A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 233 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER: The rivalry between Randy and Mark is legendary, fueled by their mutual lust for Bob. After Mark gets beaten in a savage fight, he takes brutal revenge on Randy. "The gypsy's rugged, tortured face stared up at the cop – wild-eyed, running with sweat, tears and semen, his jaw sagging open." But Dr. Steve hits on a remarkable truth about Randy that could end what he calls "this toxic triangle".

Chapter 233 – "The Toxic Triangle"

Despite all his promises to Bob to the contrary, Randy had done it again. His anger had flared, his inner demons surfaced and he went ballistic. This time it was Mark, the cop, who bore the brunt of his fury. Randy had come home to find Mark having sex with Pete, the Forest Ranger who Randy had met up by the lake, introduced him to man-on-man sex and, as he thought, had taken exclusive possession of him.

"You miserable cock-sucker," Randy had roared at Mark, "you always have to take what's mine." His eyes blazed, fists clenched, veins standing out in his neck. "You fool Bob into thinking he's in love with you, you fuck him and try to take him away from me. Then you take one look at this guy who belongs to me and shove your fucking dick up his ass. What is it about you cops? You all think you're fucking gods who can help themselves to whatever they want."

Randy was wrong on so many counts but that hardly mattered – he was spoiling for a fight. He handcuffed Pete to a tree and forced him to watch as he systematically demolished the muscle-god cop, pounding him into degrading defeat until his magnificent half-naked body was lying broken in the dust, his chiseled features streaked with sweat, tears and semen.

Afterwards, as Randy drove around aimlessly, the enormity of what he had done crashed in on him and he had sought refuge at his brother Steve's house. `He'll know what to do ... he's a shrink, he'll stay calm, won't yell.' Maybe Steve didn't, nor did his lover Lloyd, but Bob did.

"Shit, man, you're fucking pathological, you know that. You're so fucking arrogant, the king of the fucking gypsies, you think you own the fucking world. Don't you ever think of anyone else? You are the most sadistic, egotistical, self-absorbed, just plain selfish asshole I've ever ..."

"Don't say that ... It's not true ... It's not true!"

That was Brandon who, defying all the rules that boys don't get involved in masters' fights, had come up to Steve's house and launched into a spirited defense of Randy, ending with: "Randy treats me like one of the guys, like I belong – he's given me pride in myself. Randy doesn't even see my wheelchair, just the kid who's in it. No one's ever treated me that way and it's changed my life. He's my hero and ... I love him ... He's like the big brother I never had."

Everyone was stunned into silence, even Mario who had followed Brandon up here. Randy picked Brandon out of his wheelchair and wrapped his arms around him in a bear hug. But it was so tight that Brandon said, "Sir, you're ... you're hurting me." Randy relaxed his grip, smiled and said, "Sorry, kiddo. But it's a strange thing, you often do hurt people when you love them too much." He glanced up at Bob who had tears in his eyes.

Then, with Mario's approval, Randy had carried Brandon into a guest room. Lying on the bed Brandon said, "Sir, am I gonna get into trouble for sounding off like that? I know I shouldn't even have been there."

Randy ruffled his hair. "Kid, if anyone gives you trouble they'll have to come through me, and..."

"... and that won't be pretty," Brandon grinned impishly, making them both laugh. Then Brandon turned serious. "Sir, will you get into trouble for what you did?"

"'Fraid so, kiddo, I'm in big trouble ... I fucked up big-time ... really wasted Mark. It's in the rules, I have to get punished by the tribe – by the guy I hurt most. I don't care about that ... I'm tough, I can take whatever Mark dishes out. What worries me is Bob, `cos Mark's a special friend of his. This may be the last straw and he'll finally leave me."

"Oh, he won't do that, sir," Brandon said cheerfully. "See, lately I've watched other guys make love but when I watched you and Bob, sir, it was different – a whole different thing. When Bob looked at you, well, sure it was love but ... I dunno, it was kinda like ... like he walked into your eyes ... like he became part of you somehow. He became ten times more handsome, like he glowed ... like a god or something." He blushed. "Sounds stupid – I'm not so great with words – but one thing I do know, Bob could never leave you, sir. He'd rather chop off an arm."

After the savagery of the day Randy was moved by the sweetness of this boy and when he asked if he could make love to him Brandon smiled, "I thought you'd never ask, sir." He was in heaven, getting fucked by his hero, the man who had changed his life, the man he loved and trusted like a big, protective brother. Maybe Randy had just beaten a guy up, but now he was a tender giant as he lovingly caressed the boy's ass.

When it was over Randy asked Brandon for a favor. "Kid, I would like you to be a friend to my boy Pablo. He's a great kid and idolizes me, tries to copy everything I do, but I'm not such a great role model as you can tell. I fuck up, behave like a total asshole and put him through all this shit. He's probably feeling confused right now, so do you think you could, like, say to him what you just said to the guys out there about me? Might help to restore his faith in me."

"Of course I will sir. And, er, if I could make a suggestion, sir ... as soon as you get home, fuck Pablo. That'll do more than restore his faith."

Randy grinned – "Smart kid," – and ruffled his hair.

Outside, the small group was waiting apprehensively when the door opened and Randy walked out of the room with Brandon lying in his arms. They were both naked, Brandon was smothered in cum and his face was glowing. Randy walked over to Mario and gave the boy back to him, placing him gently in his arms. "Take care of him, Mario."

