Date: Sat, 19 Nov 2011 02:09:11 -0500 (EST)
From: rw6789@aol.com
Subject: A Trial Of Strength - Part 55  by Rob Williams

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 55
By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER Darius gets into big trouble with a biker gang.  "The black
stud's gonna work.  Always wanted a big buck slave, and now we got one."
Randy and Pablo confront the gang but their boss has a whip and Randy takes
the beating of his life.  "Not such a stud now, are you, asshole?" the thug
sneers.  "I'll cut that body to ribbons.  Let me hear you scream, big guy."

**************

As I always say, guys, I welcome your comments and suggestions.  They can
be very helpful.  E-mail me at rw6789@aol.com.

ALSO, NOW YOU CAN VISIT MY WEB-SITE: You can read the whole story, all the
many chapters, with extras, on my web-site www.atrialofstrength.com.
There's even a picture of me!  Also, go to the Contact Us page and send me
your comments and story ideas.  Enjoy!

*****************

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - Part 55

Darius was having a bad day.  In fact he had been having a bad week.  It
was some weeks now since his big fight with Pablo, which had resulted in
harsh punishment by Randy; all three of the boys spent a weekend scrubbing
the empty, sun-baked pool.  But things were not entirely patched over and
their relationship was still rocky.

Part of the problem was Darius's endless flights into fantasy.  Most of the
time this led to harmless imaginings centered on beautiful men.  But it had
its negative side too, like now.  Darius had got it into his head,
fantasized, that Pablo and Jamie were getting close ... too close ... and
no amount of Pablo's reassurance to the contrary helped.

Now, to make matters worse, work was a problem, and it centered on the new
hire, Lloyd.  Now that Randy had embraced him as the full-time architect
there was an intimacy between them that seemed to go deep.  Up to now
Darius had always spent much of his shift as foreman discussing projects
with Randy.  But now Randy's mind was on future planning and that was
Lloyd's expertise.  So the two men spent long hours in the trailer
hammering out the details of the two new projects they were taking on, to
the neglect of Darius.

Randy was so engrossed with Lloyd that he was inadvertently abrupt with
Darius, and the final straw came at the lunch break.  Darius routinely ate
lunch with Randy in the trailer, but now things had changed and Randy was
short with him.

"Hey, kid," he said.  "Lloyd and I are busy in here.  Have your lunch with
the crew outside."  And the trailer door closed in his face.

Darius gritted his teeth for the rest of the day until he left work for the
weekend.  He was in a foul mood when he got home and hit the roof when he
saw Pablo talking and laughing with Jamie.

"Fuck you, asshole," he shouted.  "I don't know why I bother to come home
at all.  Seems like you got everything you need right here.  You don't need
me.  These days nobody does."

Pablo lost his cool completely.  "Oh shut the fuck up, dude.  What?  I
can't talk to my buddy here?  If it bothers you so much why do you come
home?  I'm sick of your twisted fantasies.  Why don't you just get the hell
out and leave me alone?"

The sound of the crashing door echoed round the house as Darius stormed
out.  A small part of him knew he had over-reacted but he was not thinking
straight.  He was running on hurt and anger as he jumped into his truck and
slammed his hands on the steering wheel.

"Fuck him.  And fuck Randy.  Fuck the lot of them.  They don't need me.
Nobody does.  Well I don't need them either.  Shit, there are plenty of
guys would go ape-shit for me.  I can get whatever I want.  I'll show
them."  He sped off over the hill to Silver Lake and wound up at one of the
area's gay leather bars.

It was early evening, so the room was pretty empty.  Darius slumped over
the bar and ordered a beer.  "And keep them coming," he said to the
bartender.

Half an hour later he was drunk.  He became aware of a guy a few stools
over looking at him.  Shit, the guy was a leather fantasy, dressed in full
biker gear from his cap and dark glasses down to his heavy motor cycle
boots.  His voice was gruff.

"What's the matter, kid?  Your boyfriend dump you?"

