A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 294 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER: The new chef Danny triumphs at a major gathering of the tribe. But Mark, the cop, comes home tense from a tough shift and seeks relief in rough sex with his boy Jamie. "The shirtless cop was beautiful in his savagery as he pounded the blond surfer." Randy competes by dominating the new boy Thomas. "The eager young gymnast was powerless in his desire to submit to the gypsy's raw animal lust."

Chapter 294 – "THE GATHERING OF THE CLAN"

It had been a tumultuous first day for the two newcomers to the clan.

Thomas, the handsome but arrogant young blond gymnast who considered himself a dominant top-man, had by now been reduced to a submissive captive, begging for domination himself. He was destined to become the boy of Randy's boy Pablo, but for tonight Pablo had turned him over to Zack, the muscular black leather master, who had used him as a bound exhibit, a tool in teaching his boy Darius how to train a new recruit.

Zack was a master at playing with men's minds and for now he gave a humiliated Thomas only a frustrating glimpse of the leather world that he now craved. Zack explained his technique to Darius. "The guy's gotta get seriously mind-fucked before we get down to the real physical business. He's gonna have to wait for it, and that'll be more painful than any whip. See, he's already longing for it, but I want more from this narcissistic pretty-boy gymnast. I want him to grovel, to crawl, to degrade himself as he begs for more.

So Zack took the tamed young athlete down to the fully equipped basement, its walls covered in floor to ceiling mirrors, with red spotlights strategically placed in the black ceiling.

"Right, so here's what's gonna happen. You sleep here alone tonight, and in the morning you get cleaned up and we'll go across to the house where Bob has arranged a full-tribe gathering where you'll get to meet all the other men and their boys.

"By the time it all winds down in the afternoon, me and Darius will be a bit drunk, real horny, and ready for action. Then, and only then, we'll bring you back here to this room and I will continue my boy's instruction – and your initiation."

Left alone, his mind spinning in a vortex of lust and longing for Zack, Thomas looked in the mirror at his defined gymnast body, wondering what Zack would subject it to. His cock was raging hard. Then he caught sight of a disheveled pile of old clothes discarded by Zack and Darius after strenuous sexual workouts in this room. Staring down at the messy pile he grabbed his pulsing cock, and semen blasted from it and splashed all over the master's sweaty castoffs.

Whimpering, he fell forward on his stomach and buried his face in the cum-soaked heap of clothes. And there, naked on the floor, is where he slept all night, dreaming of tomorrow"

Danny had also had a jam-packed, fun-filled day. First he had been treated to triple blow-jobs from the experts, his new buddies the three amigos – Eddie, Brandon and Ben.

Then the twins had offered him a job in the kitchen as assistant chef after he had impressed everyone with a chocolate soufflé that Bob and Randy described as "orgasmic." The twins rewarded him with an invitation to spend the night with them, a mind blowing experience of the two brothers making love to him, endlessly reflected in the bedroom's parallel mirrors, surrounding him with an infinity of identically beautiful boys.

Early next morning the twins put Danny right to work helping them prepare the Saturday brunch Bob had arranged that would be attended by all the two dozen or so members of the tribe. One of his first assigned duties was to take a breakfast tray up to Bob and Randy, a morning ritual that turned out to involve rather more than just delivering food.

The men had just finished making love (another morning ritual) and Danny helped clean them up (more precisely lick them up), an act that roused him to such a peak that he busted a load all over them, much to Randy's amusement.

Downstairs in the garden the three amigos were waiting for their new friend, and as Danny emerged from the master suite they pounced. "Well? ... What happened?"

"A whole lot," Danny grinned, "but I gotta get back to the kitchen."

"So," Ben asked breathlessly, "does that mean you're hired?"

"I guess so," Danny smiled. "I'm already working like crazy in the kitchen on this brunch. I mean, the twins have to get Bob's approval, of course, and they say I have to have an interview with Human Resources, which sounds a bit scary."

