A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 370 By Rob Williams

CHAPTER 370 – "THE SENIOR BOYS TAKE CHARGE"

IN THIS CHAPTER:

Randy's wild infatuation with the Hispanic muscle-god Miguel sends the tribe into turmoil, so the senior boys take charge. First, the tough young mechanic Pablo punishes Randy into a state of total degradation, the swarthy, muscular gypsy on his knees, broken and humiliated by his own boy. Then the gentle twins, in their subtle way, insult the bound man, treating him like an animal – revenge for their master Bob.

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

The leadership of the tribe had been thrown into disarray. The construction company's co-boss Zack had introduced to the tribe his new man, the macho Hispanic alpha male Miguel. But the other boss of the tribe, the wild, sexually exciting gypsy Randy, had seen Miguel as a rival and they had fought.

But in the serenity of the lake up in the mountains Randy and Miguel had resolved their differences and had bonded in the respect and admiration of two like-minded, equally dominant top men. But it was more than mere male bonding. They had also discovered their equally seductive sexuality and had indulged it in ferociously passionate sex in the secluded atmosphere of the lake. Bromance overflowed into intense man-on-man romance.

The problem with this was that Randy had a lover of many years, Bob, and Miguel was Zack's new sexual partner. And when Randy and Miguel decided to spend the night at the lake instead of returning triumphantly to their lovers, a shudder went through the tribe of the potential conflict this represented, threatening the very stability of the tribe.

The much-loved Bob, the handsome business executive with the face and body of a Superman, had been particularly shaken by the tone of his phone conversation with Randy who gushed, "Guys, you are gonna love this man. We buried our differences real fast – you can probably guess how." His intense feelings for Miguel were clear and his casual remark that they would be spending the night together sent shivers of apprehension through Bob.

As so often before, Bob had sought solace in the arms of the blond motorcycle cop Mark who had the face and body of a Greek God. The two had been in love for a long time though each acknowledged that Mark could never replace Randy as Bob's number-one man – not so far.

Still, Mark's comforting embrace of Bob now had inevitably become sexual – a wildly homoerotic re-living of the time they first met, when the cop had pulled Bob over for a traffic violation. This led to a sexual fantasy where the cop had made the business executive strip naked, had handcuffed him to a tree and fucked his gorgeous ass.

While that was happening Zack had received a phone call from Miguel at the lake and, like Bob, Zack had realized the growing sexual attraction of Miguel and Randy, rousing his anger at Randy and disappointment in Miguel.

At an afternoon snack by the pool the men gathered with their boys in a slightly surreal atmosphere where the elephant sitting in the middle of the group went undiscussed, and the conversation was light and cordial. What was there to say? They all knew the score, they knew Randy, and they knew that nothing would be resolved until the men came home from the lake tomorrow and made their appearance at the tribe's ritual Sunday brunch.

The senior boys at the table – Randy's boy Pablo; Bob's twins Kyle and Kevin; Mark's boy Jamie; and Zack's Darius – were all acutely aware of the threatening situation between their masters and its potential for conflict. They too knew the almost hypnotic power of Randy's sexuality and his need to assert it, especially over a new, alpha muscle-god like the handsome Hispanic. Nobody had any doubt that Miguel had fallen under Randy's spell.

So after the meal the boys went back to the kitchen where they sat round the kitchen table and thrashed out the problem. Impulsively Pablo said, "What the fuck was that bullshit out there, guys? Here we are facing a crisis in the leaders of the tribe and we're talking about the food and the fucking weather. If the guys are gonna pussyfoot around the subject and wimp out on the whole thing it's time we here took charge. I mean, what are we – men or boys?"

"I agree," Jamie said rather more calmly. "We could all see how hurt Bob was, even though he covered it up well. I mean, when a lover turns his back on you ..."

"Hey," Pablo flared up in his dad's defense, "this mess is not Randy's. Hell, he was the one who got beaten and fucked by the other guy ..."

"Only because Miguel had been insulted by Randy," Darius bristled in Miguel's defense.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," Kevin said. "Is this what we mean my taking charge? Fighting among ourselves, taking sides?"

"Kevin's right," Kyle said. "We got a real complicated situation here. As we speak, Randy and Miguel could be getting a real thing going between them – sure sounds like it. That's gonna rile Zack big time and I sure don't wanna see Zack and Randy tearing each other apart. And what about Bob, rejected by Randy for another guy and getting closer and closer to Mark? We know they've been in love with each other for years. How's Randy gonna react to that? Another feud between the cop and the construction boss?"

"Guys, you're right," said Jamie, the voice of reason. "Something like this could tear the tribe apart, so I suggest we senior boys make a pact now. When the guys get back tomorrow, if things start to go downhill, us guys step in – big time. `Cos all the men have so much emotion involved in all this bullshit that I don't think they'll be able to sort it out themselves. Agreed?"

They agreed and Jamie asked, "Pablo, you think you can handle Randy?"

Pablo grinned his raffish, arrogant grin. "Leave the big guy to me. Me and him are more like buddies these days than master and boy. He'll end up doing what I tell him."

"And you can leave Zack and Miguel to me," Darius said. "We three bonded real close, and I understand them. Might be some rough-stuff involved – you know those two are real into leather and all that shit – but I guarantee Miguel can be brought into line, no matter how tough and macho he is."

Jamie looked at the twins. "Guys, what about this stuff between Bob and Mark? This is a bit more subtle – gonna call for a lot of finesse."

The twins grinned at each other and Kyle said, "Men, we may look like the meek, hardworking chefs of the outfit but don't let the perky chef's hats fool you. When push comes to shove Bob usually ends up doing what we tell him to." Kevin smiled, "Bro, don't you mean `suggest' that he does?" "Yeah, that too," Kyle chuckled.