"You might say that.  Everyone dumped me."

"Nah ... good looking stud like you?  Forget the fuckers.  Who needs `em?
Wanna come for a ride?"

Darius looked over at the leatherman and, through his drunken haze, the guy
looked kinda hot, though he couldn't see the face well behind the dark
glasses.  One of his fantasies was a biker in full leather and this guy
sort of fit the bill.  Without thinking Darius said, "Sure, why not?  Fuck
`em all.  I'll show them."

In a few minutes he was astride the guy's bike, his arms wrapped round the
black leather jacket, and they sped away.  "Where we going anyway?" he
shouted over the roar of the engine.

"Palmdale!" the guy yelled back.

**************

Pablo slept alone that Friday night, though he didn't sleep much.  This was
the first night they had been apart without Pablo knowing where Darius was.
It was unheard of for Darius to take off without telling his lover where he
was going.

Pablo spent Saturday in a mood of gloom and self-recrimination.  He should
never have said what he did to Darius, telling him to get the hell out.  He
turned to Randy for reassurance.

"He's gone," he said.  "And it's all my fault.  He was in a foul mood
... something had been bothering him at work all week ... and I didn't
support him.  It's my fault."

Randy winced when he heard this.  He knew immediately what had caused
Darius's `foul mood.'  Randy had been so involved with Lloyd, so close to
him, that Darius's nose had been put out of joint.  Shit!  Still, he tried
to reassure Pablo.

"Don't worry kid.  Just a lover's quarrel.  Every relationship has its ups
and downs.  He'll be back."

But he wasn't.  Saturday dragged into Sunday morning and still no Darius.
Even Randy started to worry and shared his concern with Mark.  The cop said
he would put the word out at his Division for his buddies to keep an eye
open for Darius's truck.

As it was one of their own who was personally involved the cops paid
special attention and the results were amazingly fast.  Darius's truck was
found parked in a red zone close to a gay leather bar in Silver Lake and it
had a parking ticket.  It had apparently been there since Friday.  Seems
Darius must have gone to the bar and left with someone.

"Jesus Christ," Pablo wailed.  "Where the fuck is he?"

***************

Darius was at that moment wondering the same thing.  His fantasy had become
a nightmare.

He had clung onto the biker as they raced north, apparently headed to
Palmdale.  He wasn't sure where that was, except it was north of the city,
pretty remote, and as the wind blew in his face for the hour-long ride he
started to become sober, then anxious, then panicked.

"Hey, man" he shouted.  "I'm not into this anymore.  Take me back to the
city."

The biker's only response was to laugh and speed up, and the only thing the
scared young black guy could do was hang on.  But he at least had the
presence of mind to pay attention to where they were going in the desolate,
empty landscape.  Finally, in the sparse, sandy wastes outside of Palmdale
they swung off toward Leona Valley and then bumped onto a dirt trail, under
an old arch that said `Skull Head Ranch.'  They bumped up the trail to an
old, sprawling house.  Standing in front was a massive, bearded biker in
full leather.

"Hey.  What you got for us there, buddy?"  The guy was obviously the boss
of the outfit.  "You nabbed a good one this time.  Yes sir, a fine black
slave.  Just what we need."

The two guys pulled the terrified boy off the bike, dragged him to a small
hut and threw him in.  The sound of a key turning in a padlock filled
Darius with panic and despair.

*************

The next morning, in this God-forsaken place miles from anywhere, Darius
stood in the blazing sun stripped to the waist in jeans and boots.  There
were four of them, all in full leather, sitting around grinning at him.
The boss got up and towered over him.

"Here's the deal, stud.  We need us a drainage ditch all the way to the
road, and me and the boys, well we ain't much for digging.  That's why my
boy here picked you up.  You look like a tough dude.  You'll do fine.  Oh,
and by the way.  Don't even think of trying to get away.  We're in the
middle of nowhere here and one of the boys'll be watching you.  If you
don't cooperate I'll rip that fine body of yours to pieces.  See this?"