Then he turned to the three men to face his retribution. Buck naked, his muscular physique gleaming, his massive cock still dripping cum as it swung between his legs, Randy looked magnificent – the King of the Gypsies. He stretched out his arms in a gesture of surrender.

"Here I am," he said. "Do to me what you have to."

There was silence – and confusion. When Randy had first confronted Bob, Steve and Lloyd their reaction was inevitable – anger and frustration that Randy had once again reverted to type, lost control and become a mindless savage. It was like a video on an endless loop – his anger spikes, he thrashes a man, gets a tongue lashing, then physically punished in a ritual before the tribe. He's terrified of losing Bob but then they make love, Bob forgives him and the dust settles – until the next time.

But this time was different. The loop had reached the tongue-lashing stage when the process was suddenly interrupted by a boy, young Brandon, who from his wheelchair had given a brave, impassioned defense of Randy, his hero. They were all so stunned that nobody had objected when Randy carried the boy into the guestroom and made love to him.

Now they were confronted by two contrasting images of Randy – the out-of-control savage and the kind, generous man who had befriended a boy in a wheelchair and transformed his life. Hence their confusion.

Mario carried Brandon to his wheelchair and knelt beside him. Instinctively everyone looked to Steve, the psychotherapist, for guidance. Putting emotion aside Steve was analytical. "OK, the way I see it we have two options. First, we can continue this negative cycle – you all go home, everyone fuming, no-one speaks to anyone until the issue is resolved by physical punishment as brutal as the original offense. And then maybe Bob and Randy patch things up."

"What's the second option?" Bob asked.

Steve smiled brightly. "You all stay to dinner."

The reaction was surprise and confusion. "Steve," Bob objected, "I respect your judgment but if you think I can sit across the table and break bread with this ... animal here, you're mistaken."

"Now listen," Steve said firmly, "when a group is faced with something as uncivilized as this (he shot a glance at Randy) its members can get down in the gutter with it or rise above it. So far the only man who has shown any dignity here is young Brandon and if I can reward him with a friendly meal I intend to do so. I hope Brandon and Mario will join Lloyd and me, and you two can do what you like. You can go home and nurse your bruised feelings, squabble over your toys like petulant first-graders ... whatever. Or you can sit down to dinner like rational adults, like real men, and make the best of a bad situation."

Bob and Randy looked at Steve like sullen children who'd just been sent to their room and Bob said, "I'll stay." Randy grunted, "Me too."

"Good," Steve brightened, "dinner for six then. Mario, Brandon, would you be kind enough to go with Lloyd and help him rustle up some dinner? Mario, maybe you can introduce Lloyd to some Italian delicacies. Seems like if we want really good Italian food we have to fly to Tuscany.

"It will by my pleasure, signore," Mario smiled, restoring a gracious tone to the proceedings. "As a native of Tuscany I think I can oblige."

Thank god for Europeans, Steve thought.

Mario and Brandon eagerly followed Lloyd to the kitchen and Steve turned to Bob and Randy. "You two, come out to the terrace. I have a few words to say to you. He brought a bottle of white wine and three glasses and the three men sat round a small poolside table as the sun sank low over the Santa Monica Mountains.

Steve popped off the cork and poured their drinks. As the mountains were tipped with gold Steve waved his arm to the view and said, "Now that's life – that is the good life – and it's ours – or it could be if you weren't so ..." He sipped his wine. "OK, listen, I'm tired of pussyfooting around this, walking on eggshells. I've given you two so many therapy sessions and it seems to have had no effect at all. I'm beginning to think I must be a lousy shrink.

"So let me lay it out for you. First of all, you two are totally, crazy in love with each other. You're joined at the hip, I've never seen anything like it. And let's get it on record that you are never going to leave each other. You're stuck with each other, in sickness and in health, for richer for poorer'. And on the subject of richer', you Bob are a well-regarded senior vice-president of a major finance company, you drive a top-of-the-line Mercedes, and Randy has built a highly successful construction company of which he's the unquestioned boss.

"You are the leaders of a remarkable group of men, a tribe, and you have boys who worship you. You have those adorable twins, Bob, and you, Randy, have Pablo, who shows so much promise, though god knows what he's feeling right now." Steve counted off on his fingers. "So let's see ... you're both gorgeous ... you're in love ... you are secure in your home ... you are rich and successful ... and you have boys who adore you." He paused, staring from one to the other, then slammed his palm on the table.

"So what in god's name is going on here?" he yelled. `Man, I'm trained to not lose my professional cool but I am so fucking tired of going round and round with you and ending up where we started. I should be spending my time with guys who have real problems, like young Brandon there who's fought a lonely fight all his life to stay independent and is tougher and braver than you'll ever be Randy. Instead I'm lecturing two over-privileged alpha males on why their life is a mess."

Just then there came a peal of laughter from the kitchen. "You hear that?" Steve said. "Now that's life – that's life as it should be led. Those kids are real – you two are ... Well, let's see what you are. You first, Bob. I know Randy and his anger are the instigators of these blow-ups but you are not entirely free of blame. I mean, what exactly do you have going with Mark?

"As I understand it you two are in love with each other – you sometimes even make love – and I've seen you eye-fucking each other when I'm at your house. How do you think that makes Randy feel? How would you feel if Randy and Mark were `in love' and you were always wondering if one day Randy would choose Mark over you? Now that is just plain selfish and..."

"Now just a goddam minute!" Randy leapt to his feet and glared at Steve. "You lay off Bob – he's off limits in all this. The man's a fucking saint and anyone who badmouths him gets my ..."