"Dude," Brandon laughed, "Human Resources in this place is Jamie, and he ain't scary at all. Wait `til you see him, and his master Mark. Be warned, kid. You're gonna meet a whole bunch of other guys today who'll blow your mind."

Across the street, when Thomas woke that morning he had been put to work making coffee and serving breakfast to Zack and Darius before getting ready for this big tribal gathering. Darius had found a pair of tight leather pants that fit Thomas and chose a black ribbed tank top for him that showed off his gymnast's physique to perfection.

Zack vigorously tousled the Golden Boy's blond hair and said, "Yeah, you're looking more the part now, Tommy. I think the guys will be impressed, especially Pablo when I turn you back to him. But like I said, in the afternoon I'm gonna tell Pablo I need to borrow you again and bring you back here to, er ... further your education. But I repeat, it's all voluntary ... you only get it if you want it."

Thomas replied eagerly, "Oh, please, sir, I want it, sir. All of it."

In the kitchen the three chefs were working hard, all dressed alike in white shorts and T-shirts, white aprons and their new jaunty chefs' hats Bob had bought for them. Already Danny had learned the twins' rhythm as they glided around the kitchen and he fitted in perfectly so no one got in anyone's way. Mostly they worked silently but at one point Kyle asked, "So how did it go with Bob and Randy? Did they cum when they bit into the croissants?"

"No, they'd already done that just before I got there so I ... like, I kinda cleaned Bob up and ..."

"Yeah ... and?" grinned Kevin. "Hey, no secrets in this kitchen, dude. The chefs in this outfit know most of what goes on in this house. So spill..."

Danny blushed deeply. "Well, as I licked the jizz off Bob I got so stoked that I ... I couldn't help it, I shot a load of cum over them. I thought for sure they'd fire me but Randy roared with laughter and said that I definitely belonged here."

"That's Randy for you," Kyle said. "Just so you know, that's how it works. If Bob wants you to stay, Randy wants it too, and if Randy wants it, you're in kiddo. You're under his protection and he'll never let anything bad happen to you. Various bad guys have tried in the past and they're probably still hobbling round on crutches after the beating they got from Randy."

Kyle looked out the window and said, "From this window we get to see all the comings and goings, and what we don't see Bob tells us about. And right now I see guys starting to arrive. Bob, Randy and Pablo are already there and here come the Aussies from next door. We're pretty much organized in here so why don't you go out and see to the table. The three amigos usually work as runners ferrying food out, and they're sure to tell you who's who."

"Here," Kevin said, "let's take a look at you." He pulled Danny's hat a bit more to the side and brushed off his apron, feeling the bulge of his cock underneath. "Dude, do you always have a permanent boner or what?"

"Never used to," Danny grinned. "Not `til I came here."

"Well you're gonna see a lot of hot men today," Kyle said, so make sure you don't bust your load under that apron. There's a hygiene rule against that. We got it posted on the bulletin board over there."

Danny laughed and kissed them both. "I love you guys." He took a deep breath, adjusted his hat again, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and went out to meet the tribe.

"Hey, you must be the new bloke we've been hearing so much about." The exuberant Australian accent belonged to Adam, the tall, dark-haired hunk in jeans and a black V-neck T-shirt, striding toward him his hand outstretched to shake Danny's. "Good on ya, mate. The name's Adam and this is my boy Nate."

The cheerful young Aussie gave Danny a quick hug. "G'day, mate. We'll be seeing a lot of each other `cos I'm in charge of keeping the house clean so I coordinate with the twins. Eddie's my assistant. Brilliant hat, by the way," he grinned. "Hey, hope you're making the dessert today, dude. We heard all about the chocolate soufflé and those chocolate croissants. Any of those left?"