The thug held a long bull whip that he cracked on the ground.  Darius knew
better than to say anything.  Just go along with this, he thought, at least
for now.  His cell phone and wallet had been taken from him so he had no
way to alert anyone.  In mounting despair he picked up the shovel and began
digging as instructed.

The four leathermen sat around and drank beer watching him work.  "Hell,"
one of the bikers said, "that sure is a sweet sight.  Look at that fine
black stud work, will ya?  Always wanted a big buck slave, and now we got
one."

As the hours dragged on the men were relentless ... and they weren't
kidding about the whip.  From time to time, when Darius slowed down, one of
the men picked up the whip and curled it across his rippling back muscles,
causing him to howl with pain.  Darius had to keep his mind occupied, had
to stay sane.  As time went by he tried to fantasize his way through the
fear and the pain.  And this was one hell of a fantasy.

He imagined a beautiful black stud captured by a gang of bikers, put to
work, stripped to the waist, as slave labor.  As the whip lashed his back
he saw in his mind the beautiful black muscles buck and flex as the pain
ripped through his body.  He saw sweat pour off the tortured body,
streaming down and soaking the crotch of his pants, the huge cock outlined
underneath.  At one point the beaten man fell to his knees exhausted and
only the repeated lashes forced him to stagger to his feet again and resume
digging.

The big stud endured the agony for hour after hour.  His muscles rippled
and flexed as he pounded the shovel into hard-scrabble earth.  His body
ached and spasmed and when he took a breather the lash wound mercilessly
around his back and chest.  His body heaved with rasping breaths and his
gleaming torso was striped with the marks of the brutal whip.

It was an extreme fantasy that, back home, would have kept him roused for a
long time until it made him shoot a hot load of cum.

But not this time.  For the first time, reality surpassed fantasy.  Every
hot image that came to his mind was now real ... agonizingly real.  The
magnificent black stud forced into slave labor, the gleaming muscles pushed
to their limits as the digging continued.  The exhaustion forcing the man
to his knees, humbled in the dirt.  The string of the lash as his
sweat-soaked body was whipped savagely until he pulled himself to his feet
and forced himself to work again.

It was all real.  It was a nightmare.

*************

Sunday came and Darius was near the end of his endurance.  He was moaning
now, tears of pain and misery streaming down his handsome face.  But at
midday came some relief.

"OK, boys," the boss said.  "Chow time.  Let's go inside and eat.  This
asshole's not going anywhere.  He's nearly done for, anyway.  Save your
energy, black boy.  You're gonna need it."  And with a guttural laugh he
and the other three went into the house.

Darius sank to his knees in despair and exhaustion.  The hopelessness of
his situation overwhelmed him and he began to sob.  But soon his survival
instinct took over.  He stood up and looked around him.  Not much to see
... trash everywhere, old chairs and tables where the bikers had been
sitting, overflowing ashtrays, empty bottles, and ... deliverance!  One of
the men had left his cell phone on the table.

Adrenaline surge through Darius's broken body and he lunged forward.  He
picked up the phone ... it was fully charged.  Shit, most of Darius's
numbers were on his own phone's speed dial ... but he did remember one by
heart.  But he had to be fast ... he heard the men's voices ... they were
coming back.  He dialed frantically ... it rang for precious seconds.
Then, thank God, a voice answered.  Darius's head was crystal clear as he
spoke a few words.

"Palmdale.  Leona Valley.  Skull Head Ranch.  I love you dude."

He threw the phone back on the table just before the men reappeared.  And
his torment continued.

*****************

"I'm coming too," Pablo said.  Since the moment his cell phone went dead he
had been in a frenzy of action.

"No," Randy said.  "I'm going alone.  I won't put you in danger."

Pablo grabbed the big man and dug his fingers into his arm.  His eyes were
blazing with determination.

"I'm going too.  With or without you."