" ... gets your fist in his face? You gonna slug me, Randy? Man, I am so tired of this fist-swinging act of yours. When are you gonna crawl out of your cave and join the human race, brother? Now sit the fuck down and listen." Randy sullenly obeyed.

"What Brandon said is true – deep down you are a kind and generous man, but all that is buried under the weight of your anger and insecurity. Today you went apeshit seeing Mark getting his rocks off with a guy both you and Bob had already fucked. What is this bullshit that you own every guy you fuck? You're nothing but a goddamn bully.

"You call yourself a leader? You have no right to that title. Right now you've left your tribe in disarray – Mark probably wants to murder you and the boys are scared of what happens next. Way to go, champ. Great leadership. Sometimes I'm ashamed to call you my brother."

Randy was rescued from further abuse by the appearance of Brandon and Mario. "Antipasti, signori?" Mario smiled in classic waiter mode. Lloyd had given them both clean white T-shirts and Mario stood with a napkin over his arm holding a tray of appetizers. Brandon, with a napkin draped over the arm of his wheelchair, was beaming, balancing a tray on his lap with martini glasses and a shaker.

Ignoring the tension in the air, Mario threw a white cloth over the table and he and Brandon set out the hors d'oeuvres and cocktails. Lloyd came out wiping his hands on an apron and announced, "Dinner in twenty minutes, guys." He and Mario sat at the table and Brandon pulled his wheelchair up to it. Lloyd chuckled, "We worked wonders in the kitchen, guys, and the result is Italian food like you never tasted before, thanks to Mario and his sous-chef Brandon here."

Steve and Bob got caught up in their high spirits but Randy left the table and went to sit on the end of the deck, legs dangling over the edge, staring blankly at the view, eyes brimming with tears. Steve came and sat next to him and put his arm over his shoulder.

"I came on pretty strong back there, bro," Steve said. "Guess I lost my cool." Randy grinned wryly, "That makes two of us – must run in the family. Hell, we'd make a good team."

"We could be if you'd let me in, stop resisting me just because I'm this Beverly Hills shrink. You should look on me like a sponsor in a 12-step program ... the minute you feel one of those caveman attacks coming on you call me first to talk you down. We're family after all."

"Nah, I ruin everything," Randy said morosely. "Listen to those guys over there – so happy, even young Brandon, a kid who's been in a wheelchair most of his life. And I'm a total fuck-up."

"You're not a `total' fuck-up Randy. Look at what you and Bob have accomplished since you met. You have an extraordinary tribe of guys who still look up to you as boss. And that happiness you see in Brandon has a lot to do with you. You've been wonderful with him, transformed him. No wonder he hero-worships you, calls you the older brother he never had. I'm so proud of you for that"

"OK, Mister 12-step, where do I go from here?"

"Right, well first we have dinner, then you and Bob sleep the night here." Randy started to protest but Steve said, "I don't want you going back to the house right now, facing Mark and all the guys. When you do go back tomorrow you make things right with that boy of yours, Pablo – he's your adopted son for god's sake. Talk to him – reassure him – make love to him."

"Then comes the punishment, that ritual thing you guys go through down there when a member of the tribe steps out of line – even the boss. I'm not sure I approve of all that as I know Mark will be as brutal to you as you were with him. All seems a bit Medieval to me. But I'll be there with everyone else to make sure things stays safe. You don't have to do it, you know."

"I do, Steve. It's the only way I can salvage any respect from the guys. I would insist on it if it were anyone else and it'll be kind of cleansing for me. I welcome it."

"OK, so when the dust has settled I want to see you, Bob and Mark up here for a therapy session. That's a toxic triangle you three got going there, ready to explode at any time. We gotta look that one straight in the eye, see what we can do. But right now we're gonna join the land of the living. To use your phrase – I'm fucking starving."

Randy looked at Steve with tears in his eyes. "You're right, bro, I have resisted you – never really let you in. Guess I was jealous of you. Well all that's over. I don't know if I ever told you I love you – probably not – but I'm telling you now. I'm proud to call you brother."

From a distance Bob looked over at the two brothers sitting at the edge of the deck with their arms round each other, silhouetted against the golden sky as the sun finally set behind the hills.

In spite of everything dinner was a fairly congenial affair. Lloyd and Mario found a lot in common as Mario's background was in landscaping and, as an architect, Lloyd had a ton of questions. Bob and Steve talked comfortably together about anything and everything – except the current situation.

As for Brandon, he was just thrilled to be there with all these handsome men and relieved that he had not been punished for showing up and defending Randy. He even had some vague idea it had done some good and now talked animatedly to Randy, mostly about work and his experiences as a member of the construction crew.

Bob and Randy didn't make eye contact, except for a few surreptitious glances, and Randy was grateful for Brandon's non-stop chatter. He smiled at him indulgently – as a big brother would.

When the meal was over Brandon and Mario left after hugs with the men – an especially long and tight one between Randy and Brandon which made Brandon whisper, "You're hurting me again, sir." Randy smiled, "Lots more where that came from, kiddo," and lowered him back in his wheelchair.

As directed by Steve, Bob and Randy shared the guest room – very uneasily, both thinking this was a weird idea of Steve's. They didn't speak – had no idea what to say. They took off their clothes without looking at each other (they always slept naked) and got into bed. Unable to shake his anger and resentment Bob turned his back on Randy and kept to the edge of the bed. Randy sighed deeply and did the same. Exhaustion triumphed over discord and they fell asleep.

