kid. I want you to lose all that fantasy shit while you're on the job, is that clear?"
"Perfectly, sir. Believe me, I'm cured of all that black slave thing."
Randy turned his head to hide the grin on his face.
As Randy had predicted, his work for the immediate future would be mostly with Lloyd, who had set up an elaborate home office in his small house in West Hollywood ... drafting tables, computers, sophisticated architectural software ... the works. Randy was impressed.
"Shit, man, you've been busy. This looks great." Then he grimaced. "The fun part will be showing me how it all works."
And that took many hours. As they worked closely together they developed a mutual trust and admiration. They were both masters of their own field and respected that in each other. But they were both strong willed, so there were inevitably many points of contention and good-natured arguments.
Underneath it all there was still a dual tension. There was the sexual tension, of course, with the two men working intimately side by side. In fact Lloyd spent much of the day with a permanent hard-on, which he tried to conceal. Also there was the natural tension of two proud men, both arrogant in their ways, both sure that their way was the right way.
The pressure was to come to a head very soon during their meeting with one of the new prospective clients. The hidden cracks in their working relationship would open up and Lloyd would unwisely contradict Randy. The big man was not one to be contradicted ... especially in front of a client.
But that was for tomorrow. For now the atmosphere was congenial ... in more ways than one. Working in Lloyd's house they were deeply immersed in their preparation for the meeting the next day, and there were still some unresolved conflicts when Randy stood up to stretch and caught sight of the clock.
"Shit, will you look at that. One a.m.! Hell, our meeting's at eight in the morning. Time I get home I'll get only a few hours' sleep."
"Why not spend the night here?" Lloyd said lightly. "In the morning we can grab a bite of breakfast and head out together.
"Makes sense," Randy said. "Too late now to call Bob. OK, man. Let's hit the sack."
As they walked into the bedroom Randy was already stripping off his T-shirt. Lloyd's cock leapt in his pants as he saw once again the construction worker's stunning physique. There was no hiding it this time. He took off his shirt, unbuttoned his pants and let them drop. He blushed as he dropped his shorts too and his rigid cock sprang up.
Randy stared at him. He unzipped his pants and, as they fell, his own thick cock leapt out ... raging hard.
Naked now Randy walked toward the trembling architect.
"This has been a long time coming, Lloyd."
TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength -- Part 56"