Danny showed him a pile of them on the table but didn't have time to chat as he was working with the three amigos shuttling food out from the kitchen. Suddenly Ben broke away and ran over to a new arrival, a muscular man in gym shorts and a loose tank whose spectacular blond looks took Danny's breath away. "I've seen that guy somewhere before," he murmured to Brandon as the man swung Ben round in his arms.

Ben pulled him over to Danny and said proudly, "Dude, this here is Jason ... he's a fireman and I'm his boy!" Jason gave hm a firm handshake and a dazzling smile and for a moment Danny was struck dumb. When he found his voice he stammered, "Sir, I've seen your picture ... are you...?"

"... the guy in the calendar?" Ben cut in. "August page? He sure is."

"But you're a real fireman, sir? I mean, I thought they hired these handsome muscle-jocks and dressed them up as firemen for the calendar. I used to jack..." He stopped in embarrassment.

"... to jack off over the picture?" Jason laughed. "Yup, that's me. A lot of guys beat off over that. The only complaint I get is when the pages get stuck together with cum. And yes, I'm a real fireman. Matter of fact I first came here the day the twins started a fire when the barbecue got out of control. And I'm still here."

"He's not the only one!" Eddie bounced up pulling behind him a man who made Danny's jaw drop again. The tall, exotic-looking man with square, chiseled features, part Asian, part Arab, was wearing military fatigue pants and a khaki tank stretched over a hard-muscled chest.

To tell the truth, Danny found him a bit intimidating – more withdrawn, not as high-spirited as Jason – until his face opened in a broad smile and his deep accented voice said, "Hi, Danny, welcome to the group. I'm Hassan. My boy Eddie here talked about nothing else but you last night – and you know how Eddie can talk."

"He's a Marine," Eddie said, hopping from one foot to another, bursting with pride. "He makes these recruitment videos for the Marines and one day he took me to the shoot and included me in it as a wounded soldier... he had to carry me out to ..."

It was obvious Eddie was embarking on one of his marathon monologues but fortunately Pete showed up just then and gave a subtle signal to his boy Brandon who took his cue and jogged Danny's elbow. "Dude, I think the twins are signaling you from the window. You better go."

"It's an honor to meet you, sir," Danny said as Hassan released his bone-crushing handshake. When he ran into the kitchen he found Kyle and Kevin talking to a handsome young man with tousled blond hair and a golden tan wearing board shorts, unlaced sneakers and a loose, faded tank-top – the iconic image of a sexy blond California surfer.

"Oh, Danny," Kyle said. "You haven't met Jamie yet." The stunning surfer flashed a smile and looked as if he was about to hug Danny, but then contented himself with a formal handshake.

"Hello, sir," Danny stammered. "You're Human Resources, aren't you?"

Jamie laughed, "Well I hope I'm a bit more than that. And you don't have to call me sir, Danny. Jamie works just fine. Looks like the twins have already got you working flat out in here but sure, I do have to interview you to make things formal – paperwork and all."

"See," Danny said nervously, "I don't have much of a résumé, sir ... er, Jamie. I had just that pastry-chef job in Seattle and then became a waiter at the hotel. I hope it's gonna be enough."

"Don't sweat it, Danny," Jamie smiled. "We don't really go by résumé's round here. If we did none of the boys would be working – me included. Bob taught me that résumé's are usually padded anyway, and the best way to get to know a guy is just by talking to him ... and in your case by eating what he cooks. From what I hear your chocolate mousse and croissants are way more impressive than any résumé."

"Thank you, sir." Danny winced, "I mean Jamie. Sorry, sir." He winced again and Jamie chuckled, "`Dude' works just as well if you find that easier. Like they say, I don't care what you call me as long as you feed me." Just then a timer pinged. "Talking of which ... is that yours?"

"My quiche. I made a lot of them as there are so many guys. They're almost ready. Just a few final touches."

"Another of Danny's specialties," Kyle grinned. You're in for a real treat, Jamie."

Jamie grinned, "So is Danny ... I'd bet money on it."