But sometime during the night they stirred in their sleep and ended up in their usual position – in each other's arms. And that's how they were next morning when Bob stirred. Only half awake he nestled against Randy – until reality crashed in on him. No, no way would he just give in like this as he always had in the past. Anger returned with the memory of the beaten, half-naked Mark lying crumpled in the dirt and Bob slid out of Randy's arms. He needed a shower.

As he got out of bed he realized he had a huge erection – quite normal after sleeping with Randy, always followed by great morning sex. He tried to will it away – cold shower, he thought. In the bathroom he turned on the shower but he couldn't shake the image of Randy naked in bed. The door was still open a crack and he peered through it.

Bob's pulling out of his arms had made Randy stir and he sleepily reached over for him. The emptiness of the bed jolted him awake and the ugly memories of yesterday dispelled his hope of a morning fuck. But his lust was still there in the form of a massive hard-on. "Shit, shit," he murmured softly, burying his face in Bob's pillow and inhaling his scent. He needed Bob so bad, needed to feel him, make love to him – fuck him.

He turned onto his back, pushed down the sheets and grabbed his stiff cock in his fist. He heard the water flowing and knew Bob was in the shower – naked, soaping up that perfect body. "Shit," he murmured again, picturing his lover running soapy hands over his own chest, those sculpted pecs, his washboard abs, under his armpits where Randy had so often buried his face.

He imagined Bob rubbing shampoo into his mass of dark hair, soap dripping onto his face as he ran a facecloth over his chiseled features. Randy was pounding his meat now and gasped as he saw in his mind Bob's hands, thick with shampoo, drop to his crotch where he washed his pubic hair, then the crack of his groin and his balls. He imagined him pulling back his foreskin and stroking his cock swinging between his legs.

Randy moaned as he pictured Bob reaching behind him and grasping the hard white mounds of his flawless ass, then pushing his soapy fingers into the crack. He recalled the many times he had shared the shower with Bob and, when Bob bent over to wash his legs, that's when Randy would come behind him, grab his hips and drive his pole into his lover's ass, making him howl with spasms of pain and pleasure.

The erotic images were driving Randy wild. God he needed that ass – no, not just the ass, he needed Bob, back with him, loving him, not hating him, lying here in his arms. He pumped his cock as he heard the water flowing and imagined Bob rinsing off, the suds sliding down his gorgeous, gleaming wet body.

But Bob was not in the shower. He had left the water running to make Randy think that, but he was still standing looking through the crack of the slightly open door. He too was stroking his own hard cock watching in awe as Randy flexed his muscles pounding his rod with one hand and squeezed his nipple with the other. He was groaning in ecstasy, moaning Bob's name, and with the telepathic connection the men shared Bob could guess exactly what was going through his mind.

He too thought of the naked gypsy in the shower with him, helping him soap his body, then pushing his long shaft deep inside his ass. He knew Randy so well he could tell he was reaching his climax. Just as Randy imagined his cock driving inside his lover, Bob felt the sensation of the thick shaft filling his ass. "I love you, Randy," Bob whispered to himself as he saw Randy's body buck and heard him say quietly, "I love you, man." Both men shot simultaneously, Randy all over his heaving chest and Bob all over the door.

Confused, angry at himself, Bob closed the door quietly and toweled off his cum running down it. Then he did finally get in the shower and soaped himself up, but he couldn't rid himself of Randy's image. It took only a few strokes of his cock to cum again, blasting another load over the shower wall, to be washed away down the shower's drain.

When Bob emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped round his waist, Randy was already standing up in his boxer shorts. With a perfunctory grunt he said, "Hi, sleep OK?"

"Like a log," Bob lied. And no more was said, no more eye contact was made. When they left the guestroom Steve and Lloyd were already having breakfast on the terrace and invited the men to join them. But they both declined, thanked them for their hospitality and left.

"So what did that achieve, O Master Shrink?" Lloyd grinned. Steve smiled enigmatically. "Sowing the seeds, old buddy. Sowing the seeds."

Randy drove his muddy truck down the hill following Bob's Mercedes and could almost feel the sexual heat coming from the sleek sedan. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he said, slamming his hands on the steering wheel.

The night before, when Mario and Brandon left Steve's they had driven together down to the house where they would spend the night. In the truck Brandon was uneasy at first and told Mario how guilty he felt about letting Randy make love to him, especially after Randy had been such a savage to Mark and Pete. But Mario reassured him with a smile.

"I am so proud of you, amico, for the courage you showed in going up there and defending a man you look on as a hero. You defused the situation beautifully and making love to Randy was exactly the right thing in bringing calm to a stressful situation. Don't worry, Steve will help them sort themselves out and, as for us, we're closer than ever, don't you think?" In answer Brandon snuggled up against Mario with a beaming smile on his face.

It was quite late when they arrived home – but the boys were waiting for them breathlessly. The house routine had been disrupted, though Pablo had done his best to carry out Bob's instructions and hold things together. Actually that was not too hard as the boys always had an instinct to circle the wagons in times of trouble, to come together as what Darius always called "a band of brothers." That didn't stop them from pumping the new arrivals for information, with Darius taking the lead, of course.

At his insistence Mario and Brandon related what had happened but Brandon stopped short when he came to the part where Randy had taken him into the bedroom. "Come on, dude," Darius insisted, "don't stop. That's the best part." But Brandon was adamant that what had passed between him and Randy in that room was private, saying archly, "I don't kiss and tell."