"So it's deal," Jamie said as they all clasped hands in the middle of the table. "We gotta hold it together. One for all and all for one."

"Damn straight," Pablo growled.

************************ CHAPTER 370 **************************

And so life at the tribe's compound somehow assumed an uneasy calm as the senior men and boys managed to sidestep the big questions of the Randy/Miguel situation for now, putting off any action until the two men returned for tomorrow's Sunday brunch.

As planned, Zack took his boy Darius out for dinner; Bob and Mark stayed mostly in the master suite with a private dinner served by the twins; and the twins, Pablo and Jamie spent the evening and night together.

Strengthened by their pact for concerted action if necessary, the young men felt an even greater affinity than usual, which led to long conversations over dinner, laughter as the mood lightened and, inevitably, group love-making and sex in the twins' big apartment over the kitchen.

And what of the two men at the center of the gathering storm? Up at the lake Miguel had served up a great trout dinner to his new alpha buddy, but the gourmet food was the only domestic touch. All else was two rugged top-men getting the measure of each other, where everything took the form of a friendly rivalry – a series of muscle-flexing challenges.

The executive chef shed his apron and the two men sat naked in the late-afternoon sun swapping stories of their rough, tough early years – Miguel proving his manhood on the drug-gang streets of Honduras, and Randy fighting his way to the top as King of the Gypsies in hard-scrabble rural Texas. It was heady stuff and got their macho juices churning as they one-upped each other with ever more savage stories.

Inevitably this verbal contest became physical. After they had digested their food their bodies craved action and Randy leapt to his feet. "See that buoy in the middle of the lake? First one round it and back to shore gets the choice of the weapons." The two naked muscle-gods raced down to the water, launched themselves in and swam long, powerful strokes out to the buoy.

Equally matched they swam neck and neck and collided as they rounded the buoy. They grabbed each other and tussled in what became an all-out wrestling match in and under the water – a churning mass of muscle with first one man holding the other under, then losing the advantage as the other man surfaced, gasping, and overpowered his struggling opponent.

The fierce gypsy had the handsome Hispanic in a bone-crushing bear hug but Miguel managed to bring his knee up between them and with a mighty shove heaved Randy back off him. Randy flew backward and splashed under the surface while Miguel seized the advantage and struck out for the shore.

When Randy surfaced, choking, the sight of Miguel several lengths ahead of him fueled his innate competitive instincts and he launched himself forward. Raw willpower boosted his already-formidable strength and soon Randy was stroking alongside Miguel and passing him. Each man gave it every last shred of muscle power but it was Randy who touched bottom first, ran up the beach and flung himself face down on the sand, followed seconds later by his rival.

No one spoke for several minutes as they gasped for breath, their handsome faces streaming with water and grimacing in pain, their magnificent bodies heaving with massive intakes of breath. Lying stretched out on the their stomachs face to face, their sparkling eyes met in an exhilarated acknowledgment of the other man's strength, and eventually Miguel conceded, "Round one to you, big guy. So what are the weapons for round two?"

"Forearms," Randy grinned, planting his elbow in the sand, forearm raised. Facing him on his stomach Miguel matched his challenging grin, dug his opposite elbow in the sand, pressed his forearm against Randy's and their hands clasped tight. "Best of three," Randy said, "and this is for the match. Loser of this one loses his ass too."

They flexed, stared deep in each other's eyes, and the arm-wrestling match was on. Predictably with two such equally strong men the advantage changed frequently, first one man's arm forced back an inch, then the other's. But Miguel was still weakened by the race and water wrestling and Randy recovered more quickly, and suddenly, with a triumphant shout, he slammed Miguel's arm back on the sand.

"Fuck," Miguel growled angrily. "Shit damn."

"Your ass is grass, stud," Randy grinned jubilantly as they got into position for the next round.

Again, shoulders flexed, biceps bulged, sweat ran down the intense faces and eyes flashed as the match hovered in the balance. Randy's arm was like steel and Miguel felt his strength weakening. But the thought that if he lost this he would have to surrender to Randy insulted his manhood and gave him the strength for one last mighty thrust as he forced Randy's arm down.

"Dammit, you son-of-a-bitch," Randy growled. "Man, you are gonna get your ass creamed. Let's go ... for the match."

The intensity was even greater this time, the contest more serious. Randy was used being in control. He could even throw a match if he wanted to get fucked, which he had done with Bob and Zack. But this was different. This time he and Miguel were out to prove their supremacy and there was no way in hell this son-of-a-bitch macho muscle-stud was going to best him.

Their physical strength might be equal but Randy knew he could always break a man's concentration just by looking at him – he could hypnotize him into submission – just as he began to do now. His electric blue eyes locked onto Miguel's as they flexed again and pushed against each other in the final round to determine who creamed the other's ass.

Instantly Miguel felt the intense power of those eyes set in the swarthy gypsy face, and his concentration wavered. Randy growled, "You can't beat it, man. You're gonna submit, you know it, you can see it in my eyes. You want it too, you want my dick in your ass. Give up, man."

As Miguel fell under the hypnotic spell he knew he was losing it ... but then he glimpsed something else in those eyes ... arrogance, a certainty of victory. He heard it too. "That's why I'm the king, why I'm the boss of the tribe," Randy grunted. "Every guy submits to me in the end ... even you, stud ... even you. Like I said, your ass is mine."

Miguel felt the power of anger course through his body, anger at the supreme arrogance of this fiery gypsy who was about to come out on top, as always. And that's what the final moments of the match became, anger versus arrogance, alpha male against alpha male, top-man against top-man, where only one could win.