Saturday brunch was a pretty informal affair, with only a vague start time. The tribe assembled slowly, and by now most of them were there, gathered round the table in casual groups.

There was a stir when the gate opened and in came Zack and Darius in their usual black jeans and T-shirts, followed by Thomas, looking meek but really sexy in the leather pants and black tank top that Darius had dressed him in, his usually coiffed blond hair all mussed up by Zack.

"Wow," Pablo said to Randy. "The guy's looking really hot after Zack and Darius have worked on him. Thanks for giving him to me as my boy, sir."

"Yeah," Randy said, "but don't let that submissive look fool you. He has a mean streak that runs real deep. If you need a hand taming him you can count on me. You're right about his looks, though. Shit, I feel like bending him over the table right now and fucking that gorgeous ass."

"Not a good idea at brunch, Randy," Bob said sternly.

Instantly annoyed by the reprimand Randy glared at Bob, but softened when he met the soft brown eyes with the hint of a smile. "OK, not over the table, maybe," he growled, "but when I decide I want that ass I take it. He's my boy's boy, after all. That clear?"

"Perfectly clear," said Bob with a sigh.

Pablo went over to Thomas. "Hey, Tommy, you have a good night? Zack treat you well?"

"Yeah," said Thomas in a slightly sullen tone, still not used to being subservient to a guy about the same age as him, especially after willingly submitting to an acknowledged master like Zack. But when Pablo's eyes flashed and he clenched his fists Thomas realized his mistake and said, "Yes, sir, I was treated very well, sir."

Zack interjected, "Er, if it's OK with you, Pablo, I'd like to borrow him back this afternoon. Me and Darius have a little unfinished business with him."

"Fine by me, sir," Pablo grinned. "OK Thomas, now come and meet the guys." Making it clear he was the boy's boss Pablo introduced him around and Thomas felt himself shrinking as he met one spectacular man after another. In his world he had always been the Golden Boy and felt superior to others, but here he was like a minnow in a shimmering pond full of exotic fish.

Even though everyone knew the story of Thomas's arrival at the house – and Randy's designated role for him as the tribe's first boy's boy – all the guys treated him genially and welcomed him as they would any newcomer to the house.

Randy watched carefully as Thomas sat between Pablo and Darius and they engaged him in conversation, explaining some of the activities, rituals and nuances of the tribe. Randy had taught Pablo that the first imperative was to gain the confidence and respect of his new boy.

Eddie and Ben were sitting at table with their masters Hassan and Jason but Danny was still standing near the kitchen with Brandon waiting for the quiche to be ready. Just then there were two more arrivals, Steve and Lloyd, who were warmly greeted by Bob and Randy. Danny gazed at the two gorgeous men and said the Brandon, "And those two hunks would be ...?"

"The one who looks just like Randy is his brother Steve, a Beverly Hills therapist, the tribe's shrink really. You'll probably have a session with him sooner or later... we all have and I warn you, it'll be a pretty wild session. The handsome guy with him is his lover Lloyd, the firm's architect. They live in a big house on Mulholland.

Steve was saying, "Bob, we left Mario and Grady up at the house. They send their apologies but they'll be a bit late so start without them. They're, er ..."

"They're fucking is what they're doing," grinned Randy. "Shit, don't those guys ever come up for air? They spend all fucking day in bed making love."

"Not that there's anything wrong with that," Bob chuckled. "We should try it someday, buddy."

"Who are they?" Danny asked Brandon.

"Grady and Mario? You'll see," said Brandon mysteriously. I mentioned them before but you've probably forgotten – so many guys all at once. Apart from them that's pretty much everyone ... oh, except for Mark, Jamie's master. He's a motorcycle cop, been working the night shift, but he should be here any time now. See how Jamie keeps looking at the gate?" Danny recalled what Eddie had told him about Mark – "People call him a Greek God, the most beautiful cop in the world ..."