"Not even if we threaten to chuck you out of the group?" Mario shot Darius a fierce glance and he flashed his mischievous smile. "Just kidding, Brandon. We're proud of you, dude – you're definitely one of the brothers."

The hubbub continued as the boys speculated on what came next, all except for Pablo who was sitting morosely a short distance away. Brandon extracted himself from the group and wheeled over to him. "I hope you don't mind what I did, dude. I gotta tell you that when Randy took me into that room he said everything was so sour and he needed someone sweet, so... well, he fucked me."

Pablo turned to him – and smiled. "Good for you, kiddo. Knowing Randy the way I do I can see how he needed that. I'm just surprised he actually said it. We're both tough – keep things to ourselves, suck it up."

"Is that what you're doing now, Pablo?" Brandon asked gently. "He's your dad after all, your hero, so you must be worried."

"Me? – Nah," Pablo said fiercely. "Randy trained me to be tough, like him." After a long silence Pablo said quietly, "Tell me again what you told those guys up there."

Brandon repeated his long speech of praise for Randy, how Randy had befriended him, given him pride in himself and changed his life. Pablo listened with rapt attention, his eyes shining. "And you know," Brandon added, "Randy spoke a lot about you."

"He did?" Pablo asked eagerly.

"Sure did. He loves you a whole lot and he's worried about you, how you'll react to all this. He asked me to be your friend and to tell you he'll make it right with you as soon as he gets home."

Pablo squeezed his hand. "Thanks for telling me that, kiddo. What I said before, not being worried and all. That was bullshit. I always worry about Randy – his anger and stuff – and I'm scared about his punishment – it's gonna be rough."

"You don't have to watch," Brandon said. Pablo bristled. "'Course I do. I'm Randy's boy – we're in this together."

Brandon smiled. "And you being there will help him a lot, I bet." Actually, Brandon had no idea how right that turned out to be."

The only boy who hadn't been in the group that tense evening was Jamie. He had been taking care of Mark ever since the fight and the twins said that when they had taken food to them in their room they were still lying in each other's arms.

When Mark finally woke up the first thing Jamie did was apologize. He said it had all been his fault for not being there when Mark had got home so, horny as ever, he had fucked Pete instead. Mark reassured Jamie that he was in no way to blame, but said the boy could sure take care of him now. Mark was resilient and now that he had his strength back, although he ached a lot, the first thing he wanted was Jamie's ass to prove to himself and his boy that he was no worse for the beating he had suffered. After that the cop and his boy slept all night.

In the morning when the twins took them breakfast they were again making love and the twins discreetly put down the tray and quietly left them to it. The others were all having breakfast outside in a muted atmosphere of nervous anticipation when Bob and Randy arrived home from Steve's, seconds apart. Randy went straight to Pablo and said quietly, "Come with me, kid."

He took him up to the large room Pablo shared with Darius, knowing that Darius would not interrupt them. They stood looking at each other uncertainly, then Randy spread his arms wide and grinned, "What, you too ashamed of your old man to give him a hug?" Pablo fell into his arms, kissed him and pressed his cheek against his.

"Actually you should be ashamed of me, kiddo," Randy said softly into his ear. "I fucked up real bad this time, gave Mark a beating he didn't deserve just because he fucked Pete, a guy who's not even a member of the group." He pulled Pablo down beside him sitting on the bed. "Truth is, it had nothing to do with Pete. Deep down it was about Bob – always is. I guess I just saw Mark taking another guy away from me and I got paranoid about him and Bob ... for the umpteenth time. Shit, it's like the same movie playing over and over."

Pablo was surprised to hear Randy open up about himself, something he rarely did. The boy felt a little out of his depth and took refuge in his usual default request. "Sir ... would you fuck me please, sir? You can be as rough as you like."

"Of course I'll fuck you, kiddo – why do you think I brought you up here? But I won't be rough. I've done too much of that lately. I'll fuck you because I love you, kid." He grinned. "You know I've been in love with those gorgeous buns of yours ever since I saw them under your overalls all that time ago in that shit-hole garage in the desert. Why don't you give me a private viewing now, eh?"

Pablo gave his familiar crooked grin. "Okey-dokey." He stood up, turned his back to Randy and dropped his shorts. He was wearing a loose tank top that covered almost all his ass, with just a teasing glimpse at the bottom. He looked back over his shoulder with a raunchy grin, then began to pull his tank up ever so slowly like a stripper. He jerked it up, paused, grinned over his shoulder, then jerked a bit more, slowly revealing the perfectly rounded globes.

Randy moaned, "You little fucker, you know just how to drive me crazy. Take the fucking thing off, boy." Pablo obeyed his master, pulled off his tank and flung it aside. "Oh shit," Randy moaned, "every time I look at that ass it`s like I'm seeing it for the first time. Get on the damn bed, boy."

Naked, Pablo bounced onto the bed on his back, put his hands behind his knees, pulled his legs back and said cheekily, "There's my ass, sir. Take a good look `coz it's all yours."

"Cheeky little shit," Randy grinned. "And this is all yours..." He dropped his jeans and out sprang his monster cock. Every time he saw Randy's cock Pablo gasped, as he did now. He never quite believed he could take the thick rod all the way up his butt. Randy stepped out of his jeans and towered naked over his boy, stroking his dick. "You want this up your ass, boy?"