Randy recognized the tough kid he had adopted.  "That's my boy," he
grinned, and they piled into the truck.

Surprisingly, it wasn't that hard to find, remote as it was.  They sped up
Highway 14 to Palmdale breaking every speed limit.  After an hour they
turned off toward Leona Valley and drove through the desolate scrub
landscape.

"Jesus, this is the back of beyond," Randy breathed.  "OK, keep your eyes
peeled, kid."

Randy drove more slowly now ... didn't want to miss it.  "There!" Pablo
yelled, pointing to the arch with the Skull Head Ranch sign.  Randy stopped
the truck.

"What a fucking shithole," he breathed.  "OK, kid here's the plan.  We
don't know how many of them there are or even if Darius is still here.  I
want you under the tarpaulins in the back.  While I distract them try to
get out and take a look around."

Pablo got out, scrambled onto the flatbed and hid under the tarps.  Randy
drove up the long dirt road but got only half way.  Blocking the truck was
one of the bikers, legs astride in the middle of the road.  Randy got out
and faced him.  Wearing his usual cargo pants and old tank top Randy was an
intimidating sight, his muscular torso bulging under the tank.

"Who's the boss around here?"

"Fuck off, man.  The boss don't talk to strangers."

"He'll talk to me, asshole."  The guy didn't even see the brutal fist that
slammed into his face and sent him sprawling in the dirt unconscious.
Randy dragged him to the side of the road and got back in the truck.  He
drove onward right up to the ramshackle building and jumped out.  Two more
bikers came out of the house.

"Who the fuck are you?" one of them growled.

"I've come for my boy."

"Well you can just turn your ass around and get the hell outa here.  We
ain't got no boy."

Randy turned sideways so that, as the thugs faced him, the truck was behind
them, and he glimpsed Pablo slipping over the side.

"Don't fuck with me, you shitheads," Randy growled.  You've got my boy.
I'll give you five seconds."

One of the thugs took a swing at Randy but he blocked the punch with his
left hand and slammed his right fist into his gut.  The leatherman doubled
over with a howl and fell to his knees.  The other guy sprang at Randy from
behind, threw his arms round him and locked them behind his neck in a
brutal full nelson.  The first man staggered back to his feet and began
slamming his fist into Randy's chest and stomach as he was held in an iron
grip from behind.

Randy thrashed his legs and arms in a wild effort to free himself but the
rain of blows continued.  Then he saw over the guy's shoulder the sweet
sight of Pablo running forward swinging a tire iron.  Randy brought his
knee upward and crashed it into the guy's balls.  As the biker doubled over
Pablo slammed the tire iron into his stomach, then again across his back.
He crashed to the ground senseless.

Randy took a deep breath and flexed his muscles, summoning all his
strength. Still being held in the grip of the full nelson he pushed his
back into his captor's stomach and leaned far forward.  He doubled over
and, with the yell of a warrior, heaved the biker up over his back, tossing
him forward over his head, and finally slamming him to the ground in front
of him with a mighty crash.  Pablo stomped on the fallen body but the guy
felt nothing.  He was already out cold.

"That was awesome, sir."  Pablo's eyes shone in admiration.  Then he was
serious again.  "Darius is here ... tied up out back."

"Go take care of him back there.  I'll clean up here"

Pablo disappeared round the back of the house and Randy was preparing to
tie up the two unconscious thugs when he heard a roar behind him.  He
turned to see the massive, hulking figure of the biker boss come racing out
of the house.  Before Randy could react, the mountain of a man slammed
bodily into him and the force sent him crashing to the ground.

The giant leatherman picked up the whip from the ground, cracked it once
then brought it curling round the Randy's chest and back.  Trying to avoid
the brutal lash the construction worker rolled over and over in the dirt.
But the whip cracked again and again against his body and soon his tank was
ripped into shreds and his bulging muscles were striped with lash marks as
the brutal whipping intensified.