And then in an instant it was over. With a mighty roar, one man slammed the other's forearm down hard on the sand. In this duel of equally matched titans, one man had won. One man owned the ass of the other.

Randy sprang to his feet and pumped his fists in the air. But not in triumph – in frustration. His over-confidence had beaten him and in the last second he had witnessed the true strength and dominance of the man he had come to admire.

In seconds Miguel was beside him. "Man, I fucking love you. What a fighter. I can see why your guys call you the King of the Gypsies – and why they are all your guys. It was a privilege to go up against you. Let's wash off all this damn sand, buddy."

They walked down to the water with a mix of emotions – mutual respect for sure, lust definitely, but also an appreciation of how it feels to be in the company of a proud, confident top-man – and an equal. They dove under the water, washed their bodies free of sand, walked back up to the water's edge and faced each other, the sun's rays reflecting off the water and playing over their chiseled features.

"So," Randy grinned. "You own my ass and you're gonna pound it."

Miguel ran his hand over Randy's gleaming wet chest and smiled. "Not exactly, buddy. Oh, I am gonna take temporary possession of the boss's ass, but not to pound it. I already did that yesterday in a rage when we first met. No, this time I'm gonna make love to it ... I'm gonna make love to you, dude. You know I'm starting to think that when I came up here to find you it was not only to make things right between us. I think another part was that I was so damned in lust with you. You are fucking spectacular, man, and I ... I wanted you.

"Sure we got off on the wrong foot yesterday and I fucked you in anger – a revenge fuck. And when I came up here you reamed my ass, part as payback, part as my initiation by the leader of the tribe. And since then we've been sparring, competing, wrestling, testing each other and, for my money, we fought each other to a draw. But rules are rules, and it turns out that it's your ass that's grass, big guy, not mine.

Randy gazed at the swarthy Hispanic muscle-god with water running down his rugged face and the sinews of his spectacularly sculpted physique. Randy shook his head slowly. "Man, you are so fucking gorgeous! I feel real stoked being with a guy like you – a guy so much like me – talking to him, sparring with him, competing – even losing to him knowing I'm gonna take that huge dick up my ass. Come on, stud ... let's fuck."

They walked up the beach where Randy spread a blanket over the ground under the trees and lay on his back on it, staring up at the beautiful Latino towering over him, his legs apart, slowly stroking his cock. He smiled down at the muscular gypsy. "Now I'm sure of it, Randy. This is why I came up here ... to make love to you."

He knelt between Randy's legs, leaned forward and they ran their hands over each other's gleaming body, feeling every sinew, every vein, every muscle that rippled under the touch. "Fucking gorgeous," Randy said for the umpteenth time as if he could hardly believe it."

Miguel smiled, "Yeah, feel it, stud. Feel those fucking pecs, those abs. That's the body that's gonna rise and fall over you, with its pole driving in your ass.

He bent down and brushed their lips together, then kissed Randy with increasing strength until their mouths were churning against each other in a passionate, tongue-probing embrace. It was a unique mix of tenderness and roughness of macho men, where gentleness could turn to caveman savagery in an instant.

Finally Miguel pulled back and their eyes pierced each other's. ""Fuck me, man," Randy growled. "I need it so fucking bad. I need that body inside me."

Miguel spat on his hand intending to lube his cock with saliva but Randy said, "No, I want it raw. I wanna feel your rod fuck me raw."

"You got it you crazy mother-fucker." He raised one of Randy's legs high, pressed the head of his cock in the sweaty black hair round his hole and grinned down at him. "Look at me stud ... watch my body flex as my pole slides into you ... like this."

"Oh fuck, yeah ... oh fuck ... yeaaah!" The stubbled gypsy face thrashed from side to side, the long black hair flying across it as the Latino muscle-god's massive cock pushed inside him. "Man that feels so fucking good ... look at you, man, so fucking beautiful. That body ..." Randy reached up and dug his fingers in the slabs of Miguel's rock hard pecs and he howled, "Fuuuck! I love you, man. I love you ... aaagh!"

Randy's magnificent body tensed and his cock blasted a stream of cum straight up, slamming against the heaving chest of the man fucking his ass, then another up to Miguel's neck and face. The sight of the muscle-jock with cum streaming down his face and chest sent Randy wild and his cock kept pumping jizz, this time over his own abs and chest.

Miguel looked down at him in awe. "Man, I've never seen an orgasm like that. Un-fucking-believable. That's how I want my man – drained – spent, so I can make love to him and drive him wild without letting him bust another load. How about this for a start, buddy?"

Miguel pushed in even deeper until the head of his cock pressed against the inner sphincter. He paused, flashed a gleaming smile ... and pushed his cock over the inner sphincter. "Aaahh!" Randy's body shook and eyes opened wide as he gazed up at the rugged face with its stubbled jaw and piercing eyes that saw into dark gypsy's soul.

Randy was almost hallucinating. "Oh shit, that's ... oh, god, its fucking pornographic. You're not real – like some homoerotic drawing. And that muscle-jock's rod is in my ass – way deep in my ass. Oh shit, I'm gonna cum again ... I ..."

"No you're not big guy. Not until I've made love to you for a long, long time." Miguel pushed up Randy's other leg, hooked them both back over his shoulders and leaned forward. He pinned Randy's wrists to the ground above his head and probed his ass with the entire length of his cock as they gazed into each other's eyes. "Fuck," Miguel moaned, "that's incredible, man. You have the most amazing eyes. I can see myself in them, see myself reflected in you. Hell, I could make love to you just by staring at you."