"More than anything in the world, sir," Pablo groaned. "OK, spread `em." Pablo pulled his cheeks apart and displayed his hole, framed with soft black hair. Randy knelt on the bed, spat into the hole and pushed his fingers inside, lubing him up. He spat on his cock and stroked the whole length of it. "No need for foreplay between us, eh boy?"

"None at all, sir. Just fuck my ass." Randy pressed his cock between the spread cheeks and against the hole, then shoved his pole over his boy's sphincter, down his chute, slamming it against the back of his ass. Pablo screamed and Randy pulled back instantly. "Sorry, kid, you want me to stop?"

"No sir, please. I love your dick in my ass. I'm your boy, sir, you can do anything."

"All I'm gonna do is make love to you, kiddo. Nice and slow." And so began one of the slowest, tenderest fucks Randy had ever given his boy, massaging his ass in place of the usual jackhammering. He watched with satisfaction as Pablo sighed and closed his eyes, then opened them and gazed up at him adoringly.

Pablo was overwhelmed by the sight of his master, the muscular gypsy, rising and falling over him as his massive cock slid in and out of his ass. This is what he lived for, being used, dominated, loved by the man he worshipped. He stared long and hard at the spectacular body, at the stubbled jaw and the long black hair falling over his brow. His body was on fire and he knew that if he stared straight into Randy's eyes he would be lost – but he did it anyway. Immediately he was seduced by the hypnotic blue eyes into Randy's private world that Pablo knew so well and always longed for.

"I love you, sir," he breathed. "I love being your boy. I love your cock in my ass. Please, sir, I can't hold back ... I think I'm gonna cum."

"Let me see it, boy. Let me see how much you love me." Pablo moaned, "aah ... aah ...oh fuck ... fuck ... aaagh!!" and his cock erupted with ribbons of cum that rained down on his face and chest. "That all you got, boy?" Randy growled. "Try this..." He pulled back and plunged his long pole savagely into his boy's ass, blasting hot cum deep inside him. Pablo screamed and his cock exploded again, this time shooting a stream of cum up so high it splashed into his master's face and onto his chest.

Randy pulled his cock out and fell forward onto his boy, holding him tight as if gathering strength for the ordeal to come. And in a room directly beneath them another master was holding his boy, not wanting to let go, as Mark was reluctant to perform the task he knew he had to.

It was noon and everyone was gathered in the garden – the whole tribe in an atmosphere of anxious anticipation. Darius stood in the background with his camera. Ever the family historian he would surreptitiously film the whole thing. 'Major event,' he thought - 'too damn hot to miss.' As Steve watched the preparations he tried to remain clinically detached though he still saw the whole thing as a Medieval ritual, like the whole village turning out for a public flogging.

As usual on these occasions Zack took charge as a senior member of the tribe, dominant, no-nonsense and well respected by all. And as a leather master he was no stranger to bondage and punishment. Bare-chested in leather pants and boots he addressed the group sitting at the poolside table and on the grass.

"Guys, let's get this thing going. I take no pleasure in this but it has to be. A visitor to our house has been gratuitously tied up and degraded, forced to watch one of our men get savagely beaten by another. The Ranger, Pete, spent yesterday with Darius and me recovering. He was not badly injured physically, only shocked and enraged at the treatment he got here, which brought shame on our house. I persuaded him to return someday soon and assured him that next time he would be treated with the warm hospitality that we usually extend to guests."

A murmur of approval rippled through the group. "I told Pete he was welcome to exact his own punishment on the perpetrator but he preferred to let Mark, the primary victim, act on his behalf. So I'm gonna turn it over to Mark to put an end to this whole shabby episode.

Mark and Randy came out from separate doors, both of them barefoot and shirtless in just blue jeans. Mark was carrying his police baton, which he laid on the ground. It was everyone's wish for the punishment to be carried out quickly and decisively and Mark echoed their desire. Staring impassively at the man who had savaged him Mark said, "OK, man, let's get this over with. A fair fight this time, unlike yesterday."

He raised his fists and Randy did the same, both men circling each other looking for an opening. Seeing two of their leaders preparing to fight, the spectators, especially the boys, were anxious but also turned on by the sight of two handsome, bare-chested muscle-hunks, locking eyes like gladiators psyching each other out. They were a stark contrast – one a swarthy stubble-faced gypsy, the other like a blond Nordic god.

Mark found an opening first and jabbed his fist onto Randy's jaw. His head flew back, but his reaction astonished the onlookers. Instead of his usual reflex of hitting back hard, Randy lowered his arms and stood motionless before his opponent. Taken aback Mark growled, "Come on man, fight me, let's see what you got. You think if you chicken out it'll save you? Think again, asshole."

Mark jabbed with his left, then his right but still Randy's only reaction was to stagger backward with the force of the blows. Mark persisted, though he knew what Randy was doing – making a display of taking his punishment like a man. Frustrated, the cop kept hitting him and the crowd watched in awe as the gypsy face jerked from side to side under the blows, his long black hair whipping across his face.

The spectators held their breath. Brandon was sitting next to Pablo and he reached over and held his hand, but Pablo pulled away, too proud, too tough to be comforted like this. Steve was watching with a frown, not only disapproving of the ritual, but also concentrating on the look in Randy's eyes as he gazed at his tormentor. There was something in those blue eyes that shouldn't have been there ... but Steve couldn't pin it down and simply dismissed it.