The biker leered down at the helpless bodybuilder as he thrashed the
beautiful, muscular body writhing on the ground.  Randy's battered, near
naked torso twisted frantically, streaked with dirt and gleaming with
sweat.  He screamed in pain as lash after brutal lash ripped into his back
and chest.  He heard the taunting voice as the huge biker toyed with him.

"Not such a stud now, are you, asshole?" the thug sneered.  "Let me hear
you scream, big guy," and another savage blow caused the tortured muscle
stud to howl in agony.  Randy tried to get to his feet and was halfway up
when the whip wound round his legs and brought him crashing back to earth.
Again he staggered to his feet and started to run but whip curled round his
chest and jerked him backward, bringing him crashing down.  He knew he was
losing the fight as he crawled in the dirt and the massive brute continued
to taunt him.

"You won't get away from me, shithead.  I'm the boss here and I'm gonna
enjoy breaking your beautiful body.  Then I'll ruin that pretty face of
yours.  Think you're hot stuff, don't you?  You won't be so hot when I've
finished with you.  I'm gonna cut you to ribbons, stud.  When I've broken
you I'm gonna chain you up and put you to work along `a my new black
slave."

The muscular, tortured man was taking the beating of his life.  He rolled
over and over, crawled, stumbled, trying to escape the whip, but the biker
followed him, increasing the tempo of the beating as the merciless lashes
rained down on his naked chest, his back, his shoulders, streaking his
agonized body with vicious red stripes.  He was near to exhaustion when he
screamed in agony as an especially well-aimed lash landed brutally across
his balls.

The excruciating pain in his groin jolted his shattered body and gave him
one last shot of adrenaline.  As he looked up at the bearded, leering face
looming in triumph over him, the full force of his rage surged through him.
As the whip crashed down once more he held up his forearm and let the lash
curl round it.  His shoulder and biceps flexed and, with a massive heave,
he jerked the whip out of the guy's fist.

He grabbed the handle and, still lying on his back cracked the whip so it
curled round the thug's massive neck.  Still holding the whip Randy pulled
himself upright with one move, came up to the startled biker and smashed
his fist into his face.  Despite the beating he had taken, Randy's full
strength returned and his fists became weapons.  The thug staggered
backward under the savage rain of blows to his face ... right, left, again
and again.

Randy could have finished him off but he wanted to prolong the vicious
punishment of the ugly brute.  Like a wild animal he rained blow after blow
on the shattered giant until he fell to his knees.  Randy grabbed the neck
of his shirt and continued to pound his face, one side, then the other.
Throughout the vicious pounding Randy screamed at him with uncontrolled
rage.

"You fucking animal!  You dare to use my boy as a slave.  He belongs to me,
asshole.  You thrash me like a dog and think you won't pay?  This is me,
you're dealing with, shithead.  Not so tough without the whip, uh?  You
fucking coward?  I don't need no whip. You feel those fists?  They're gonna
fucking kill you."

As the biker begged for mercy, Randy decided to end it.  He heaved the man
to his feet and delivered one final massive blow to the jaw.  The huge
figure arched upward, seemed poised in mid-air, then crashed to the ground
senseless.

Randy gazed down at him, eyes wild, breath heaving, the shreds of his tank
top clinging to his dirt-caked, sweat-soaked chest, striped and bruised by
the lash of the whip.  At that moment Pablo came around from the back of
the house supporting the exhausted Darius.

Randy's frenzy subsided and he said, "Help me take care of these assholes."
They dragged the three men to the fence and tied them securely.

Suddenly they heard a yell and turned to see the first biker who had
guarded the road.  He had regained consciousness and came staggering toward
them.  Randy stood in his path, with Pablo behind him.

"He's all yours, kid," said Randy over his shoulder and quickly sidestepped
like a matador with a bull.  The biker ran forward, straight into Pablo's
fist in his gut.  As the man screamed and doubled over Pablo followed up
with a knee to the groin, then a double forearm smash to the back of his
neck.  The biker crashed to the ground.