And suddenly there he was. They heard a motorcycle pull up outside, the gate opened and Danny thought, wow, another porn icon. Tall, broad-shouldered, striking in his black uniform and high, shiny motorcycle boots, the cop unbuckled his helmet, took it off and ran his hand through his thick blond hair. "Told you so," Brandon whispered to Danny.

Danny gaped in awe at the strong chiseled features, square jaw, high cheek bones and blue-gray eyes. The uniform did little to hide his muscular physique underneath. But it was what came next that took his breath away. The cop's face was set in a fierce expression and he ignored the crowd at the table.

"Looks like it was a rough shift," Brandon said. "You can tell he's real tense. Watch this, Danny."

Suddenly Jamie jumped to his feet and ran to face his master. "Welcome home, sir." Danny stared in disbelief as the handsome young surfer pulled his tank top off over his head, kicked off his sneakers, dropped his surfer trunks and stood naked before the cop.

He looked stunningly beautiful naked, his rippling muscles toned from long hours in the surf, face and body tanned golden by the sun, sharp tan lines above and below the white globes of his perfect ass. As he met the cop's steady gaze his cock rose until it was standing straight out of the mass of curly blond pubic hair. The cop stared at him and, without saying a word, grabbed him behind the neck and marched him to the house and into their ground-floor apartment. The door closed behind them.

"What's he gonna do to him?" Danny said, mesmerized.

"Duh ... what d'ya think, dude? He's gonna fuck him. And by the look on his face he's had a real rough night with that bike throbbing between his legs for eight hours, so Jamie's gonna really get it."

"Well," Danny grinned, "Jamie did say he was more than just Human Resources."

"Oh believe me, he's got plenty of resources, though I'd say right now they're more animal than human, and he's gonna need them. We should be so lucky."

"Ya don't say," said Danny staring at the closed door.

As Brandon surmised, Mark had had a really rough shift – responding to a fatal car wreck, a domestic abuse call and drug-dealing in the underbelly of the city – all of it leaving him wound up tight as a drum. What he needed now was gentleness to offset violence, beauty to counter ugliness, love to replace hate. Most of all he needed release of the tension that was all centered in his loins

Jamie sensed all this. He knew his master well in all his moods – and this was a dark one. Lying on his back on the bed he drew back his heels, his knees bent, showing a glimpse of the perfect ass he was offering to the stressed-out police officer.

Mark gazed down at him and murmured, "Fuck, the thought of that was what kept me going, boy. I've wanted that all night. And now I'm gonna take it."

Jamie pulled his legs back up high and the cop stared down at the flawless white globes, a fuzz of blond hair round the hole. Mark yanked open his black uniform pants and pulled out his massive cock, already hard as steel. Jamie dipped his fingers in the open jar of lube by the bed and greased his master's cock, which Mark pushed between his ass cheeks and pressed against the hole.

He reached forward and ran his hand over the boy's handsome, sun-tanned face. Jamie's beauty was an antidote to the squalor of the city streets that he still needed to purge from his mind. Suddenly he reared back and howled, as if to the hostile streets, "Fuck you ... fuck you ... fuck you...!" And he plunged his cock deep into his boy's ass.

Jamie's eyes opened wide in shock and gasped in pain. Mark almost never hurt him when he fucked him – he made love to his ass. But this time was different. Jamie stared up in awe as the cop, eyes blazing, his cock buried in his boy's ass, ripped open his black shirt, pulled it off and tossed it angrily across the room. He pulled his T-shirt off over his head and flung it away too. Then he grabbed Jamie's ankles high in the air, pulled his cock all the way back ... and once again slammed it ferociously into the depths of his ass.

Despite the pain Jamie stared up at the muscle-god cop, stripped to the waist, his magnificent torso gleaming, striped by the sunlight pouring through the slatted blinds. It was a sight that, no matter how many times he saw it, never ceased to thrill him. This time the usually smiling face was beautiful in its savagery, jaw clenched, eyes staring wildly, blond hair falling over his brow.

