Date: Wed, 12 Nov 2014 02:37:44 -0500
From: rw6789@aol.com
Subject: "A Trial Of Strength" - Part 233  by Rob Williams

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!