He leaned forward and kissed him – tenderly at first but soon ravenously, then pulled back and their eyes met again – and still Miguel's cock caressed the warm membrane of Randy's ass with his iron cock.

As the intensity of their lovemaking deepened, so did the skies over the lake – from the startling turquoise and gold of sunset, to the gathering twilight, the deepening shadows, the emerging stars and finally the moon, it's silver rays lighting the waters of the lake and the two men beside it lost in each other's eyes.

And still the men made love, still the rugged Latino fucked the gypsy's ass, losing all track of time and place. But at last Miguel groaned, "I've been putting this off, buddy, but I can't anymore. I've gotta pour my juice in your ass, man. You ready for that?"

"Stud, I've been ready for that ever since you showed up here and I barked at you to go the hell away. Man, am I glad you didn't. Yeah, so let's do it you gorgeous son-of-a-bitch."

"OK, but only on one condition – that we do this all night – make love, fuck each other, swim in the moonlight, then come back and fuck some more. Deal?"

"You know it, buddy."

"See, Randy, I think I'm in love with you."

"Say that again, big guy."

"I love you, Randy. I love you ..." his breathing quickened. "And I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum in that hot ass and watch you spray jizz all over that gorgeous fucking body. Here it comes, man. You ready?"

When at last their semen burst from their balls and raced up their cocks they spilled their loads quietly, gently, lovingly ... two rugged alpha males, competitive rivals who had battled, struggled, wrestled and fucked and who finally had made love gazing into the mirror of each other's eyes. And now they lay in each other's arms – spent but ready for more.

And so, as it happened, were Bob and Mark, their bodies lovingly entwined fifty miles away in the city. And so, as it happened, were Zack and Darius, across the street in the bed they shared as master and boy.

A tangled web indeed.

The weekly Sunday brunch was something of a ritual for the tribe, one that Bob encouraged to bring all the men and their boys together from their various houses and disparate lives.

Usually the atmosphere was relaxed – old friends sharing stories of their week – but this Sunday the mood was more highly-charged, with a mix of excited anticipation but foreboding too that this new drama was serious. It could play out badly and shake the tribe's very foundations.

The men and boys gathered over coffee, appetizers and Bloody-Marys prepared by the twins and served by the boys shuttling between the kitchen and the long table set by the pool. While preparations were cranking up at the house, Miguel's SUV was following Randy's big truck down the winding Angeles Crest Highway.

True to their lusts and desires for each other they had spent much of the night fucking and making love before falling asleep in each other's arms. And when they woke their passion was unabated. It was, if anything, even greater and did not diminish even as the two vehicles drove in tandem. Miguel was totally bewitched by Randy and as he looked at the tail lights of the truck the whole thing seemed erotic, the whole package, even Randy's truck and the boat in the back.

As the approached the house Miguel had no fears of meeting the rest of the tribe. He felt loved and protected by Randy who, after all, was the boss of them all.

At the sound of vehicles pulling up outside the gate a tremor ran through the men and boys, conversation subsided and all eyes turned to the gate. And the first sight of the two men confirmed their worst fears. They strode in side by side, with Randy's arm slung round Miguel's shoulder. Both were shirtless in jeans.

But more than physical appearance it was the glow round them that said it all. All the members of the tribe were highly sexual men and instantly recognized the heat generated by the two macho top-men as being deeply sensual. Their bodies gleamed under the midday sun and it looked as if they had just had sex and were lusting for more.

Their attitude to the large crowd did nothing to dispel the image of two new lovers. Miguel was so deeply under Randy's spell that he was blind to the repercussions of the situation. He was brand new to the tribe and did not appreciate all the nuances and undercurrents of feeling that ran through it.

As for Randy, he was on a macho high. His pride had been damaged when he had first challenged the newcomer and been beaten by him in a fight, a startling event that quickly became common knowledge to the whole tribe. What made it worse was that Miguel was Zack's man, and there had always been a friendly rivalry between the two construction bosses.

But now Randy had buried that humiliation and had triumphed and re-established his stature as unquestioned leader of the tribe. He had lost the first fight but had won the battle decisively, to the extreme of taking Miguel as his own man, a top-man in his own image whom he now owned. And overriding all that was the fact that the two men were besotted with each other, having spent a day and night of non-stop fucking.

There was a hush over the tribe and all eyes turned to Bob ... who as usual rose to the occasion. Banishing his own inner panic he strode forward with a broad smile and said, "Hey, guys ... glad to see you two made up – un-buried the hatchet and ... and ... became buddies."

He knew how lame that last word was, faced with the obvious sensuality burning between the two men, but he pushed bravely on and shook Randy's hand warmly (in place of the usual tight hug.) "Good trip, eh, buddy?"

"The best!' Randy's eyes gleamed with a look Bob recognized – a look of excitement that Randy usually reserved for Bob himself. "Man, you are not gonna believe this guy. He's one of the best. Good trip!? It was fucking sensational." He grabbed Miguel's wrist and raised his arm in the air like a victorious fighter. "Hey guys, most of you haven't met Miguel yet so let me introduce the newest and hottest member of the tribe, my man Miguel. You're gonna be seeing a lot more of him ... and us."

Miguel was thrilled to be praised by Randy who had given him his resounding seal of approval to the whole tribe. Randy led him into the crowd where a mix of confused emotions reigned.

The men were all polite, of course, and hugely impressed by the man's beauty and power. But they were also painfully aware of the snub Randy had just handed to Bob. Bob was the universally loved and respected founder of the tribe and Randy's lover from the very beginning. But now the unthinkable seemed to be happening. Had Randy really transferred his love and affection from Bob to this new man?"