Randy still stumbled backward and Mark followed him, keeping up the rain of blows and shouting, "Remember what you said to me - that you could drop me anytime? Well same here, mother-fucker - like this!" He hauled back and slammed his fist into Randy's stomach, making him howl, double over and drop to his knees. Doing the same as Randy had done to him, Mark grabbed his black hair, pulled his face up and slammed the back of his hand against it. Randy flew backwards onto the ground and Mark was on him in a second.

He ripped open his jeans and yanked them down from the bottom, pulling them off and throwing them contemptuously aside. He dropped his own jeans and his cock sprang out like a pole as he towered naked over the fallen gypsy. "Damn you, man, you wouldn't let me thrash you in a fair fight which you know I can, and would have." He stroked his long, thick cock. "Maybe this'll get your attention – getting dry-fucked by a cop."

He fell to his knees, pushed Randy's legs in the air and pressed his dry cock against Randy's dry ass. "Doesn't have to be like this, man. All you have to do is let everyone hear you submit to me and it's over. Do it now, man." But Randy remained silent, staring stoically up at Mark, and once again Steve saw a fleeting look in his eyes that puzzled him.

"Have it your own way, stud," Mark growled and in one brutal move drove his rod deep into the gypsy's ass. "Aaagh!!" Randy's scream bounced round the garden as his body bucked in pain. He could always take a dick in his ass, but a dry-fuck by this cop's huge tool was something else. The pain got worse as Mark ramrodded his ass, driving his dick in and out like an accelerating piston.

Tears sprang from Randy's eyes and his agonized face thrashed from side to side. Mark pulled Randy's legs over his shoulders and leaned forward pinning his wrists to the ground above his head. Mark stared grimly into his eyes. "It won't stop until I see you bust your load, man. Here, I'll give you a break." He released one of his wrists. "I'll let you jerk off."

Instinctively Randy reached down and starting pumping his dick. As blood flowed into his cock the pain in his ass lessened slightly, though Mark's cock was still pile-driving it and Randy knew he had to cum fast to avoid submitting to this man. His pounded his cock desperately, closed his eyes, thought of Bob, Bob's ass, then opened his eyes and found himself staring into Mark's chiseled features and mesmerizing blue-grey eyes. He heard Mark's hypnotic voice ... "You can't resist, can you? Do it now, man."

Randy howled and blasted a stream of cum over his chest, then another as he felt Mark's cock erupt deep inside him. Their eyes locked as their cocks drained, then Mark pulled out, jumped to his feet and planted his foot on the gypsy's cum-soaked chest in a gesture of triumph, his cock dripping cum on his face.

"Now you have to surrender to me, man. Let me hear it, let the whole tribe hear it." But Randy's jaw was clenched tight. There was no sound in the garden as everyone waited for the submission – which never came. They realized that Randy was proving his strength, his ability to withstand anything Mark threw at him. He knew he had to be punished, welcomed it, but the macho stubbornness in him would not allow him to actually submit. Steve understood all that, but those jarring glimpses he had seen of Randy didn't fit the picture – didn't make sense.

"Fuck you, man, fuck you," Mark yelled. "All I wanted was to beat you in a fair fight and hear you give up. But you're too arrogant and bullheaded for that – the boss never submits, eh? I didn't expect it to come to his but you leave me no choice. Zack, give me a hand here will you?"

Minutes later the crowd stared in awe at the scene before them. There was a tree at the side of the lawn with a waist high horizontal branch. Randy was standing with his stomach against it, leaning forward from the waist, his arms stretched up, his wrists tied to upper branches.

Helplessly bound, bending forward against the branch, his cock swinging beneath it, the naked construction boss was at the cop's mercy, especially his ass that pushed backward, entirely vulnerable. Pablo, who had earlier rejected Brandon's gesture of support, now reached over and held his hand tight.

The group gasped as Mark picked up his police baton, the thick nightstick made of wood and coated in rubber. He circled Randy, holding his truncheon in his right hand, tapping it in his left. The spectators felt sure what was coming. The baton was used to strike and subdue, and that's what would happen to Randy. But they were wrong.

"I told you I didn't want this," Mark said, "but it's the only way to make you submit to me." He spat several gobs of saliva on the baton and spread it with his other hand. He stood behind Randy, spat on his exposed ass and massaged the hole with his wet hand. There was complete silence as he pressed the tip of the baton against the wet hole and pushed, watching it disappear, inch by inch, into the gypsy's already tortured ass.

Randy groaned in disbelief. "No ... no ... I can't ... Aaagh." Carefully Mark pushed until he felt the nightstick come to rest deep in the man's ass. Then he stood back at a distance, his arms folded across his chest. It was a homoerotic fantasy – the naked muscleman, the construction boss, was shuddering, bent forward, arms stretched up, wrists bound, with the police officer's baton protruding from his ass. The dark gypsy face dripped with sweat and tears as pain spiked from his ass all through his body.

Randy used every ounce of his massive strength and all his resources to combat the pain. He closed his eyes and thought of Bob, of making love to Bob, and it was Bob's cock filling his ass. Yeah, Bob was fucking him, Bob was torturing his ass and he loved it. "That's it, man," he groaned softly. "Fuck my ass, buddy. Fuck me hard." He was becoming delirious, his cock was hard as steel and his body writhed in its restraints.