Pablo looked up and grinned.  He wiped his hands against each other in
triumph as Randy applauded slowly.  Then Randy turned to Darius and opened
his arms.  Still in a daze the boy fell against him and as the strong, safe
arms folded round him the tension broke and Darius sobbed.

**************

"You'll never guess what else I found," Pablo said.  Things were quiet now.
The four dazed bikers were kneeling on the ground immobilized.  Their arms
were stretched backward over a low fence and roped securely behind them.
Darius was regaining his senses and listened to Pablo in amazement.

"I was looking for Darius's wallet and cell phone and I found them in the
garage out back.  And you'll never guess what else I found.  They got
closets and boxes full of it."  His eyes gleamed as he strung out the
suspense.

"Come on, kid," Randy growled impatiently.  "Full of what?"

"Drugs!  Bags and bags of weed, packets of coke, tons of meth ... hey, you
name it they got it.  These guys deal in bulk."

"Perfect," Randy said, flipping open his cell phone and hitting the speed
dial.

"You OK, buddy?" Mark asked.  "What the hell happened?"

"Oh, we met a little resistance but nothing we couldn't handle.  Now
listen, there's something I want you to do for me."  He briefly explained
the situation.

"Sure, no problem," said Mark.  "That's the County Sheriff's jurisdiction
up there.  I know a few of the guys there.  I'll get onto them and call you
right back."  The phone went dead but a few minutes later it rang again.

"OK, half an hour tops.  The Sheriff was planning a raid on that place but
didn't want to get into a SWAT standoff situation.  Guess you did their
work for them.  If you take my advice you'll stay guard there `till you
hear the sirens then get the hell out.  Unless, of course, you wanna press
charges."

"Nah," Randy grinned and rubbed his fists.  "I already pressed my own
charges.  The bastards won't forget that in a hurry.  We'll do what you
say.  Thanks a million, buddy.  And be sure to tell the Sheriff to check in
the garage out back.  See you later."

He turned to the biker boss tied to the fence.  "Now, you fucking moron.  I
think you have something to say to my boy here.  He went behind him,
grabbed his hair and pulled his face upward.  "Darius, come here."  Darius
stood in front of the man who had brutalized him.

"Now, shithead.  You're gonna make real nice to this young man.  Say you're
sorry ... and make it good."  The thug started to protest but another
brutal yank of the hair made him think twice.  He had already taken a
savage beating from Randy and was terrified of him.  He groaned, cleared
his throat and spoke hoarsely.

"I'm sorry for what we did.  Me and the boys apologize."

Randy bellowed.  "Not good enough, asshole.  You did not address my boy
correctly.  Now try again."

The biker grimaced in pain as he spoke loudly.  "I'm sorry ... sir.  I
apologize for what we did.  Please forgive us, sir."

Randy grinned.  "Ok, kid.  Might as well show him what you think of his
apology.  I think you know what we do to scum like this."

Darius grinned back at Randy.  His hands went down to his pants, he
unbuttoned his fly and pulled out his huge cock.  He pointed it at the
biker's face.

"No!" the big man howled as he looked at the long black hose.  "No ... "
but his cries were drowned by a stream of hot, rancid piss hitting him in
his tortured face, pouring into his open mouth, his eyes, hair, and flowing
down to his black beard.  It was a long time since the boy last pissed and
the floodgates opened in a stream that never seemed to stop.

"That's my boy," laughed Randy.  "Hey Pablo, we don't wanna neglect the
other three, do we?"

"Don't seem fair," Pablo agreed.  "They look like they need a shower."

Soon all three guys were standing in front to the agonized faces pouring
urine all over them.  The thugs choked and begged but the deluge kept
coming.

"Now that's what I like to see," Randy said as he stood back and looked at
the four bikers, kneeling helpless in the dirt, their faces soaked, pouring
with hot, yellow piss.