Mark was quick to move beside Bob in a protective posture as Miguel approached the stunned black construction boss Zack, the man who had discovered Miguel and fallen in love with him ... at least that was the case before Randy took over. "Dude," Miguel said, "we had a spectacular time up at the lake. You never told me your buddy could be so ... so fucking hot."

Zack was about to stammer a reply when Miguel was engulfed by the other men and boys there. But introductions were brief as there were so many men gathered there and Randy wanted to keep Miguel to himself. Trying to hold everything together Bob encouraged the twins and the boys to begin serving the brunch and everyone took their seats at the big table.

The meal was surreal. Under the usual cheerful veneer of chatter and laughter there was a sense that their world was out of balance. The anchors of the tribe were its founders, Randy and Bob, and the passionate love they had always felt for each other. Until now, maybe.

It was hard to comprehend exactly what was happening, although it was taking place under their very eyes. Randy monopolized Miguel, who had eyes only for him, and the sexuality between them was palpable. Darius kept close to Zack, normally so self-controlled and in charge but now seemingly adrift. And Mark sat with Bob, trying to distract him with affectionate and loving conversation.

All of the men instinctively observed the tribe's rule that you did not interfere in the personal life of another man, especially not the boss, but it was hard to ignore the discomfort caused by the situation, and especially by Randy's stream of praise for Miguel that bordered on hero worship. Even Steve, the tribe's therapist and brother of Randy seemed, for once, unsure of a remedy and could only exchange anxious glances with Mark.

All of this added up to a kind of frozen inability to act. And all the while Randy kept up the stream of adulatory banter to Miguel, touching him frequently in a way that could only be a pre-cursor of sex ... even more sex.

But while the men were suspended in a state of inactivity the senior boys were not. Pablo, the twins, Darius and Jamie had gathered anxiously the night before and made a determined pledge that, as Jamie had put it, `if things start to go downhill us guys step in – big time'. Well things were definitely going downhill at breakneck speed and it was time to step in.

The twins had tears in their eyes as they watched their beloved Bob suffer silently, being humiliated by Randy in front of the whole tribe. The boys always circled the wagons when one of them was in trouble and the other three senior boys were heartsick and angry at the obvious distress of the gentle, loving twins.

The pact they had made called for each boy to take responsibility for his master. Clearly the main cause of the problem right now was Randy and his infatuation with Miguel. So the solution – if there was one – lay with his boy (and adopted son) Pablo. But Randy was the tough, savage leader of the tribe and never let anyone interfere with his life. If they did they would surely take a beating.

But Pablo, the muscular young mechanic, had grown up in recent years to become a tough self-assured man, modeled on Randy himself, with the same strength, determination and hot temper of his master. Now, as the other boys looked at him expectantly he had the same clenched jaw, the same steely look in his eye that Randy always had when he was about to take action.

Suddenly the group was stunned to see Pablo get to his feet, look fiercely at Randy and say in an ice-cold tone, "Sir, could I please see you alone round back of the house?"

Randy looked up in surprise. "What d'ya mean, boy? Whatever you've got to say can be said right here in front of everyone. Miguel too, `cos he's one of us now – he sure is."

"Round the back, sir," Pablo said with a steely authority in his voice. And without waiting for a response he walked off round the side of the house, confident that Randy would follow him. Randy grinned and shrugged to the company. "I think I know what this is all about." Then he turned to Miguel. "You, old buddy, with have to do without me for a couple a' minutes. But don't you go anywhere. You stay right there and I'll be right back."

Randy got up and walked toward the house with a hint of arrogance in his stride. In back of the house was a small garden with a lawn surrounded by trees. It was where several of the men and boys came whenever they wanted to be alone to relax and meditate. But this was not going to be relaxed or meditative. Far from it. When Randy got there Pablo faced him with his arms across his chest.

"Hey, kid, I can guess what you want. You want the new guy don't you ... hey who doesn't? The man's a fucking god. But you only had to ask. Miguel will do pretty much what I tell him to at this point, so I can fix you up with him – when him and me take a break. Hey you can even spend the night with us soon. Picture it, buddy, being worked over by two hot top-men like us."

Pablo stared at him with a mix of amazement and anger. "You just don't get it do you, Randy?"

"Get what, kid?"

"That you're an asshole."

For a second Randy thought it was a joke but then he saw the fire in Pablo's eyes. "What the fuck? Watch your mouth, boy. You know you can't talk to me like that."

"Well someone has to. They guys out there won't do it `cos they're scared of you. But not me. I was raised by – guess who? – you, the guy who used to be my hero. And I'm like you, not scared of anyone, even my old man – especially not my old man right now."

"Boy, I warn you. You are this close to feeling my fist. What the fuck's got into you?"

"You have no idea, do you? Have you seen the look on Bob's face? Have you even noticed him since you walked in? The man you claim to love more than your life ... or used to. Obviously that's over now you've gone crazy over this new guy. Man, I've respected you and copied you ever since we met. Even when you lashed out at guys I was on your side – always.

"But I can't stand by and watch you humiliate that beautiful man out there and kick him to the curb like yesterday's trash. I thought you were bigger than that. Seems I was wrong. I was always proud to be your boy, but now I'm ashamed. I hated the sight of you making cow eyes at Miguel – shit, you might as well have fucked him across the table in front of everyone."

Fit to explode Randy roared, "What I do with that guy, or any other guy, is none of your damn business, punk. Who the fuck do you think you are to dictate how I damn-well behave?

"I'm your son!"

"Adopted son," Randy snarled through gritted teeth. "I adopted you, and that can change any time."