"Give up, man," Mark's voice told him. "You have to submit now." Randy raised his head and saw Mark standing a foot in front of him. Mark ... Bob ... Hallucinating, Randy saw them together, saw Mark fucking Bob's ass just like he himself was getting fucked now, and saw the pleasure in Bob's eyes. He moaned, "Fuck him, officer, fuck him ..." In a delusional act of persuasion he leaned forward and licked the cop's muscled chest, licked the pecs, then the cleft between them, trickling with sweat. He licked the nipples, bit them and heard the cop moan.

Then Randy raised his head and gazed up into the blue-grey eyes. Mark was stroking his own cock, pointing it at Randy's face while the gypsy moaned, "Fuck him, officer. Fuck my man's ass ... make him cum ... make me cum ... let me feel it." Suddenly Mark's semen slammed into his face and poured down it. Randy howled, his body spasmed ... and his cock poured jism onto the ground at the cop's feet.

Randy's face sagged and the pain in his ass was even worse now he had cum. Mark grabbed his hair and pulled his head up. The gypsy's rugged, tortured face stared up at him – wild-eyed, running with sweat, tears and semen, his stubbled jaw sagging open. "Now you have to submit, man – just two words and it's over." Randy looked up into Mark's eyes and growled, "Make me." Amazed by the man's endurance Mark let his head fall forward and Randy sobbed quietly, the baton still buried deep in his shattered ass.

The guys were stunned and horrified. The man was broken but still refused to say the words. Steve frowned, sensing that there had to be something more behind this. Randy had defied all logic, gazing at Mark and in his delirium licking his body, fantasizing that Mark was fucking Bob, an image that had made him bust his load. But their fierce rivalry ran deep and still Randy defied the cop with the challenging, triumphant words, "Make me."

One of the spectators was more distressed than the others. Pablo looked at Brandon with tears running down his face and squeezed his hand hard. "I can't take any more of this, dude," he groaned. "I could make Randy submit – but I can't get involved between masters."

Brandon grabbed Pablo's chin and stared into his eyes. "Yes you can, dude. I did because I love Randy, and nobody punished me. You can too ... you're his boy, you love him. So fuck the rules and go for it, Pablo. You're always telling me how tough you are – prove it."

The challenge is what Pablo needed. "Thanks, kiddo," he said and stood up. With all eyes on him he walked across the lawn and faced Mark. "Sir," he said, "please don't hurt him anymore. Take me instead. I'm his boy. Let him go and fuck me instead. I'm giving my ass to you, sir. Hurt me, do whatever you want to me. Just stop hurting him, sir."

Ignoring Randy's muffled protests Mark smiled at Pablo. "I don't wanna hurt you boy, this is not your fight. But I will let your master go if you make love to me. Look at me, Pablo, and tell me you really want me." Mark held his arms wide and flexed his flawless muscles. Pablo looked into his eyes and said, "Yes, sir, I do. You're so beautiful Please fuck me, sir. I want to feel your cock in my ass." Randy sobbed his protest but was ignored.

Mark walked behind Randy and pulled the baton slowly out of his ass as Randy howled in pain. "Thank you, sir," said Pablo. Mark pulled the boy into his arms and kissed him tenderly. "I've already cum twice," he said. "Think you can make me hard again?"

"Absolutely, sir," As Randy watched in mute horror Pablo kissed Mark's face, his neck, his chest, then slid down his naked body, onto his knees and took his semi-erect cock in his mouth. It took him only a minute before it was hard. Mark pulled Pablo to his feet, turned him around and yanked down his shorts. "Holy shit, that ass is perfect," he moaned, running his hands over the solid white globes. "Man, I can't wait to feel my cock inside it. Here it comes, boy..."

"NO!!" Randy howled in despair. "No – not my boy. OK, OK, I give up. I submit to you, officer. Please don't fuck my boy... forgive me for what I did to you ... you've beaten me ... you've won." He shouted so everyone could hear. "I submit to you, sir. Please ... I submit."

And it was over. Mark kissed Pablo on the cheek and said, "Well done, kid. You are your master's boy alright." Mark turned to Randy, took his face in his hands, leaned toward it and their lips touched. Their mouths closed over each other in a long, shared, silent kiss.

And at that moment Steve knew. Of course, he thought – damn, I've been so stupid. Of course. Suddenly it all fell into place – those glancing looks that didn't fit, that meant something else ... the subtle hints Steve had noticed ... Randy's refusal to end his punishment by Mark. What did Randy admire in men most but their strength, their courage ... and their beauty? And the cop had all that and more. He was a beautiful, dominant alpha male who commanded universal respect, so gorgeous that only he could seduce Bob into loving him – Bob, who was so devoted to Randy.

And it was that that had obscured the picture for so long. The rivalry between Randy and Mark was legendary in the house. Randy saw all of Mark's qualities only in respect to Bob, resentful of Bob's attraction to him, scared of the possibility that Mark could steal him away. But Randy's fierce resentment had hidden a larger truth. Sure, when he saw them together Randy was jealous of Mark. But what Steve hadn't realized until now was that Randy was jealous of Bob too.

The key was that Randy and Bob shared the same affections and emotions – they thought and felt alike. Everyone knew that Bob was in love with Mark, but there was something nobody else ever guessed, least of all Randy and Bob.

Randy was in love with Mark too.

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 234

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 urge you to visit my Web-site www.atrialofstrength.com. You can read the whole story, all the many chapters, with extras, including pictures and biographies of all the characters and some other great artwork. Click on the `Our Story' tab to read the current chapter, or click on the green button to browse all the chapter synopses. Enjoy!