*************

Now they waited.  Darius was exhausted and fading fast so Randy made him
get into the cab of the truck and sleep.  Outside Pablo looked at his
master whose shirtless body was still striped with red whip marks.  He
stroked the big muscles gently.

"You OK, sir?  That whip must've been ... "

"Yeah, yeah, kid.  My body's taken worse than that.  Shit, my balls hurt
like crazy, though.  The bastard got in a good last crack at them with the
whip.  Just hope there's no permanent damage down there."

Pablo grinned.  "One way to find out, sir.  We got a few minutes `til the
Sheriff gets here."  He quickly pulled down the tail gate of the truck and
eased himself up backward so he was sitting on it, facing Randy.  He
unbuttoned his pants, pulled them down round his ankles, and fell back on
the flatbed.  Randy looked down at him and shook his head.

"You young son-of-a-bitch.  You really are my boy, aren't you?"

"Why don't you prove it, sir?"

The sight of Pablo's perfect ass always roused Randy and he was relieved to
feel his dick get hard, despite the pain in his balls.  He pushed Pablo's
legs up and back, came close up to his ass and pushed his now-rigid dick
into his hole.

"Oh, yes sir," Pablo breathed.  "Oh, sir that feels incredible.  No
permanent damage there, I'd say."

"You little fucker," Randy laughed.  "I'll show you damage."  And the hard
pounding began.

The macho heat of battle now found sexual release.  Randy rediscovered all
his old energy and strength as he looked into his boy's laughing eyes and
hammered his ass.  All the pain, tension and adrenaline of the last hours,
the fight, the beating he had suffered, the revenge he had taken, all of it
was now concentrated in the burning ass of the boy he loved.  Pablo was
hypnotized by the wild man towering above him, his bruised muscles flexed
and bulging as his glorious body dominated the boy completely.

Pablo screamed, "I love you, sir!"

"OK, kid.  Shoot your load now.  Let me see it.  Do it for me ... now!

Pablo's cock shuddered and a long stream of warm cum spurted over his young
body, stomach, chest and up to his face.  At the same time he heard Randy's
roar and felt his master's semen pouring deep inside his ass.

They gazed into each other's eyes and no words were needed.  After a while
their breathing gradually subsided and Pablo smiled at his master.  "We did
good today, sir, don't you think?"

"We did great ... and you were terrific, kid.  We're a team.  I'm proud to
call you my son."

In the far distance they heard the sound of sirens.  Randy quickly pulled
his dick out and they both buttoned their pants.

"Time to get the hell out," Randy said.  "Here, I'll take this," and he
picked up the whip from the ground.  He looped it loosely round Pablo's
neck and grinned.  "Just so you'll remember who's boss, kiddo."

They got into the truck beside the sleeping Darius.  Pablo leaned out of
the window and yelled to the bound bikers on the fence, "So long suckers!"
Randy laughed and sped off down the dirt trail and off toward the highway,
just seconds before the Sheriff arrived.

As he sat between his master Randy and his rescued lover Darius, Pablo was
happier than he had ever been.  His face glowed ... and he wore the whip
proudly round his neck all the way home.  He was proud to be owned.

**************

Just before they reached the house Darius woke and everything that had
happened flooded back to him.  He looked up at Randy.

"Sir ... I know I fucked up big time.  I'm ashamed and I'm really, really
sorry that ..."

"Can it, kid," Randy interrupted.  "There's enough blame to go round ... me
included.  We'll talk about that tomorrow.  In the meantime the guy you
should apologize to is the kid here.  When we get home you two go and make
your peace."

And that took no time at all.  When they walked through the gate the boys
ran off together to their house.  They didn't speak much ... didn't need
to.  In the shower Pablo took care of Darius's battered body ... and then
took care of all his other needs.  That night they held each other tighter
than ever.

Bob had been waiting anxiously for Randy's return and came out to greet
him.  He stopped suddenly, stunned by the sight of Randy's bruised and
striped body, covered in dirt, the ragged remains of his tank clinging to
his chest.