"Fine with me – let's get a divorce or whatever they call it. You'd be better off without me. That way you can fuck who you want, betray who you want, destroy who you want – even that gorgeous man out there who's given his life to you. Hell, destroy the whole fucking tribe, why don't you, just so you can have that new piece of ass out there until you get tired of him too and leave him on the trash heap with Bob."

Randy's eyes blazed and he completely lost control. And of course his first impulse was to lash out. He slammed the back of his hand against Pablo's face, one side then the other. But Pablo had been raised by Randy to be as tough as him and, like Randy, he could take a beating without flinching.

He stood his ground and stared Randy defiantly in the eyes. "That's it, dad, hit your boy, just cos he stood up to you the way you taught him to. But you've met you match this time, cos you made me a fighter as tough as you ... and you taught me all your moves."

To prove it he raised his arm and blocked Randy's next blow with his solid forearm, using his other arm to slam his fist on his jaw. It was a brutal blow and Randy staggered backward. Then he launched forward, fists flailing, but Pablo was ready for him. He may not be as big as Randy but he was younger and more agile. He ducked below the fists, dodged and weaved and landed several heavy blows to the gypsy's gut.

Randy doubled over and Pablo ran behind him, threw his arm round his neck and clasped his hands together, pressing the crook of his elbow against the big man's windpipe and trapping him in a brutal headlock. Randy flailed desperately with one arm and grabbed the forearm with his other hand in a frantic effort to pull it off him. But Pablo redoubled his strength, tightening his grip again and again, making Randy choke and his vision blur.

When he had weakened him enough Pablo released the hold, went round the front and shoved Randy back against a tree. Dazed Randy heard him say, "Remember how you told me you can destroy a man? `Go for the balls', you said. Like this," he snarled, slamming his knee up between his legs. Randy's agonized scream echoed round the garden, followed by another as Pablo jerked his knee up again in his groin.

Randy grabbed his balls groaning in pain, but Pablo wasn't quite finished. "Remember my signature move, asshole? My double-forearm smash? Standing to the side of Randy Pablo stretched out his arms, linked his hands and slammed both arms in his stomach – once, twice, three times.

That took the rest of the wind out of Randy and he slid down the tree onto his knees, still grabbing his crotch and sobbing in pain. Pablo moved quickly. There was always rope lying around this garden and he grabbed a length from the ground and went behind the tree. Meeting little resistance from the suffering gypsy he pulled his arms round behind the tree and tied the wrists tight.

Then he stood and faced him, legs apart, arms at his sides, fists clenched. Randy raised a tear-stained agonized face and groaned, "I'll fucking kill you for this, boy. I'm gonna fucking kill you."

"Shut your fucking mouth, man, or I'll shut it for you." He walked forward, grabbed the gypsy's long black hair, yanked his head back and stared down at the once-proud, handsome face. His stubbled jaw sagged open with exhaustion and Pablo yanked open his jeans, pulled out his cock and shoved it deep down Randy's throat, choking him.

Randy pulled desperately against the ropes binding his wrists behind the tree but Pablo said, "Save your strength, man. You taught me how to tie knots, remember? But I defied one of your rules so this time there's no escape knot. No escape, asshole."

Like Randy, fighting always roused Pablo's testosterone and his cock that now drove into Randy's mouth. And there was no denying the erotic effect of watching the macho gypsy boss's agonized, stubbled face being pounded in defeat and humiliation, gagging on the young mechanic's rod as it pistoned in his mouth.

But this was not sexual gratification, this was punishment and Pablo wanted it over. Still pulling the head back by the hair Pablo rammed his cock in hard, then pulled it out and pointed it at the agonized gypsy face. "You deserve this, asshole," Pablo growled as his cock erupted and blasted jizz full in Randy's face, stream after stream until it was in his hair, on his forehead, and running down the chiseled features, over the stubbled chin and dripping onto the heaving chest.

With one last contemptuous look Pablo turned to leave. But in one last feeble act of defiance Randy groaned, "I'm gonna fucking kill you, man. You're not my boy anymore. You hear me? I have no son."

Pablo spun round and walked back to confront him. "What does it fucking take to get through that arrogant skull of yours? Damn right, I'm not your son. That used to be what made me proudest, being the boy of a man like you, but you shredded that. This is what I think of you now." Pablo's cock was still out and he now pointed it down at Randy and let loose a stream of hot piss on his face and all over the gleaming muscles of his body.

He stood back, shoved his cock back in his pants and gazed down at the picture of utter degradation, the King of the Gypsies a broken man, thrashed and humiliated by his own boy, on his knees and smothered in piss and cum.

"You know the worst part?" Pablo said sadly. "That little family you loved so much – your lover Bob, me your son, the twins – all gone. Man, I loved you so much, worshipped you. And this is what's left of us ..." He reached round, yanked off Randy's torn T-shirt, ripped off his own and knotted them together. "You and me, master and boy, shredded, on the scrap heap.

He threw the remains of the T-shirts contemptuously on the ground in front of Randy, leaving him sobbing over them as he turned his back on him and walked out of the garden.

The muted conversation round the table had stalled as they heard screams coming from behind the house. Several of the men stirred to go and intervene but Jamie spoke up in that calm and authoritative voice he had learned from his cop Mark. "Er, if you don't mind, sirs, we boys think it's best to let things take their course." The men stayed put and conversation stayed muted.

Obviously there had been a knock-down drag-out fight and they fully expected Randy to appear, maybe dragging Pablo after him. So a gasp of surprise went up when Pablo appeared round the corner of the house, self-assured, shirtless, with a confident stride. As he approached the table he grinned and said, "Hell, did I miss dessert. Any of that pie left, guys?"

He sat down close to Darius, squeezed his leg under the table and grinned knowingly at Jamie and the twins. Had they known the true ferocity of the fight and the ugly words that had been blurted out, they might reasonably have thought that this had to be the end of a years-long, devoted master/boy relationship.

But Pablo knew better. Those ugly words – Randy's "you're adopted and that can change at any time", and Pablo's defiant reply "fine with me, you'd be better off without me" – those words Pablo knew were just the verbal equivalent of physical punches. They were serious at the time but, no matter how hard the blows, they were nothing that a relationship like theirs could not survive.

Randy and Pablo were seasoned fighters, tough men who went mano-a-mano, the kind who could battle with ruthless savagery, but who could, at the end, pull the defeated rival off the floor and shake hands, a fight well fought. Not that that ending was anywhere close in this fight, but deep down Pablo knew that a relationship with the intensity of the one he shared with Randy could survive being knocked down repeatedly – could survive anything.

Pablo's arrogant demeanor now was due to the fact that he, the boss's boy, had beaten the boss in a fight and punished him for what he considered one of the worst sins he had ever committed against the beloved Bob. Nevertheless, his seeming nonchalance caused a perplexed silence to fall over the group round the table.

Predictably it was Bob who broke the stunned silence. "What about Randy, Pablo. Is he ...?"

"Oh he'll be a gone a while, but don't worry. I left him on his own to think."

"But he's ..."

"Oh you know Randy, sir. Like you always say, `tough as old boots'. Maybe a bit thirsty ... hungry even." He glanced knowingly at the twins who smiled faintly and nodded to each other.

"Oh we can take care of that," said Kevin. "Look, he didn't even finish his food. Whole plate of scrambled eggs here." With drill-team efficiency the twins stood up, Kevin put more eggs on the plate, Kyle filled a bowl with water from the jug, and they smiled at Bob. "Don't worry, sir," Kyle said. "We'll take good care of him."

Together they walked off toward the house carrying the food and water. When they turned the corner they stopped and stared at the broken man on his knees, arms tied behind a tree, head bowed in abject degradation. He was shirtless, the fragments of his T-shirt on the ground before him, and he stunk of cum and piss.

He raised his head and they saw tears running down his cheeks mixed with piss and semen. In a daze he looked up at the twins and moaned, "Water."

"Don't worry, sir," Kevin said brightly, "we've brought you a bowl." Kyle added, "And you didn't finished your meal, sir, so we brought that too – delicious scrambled eggs."

They walked forward and placed the bowl and plate on the ground before him, as elegantly as if they had been serving dinner to a king – which in a way they were. Then they stepped back and looked down at him smiling.

With parched lips Randy groaned, "Lift it up."

Kyle chuckled, "Oh, sir. As we always say, we gladly cook and serve food to you guys every day, but the only thing we can't do is eat it for you. That's up to you."

Randy groaned faintly, "Fuck you," but he was so desperately thirsty that he leaned forward lowered his head and lapped water from the bowl like a dog, while the twins watched calmly with the ice cold smile of revenge in their eyes, revenge for their beloved Bob.

When he had drunk his fill Randy raised his head, water streaming down his chin, and growled, "Cut me loose."

Kevin shrugged regretfully. "Oh dear, sorry, sir, that's something else we can't do. We're chefs, we serve food ... cutting guys loose is not in our job description." "Above our pay grade," Kyle agreed.

Randy stared up at them and, even in his daze, he realized what this was. In their smiling, gentle way, the twins were delivering a shattering indictment of him, a humiliating insult, the ultimate revenge on behalf of their master. The two young chefs were rubbing salt into the wounds, completing his degradation by making him lap water like a beaten dog.

"But there is one more thing we can do for you, sir – a little more protein?" They stood over him, pulled their cocks out of their shorts, and jerked off in unison. They smiled at each other as their cocks sprayed jizz all over the bound gypsy's already cum-streaked face.

As they replaced their cocks neatly in their shorts Kyle said, "That was for Bob, sir, because he's so unhappy." Kevin added kindly. "Do eat, your eggs, sir, or they'll get cold." They turned and as they walked away they smiled back over their shoulders and said in unison, "Bon Appetit, sir."

When the twins resumed their seats at table they smiled at Bob. "He was thirsty, sir," Kevin said. "But he's fine now," Kyle added. "He's just as he should be."

Everyone round the table knew that the senior boys seemed to be acting in unison, taking over where the men had been unsure how to act. So it was not a total surprise when Jamie got to his feet and looked at Miguel. "Er, Miguel. You haven't seen the rest of the garden yet, have you? Let me give you the tour."

"Totally confused and out of his depth by now Miguel looked around and met the blank stares of all the men and boys. Obviously he was meant to comply, so he got to his feet and walked with Jamie toward the house.

"As you see," Jamie said like a tour-guide, "this whole property is a compound, with several apartments, a big kitchen and the company office where I work. The grounds are extensive as you can tell, but there's also a small private garden round the back where men come to meditate sometimes."

They turned the corner of the house and Miguel gasped, rooted to the spot. Under a tree knelt Randy, his arms tied behind the tree, leaning forward, his face buried in a plate of food that he was sucking up like a dog. His face was streaked with cum and tears and his shirtless body gleamed and stunk of piss.

This was the man he had spent the night with, the proud arrogant boss of the tribe, the muscular handsome gypsy who oozed sex appeal and used it to make men fall under his spell. And now here he was bound, broken and degraded like a beaten animal. Miguel felt his legs go weak and he had to hold onto the corner of the building. Then he moved as if to walk to Randy but Jamie put a restraining hand on his arm.