"Shit, man, looks like you got banged up real good."

"Yeah," Randy grinned, "but you should see the other guy."

Randy showered and, as they relaxed over beers, they talked about what had
happened and what it meant for the future.

"What Darius has to learn," Randy said, "is now that we have two new
projects I'll be spending a whole lot of time with Lloyd.  At this stage
it's all about reconciling his architectural ideas with the construction
logistics.  That'll take hours of hard work between him and me.  That's
just the way it is and Darius'll have to get used to it."

"Guess I will too," Bob murmured with an uneasy frown.  But it was lost on
Randy who was still speaking of Darius.

"Still, I have plans for the punk that I know he'll go for."

And Darius did, big time, when Randy spoke to him the next day in the
trailer.

"I know I neglected you, kid, working so closely with Lloyd.  But that's
gonna continue.  Still, I have something in mind for you.  See, we'll be
opening up two new sites and Jack and I will take charge of them.  So that
leaves you here.  I'm gonna make you the site manager here, and this
trailer will become your office.  I'll help you pick the right guy for your
foreman but the final choice will be yours.  Think you can handle it?"

Darius was glowing.  "Sir, that's awesome.  But I don't deserve it, sir."

Randy's eyes flashed.  "Asshole!  If I thought you didn't deserve it you
wouldn't get it.  It'll be a hell of a lot of work, but you're tough and
you know the project here inside and out.  Any problems, you come straight
to me.  But this is serious, kid.  I want you to lose all that fantasy shit
while you're on the job, is that clear?"

"Perfectly, sir.  Believe me, I'm cured of all that black slave thing."

Randy turned his head to hide the grin on his face.

************

As Randy had predicted, his work for the immediate future would be mostly
with Lloyd, who had set up an elaborate home office in his small house in
West Hollywood ... drafting tables, computers, sophisticated architectural
software ... the works.  Randy was impressed.

"Shit, man, you've been busy.  This looks great."  Then he grimaced.  "The
fun part will be showing me how it all works."

And that took many hours.  As they worked closely together they developed a
mutual trust and admiration.  They were both masters of their own field and
respected that in each other.  But they were both strong willed, so there
were inevitably many points of contention and good-natured arguments.

Underneath it all there was still a dual tension.  There was the sexual
tension, of course, with the two men working intimately side by side.  In
fact Lloyd spent much of the day with a permanent hard-on, which he tried
to conceal.  Also there was the natural tension of two proud men, both
arrogant in their ways, both sure that their way was the right way.

The pressure was to come to a head very soon during their meeting with one
of the new prospective clients.  The hidden cracks in their working
relationship would open up and Lloyd would unwisely contradict Randy.  The
big man was not one to be contradicted ... especially in front of a client.

But that was for tomorrow.  For now the atmosphere was congenial ... in
more ways than one.  Working in Lloyd's house they were deeply immersed in
their preparation for the meeting the next day, and there were still some
unresolved conflicts when Randy stood up to stretch and caught sight of the
clock.

"Shit, will you look at that.  One a.m.!  Hell, our meeting's at eight in
the morning.  Time I get home I'll get only a few hours' sleep."

"Why not spend the night here?" Lloyd said lightly.  "In the morning we can
grab a bite of breakfast and head out together.

"Makes sense," Randy said.  "Too late now to call Bob.  OK, man.  Let's hit
the sack."

As they walked into the bedroom Randy was already stripping off his
T-shirt.  Lloyd's cock leapt in his pants as he saw once again the
construction worker's stunning physique.  There was no hiding it this time.
He took off his shirt, unbuttoned his pants and let them drop.  He blushed
as he dropped his shorts too and his rigid cock sprang up.

Randy stared at him.  He unzipped his pants and, as they fell, his own
thick cock leapt out ... raging hard.

Naked now Randy walked toward the trembling architect.

"This has been a long time coming, Lloyd."

 *******************

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength -- Part 56"