"Better not, dude," he said softly. "The guys wouldn't like it. See, the tribe has its rules and rituals and this how they treat a man who has injured another one ... or two, or, as in this case, several ... the whole tribe, in fact. The greater the offense, the greater the punishment and humiliation." Jamie smiled kindly. "You'll discover that the tribe is a lot more than just a bunch of great-looking men and boys. You too will get to know the rules and rituals ..." Jamie shrugged and his smile widened ... "if you stay with us, that is."

Miguel choked and the sound made Randy look up from his food. His eyes met Miguel's for a few agonizing seconds. Miguel whimpered, turned and stammered, "Gotta get out of here."

The meal was winding down when they all saw Miguel, no longer the proud smiling top-man, stumble across the grass then through the gate to Zack's house across the street. Zack, finally galvanized into action, left the table and followed him. There was a move among other men to go and assist but Darius and Pablo stood up.

"No, sirs," Pablo said. "The senior boys have taken care of things up to now, and now it's Darius's turn. You need a hand, buddy?"

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

Jamie came back to the table, the twins stood up and the five boys high fived each other with rueful smiles. Then Darius and Pablo went out through the gate and across the street.

Mark stood up and said, "Gentlemen, I think brunch is over for this week. It's been, er ... an unusual meal and we'll keep you all posted as to how things turn out. Our ever-efficient grapevine will take care of that."

Steve sat with Bob for a few minutes and promised to be only a phone call away when he needed him. Then the party broke up, with the junior boys scurrying around to clear up, dying for the opportunity to huddle and talk everything through.

Nate, the house manager, was the only senior boy not to have taken part in the action today as his master Adam had not been involved in the Randy/Miguel saga. He now rounded up the boys and invited them next door to his and Adam's house for the rest of the afternoon to hang out and `dish' as young Eddie called it.

Bob leaned for support on Mark, who said, "Better get this over with, buddy." Together they walked round to the small garden and gasped as they saw the agonizing spectacle of Randy slumped forward, arms stretched behind him, head bent in shame. He hardly stirred as they ran to him and Mark used a knife to cut the rope Pablo had so expertly knotted. Bob held Randy and laid him on the ground.

"Randy, let Mark and me help you upstairs."

"I'm staying here," Randy growled. "I'll sleep here."

Bob looked uncertainly at Mark who nodded. He knew Randy well and was sure he wouldn't want to have contact with anyone for a while. He whispered to Bob, "He needs to be alone ... time to think."

"OK, Randy," Bob said. "I'll have the twins bring you blankets and pillows, water and anything else you need. I'll be upstairs ... with Mark." Randy grunted and closed his eyes. Mark put his arm round Bob and they walked round to the front of the house.

At the entrance Bob gazed at Mark. "Jesus, Mark, I feel so feeble right now. All this has knocked me out – me, the bigshot executive. Not much of the Superman left in me now, eh?"

"You're allowed, buddy. You're still the bigshot to me. And I'm gonna stay with you the rest of the day and the night. I'm here for you as long as you need me ... forever if that's how things turn out."

They kissed and went up to the master suite.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The feelings mutual, asshole," Miguel yelled.

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

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

They also didn't realize they were standing under the branch of a tree high above their heads. Using the leather-sex paraphernalia that always littered the garden Pablo had thrown two ropes over the branch and attached a pair of wrist restrains to the ends of each. These ropes now hung, unnoticed, above their heads.

"Darius," Zack said, "this is ridiculous. Let's just sit and talk this out ... "

"I said be quiet," Darius growled. Zack sighed and rolled his eyes, but suddenly Pablo emerged from the trees and the two boys went into lightening action, aided by the element of surprise. They stood behind Zack and, before he could react, they grabbed his arms, pushed them up high, slipped the restraints over his wrists and pulled them tight.

"What the fuck?" Miguel yelled and reflexively reached up to free Zack's wrists. That was exactly the wrong thing to do as the boys were now able to grab his wrists up high. He struggled but, despite his great strength, he was no match for these two pumped muscle-jocks who soon had his hands bound too.

Zack and Miguel were now facing each other, inches apart, tugging furiously at the restraints above them. "Darius," Zack barked, "I'm warning you ... I don't know what stunt you're trying to pull here but it'll get you nowhere. I'm in just the right mood to throw you out of my life too."

"Seems I have nothing to lose either way, sir, with you two breaking up." The two men were already shirtless and Darius quickly ripped open Zack's jeans pulled them down and yanked them off with his boots. Pablo did the same to Miguel so the two men were naked facing each other.

"You got the clamps dude?" Pablo produced two sets of tit clamps connected by chains that had been lying on the ground. He clamped one set to Zack's nipples while Darius linked the other set through the chain and clamped the ends to Miguel's tits. So the men were effectively tied together by their nipples.

"Don't worry, guys," Darius said, "they're not alligator clips with serrated teeth. They're just tight enough to cause that sexy kinda pain. I should know, eh Zack? Just don't pull back, cos if the chains tighten you'll hurt the other guy as much as yourself. Oh, and just one more thing."

Pablo had two lengths of cord and they stretched the men's balls and tied a cord round the base of the ball-sac, then knotted the ropes together. Reflexively the men pulled back but their balls were tied together and the pain made them jerk forward against each other.

"Darius," Zack growled, "you cut this out right now, you hear? This joke has gone far enough."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And they clinked glasses.

TO BE CONTINUED IN "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 371

Hey guys, this is Rob Williams. I hope that chapter got you off, and I welcome your comments and suggestions, which can be very helpful in planning future chapters. E-mail me in confidence at rw6789@aol.com.

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

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