"Fuck ... fuck ... fuck," Mark roared as he pounded the young surfer's ass. All the pent-up anger he had forced himself to suppress on the job now rose to the surface and distorted his view. Staring down at the beautiful face, he saw not Jamie but the anguished and sinister faces he had confronted that night on the streets. He had to rid himself of them, to pound them into oblivion ... and so he pounded ass.

He leaned forward and braced his hands on the bed beside the writhing boy as his cock ramrodded inside him. Jamie reflexively put his hands on Mark's chest with the impulse to push him away, but as soon as his palms felt his pecs and he dug his fingers into the rock hard muscles he forgot the pain. His sole impulse now was to bring relief to his troubled master.

For an instant Jamie's old insecurity made him think that the anger in Mark's eyes was meant for him, but then realized that it was directed at the grimness of the city streets he had patrolled all night. Jamie felt that anger pounding in his ass and actually felt privileged to be the vessel in which his master sought to drown his demons. Jamie loved being Mark's boy, even if occasionally that also meant being his whipping boy.

The cop's steel shaft pistoned inside him like a weapon of revenge, doling out physical punishment to the thugs he had been prevented, as a cop, from beating up on the streets. As he vented his anger his hips moved ever faster, the rod penetrated deeper and the pain increased. Tears were now flowing down Jamie's cheeks and he moaned, "Sir, you're hurting me, sir. It really hurts."

The sound of the plaintive voice, Jamie's voice, jolted Mark back to reality. The madness suddenly lifted and he was staring down at his beautiful boy, at the boy he loved. He frowned in confusion as he heard muffled sobs, saw the handsome face wincing in pain, tears running from the anguished eyes. It was as if he were waking from a nightmare whose monsters faded fast to be replaced by ... by Jamie, his Jamie, his beautiful Jamie.

The truth crashed in on him and he howled, "No ... I hurt my boy." Gazing down at Jamie's tear-stained face Mark tried to make sense of what was happening. He had, of course, heard all the stories of disturbed cops who took their troubles and tensions home with them and beat their wives. Was that him? The cool, confident, fair-minded cop ... had he lost it and abused his boy? The thought horrified him.

"Jamie ... it's me, Jamie. It's Mark ... and I love you." Gently he pulled his cock out and fell forward on Jamie, burying his face in Jamie's neck and sobbing out the last wretched remains of the tension that had been building all night.

Jamie folded his hand round the blond hair at the nape of Mark's neck and held him tight, a boy comforting his master. Feeling Jamie's soothing touch Mark raised his head and licked the tears from his boy's face, kissing his lips, his cheeks, his eyes.

With tears in his own eyes he pleaded, "Forgive me, Jamie. I hurt you. I just ... lost my mind. I'm sorry. I love you, Jamie. What can I do?"

Jamie smiled, "You could make love to me, sir, like you always do when you come home."

"Yes," Mark responded, like a desperate man grabbing at a life-belt. "Yes, that's it ... make love ... that's what we'll do."

Jamie eased himself out from under his master, took his hand and said, "Allow me, sir." He led the shirtless cop over to the big armchair, Mark sank into it with a sigh, and Jamie proceeded with the daily ritual of removing his master's shiny black motorcycle boots.

He turned his back to him, pulled one foot up between his legs and grasped the boot's heel. Mark pressed his other boot against one flexing white globe of Jamie's ass and pushed until his boot came free and Jamie stumbled forward. With a grin he did the same to the other boot.

Mark stood, Jamie knelt before him, unbuckled the heavy belt, pulled the pants down and off over his feet with his socks. He lowered his head and kissed his master's bare feet, then pressed his cheek against his muscled thigh. Mark leaned down, pulled Jamie to his feet, held him at arm's length and smiled, "Thank you, Jamie. You're the best boy a man ever had."

"Thank you, sir. I'm here to take care of you, sir, the way you take care of me."

The naked cop lifted the boy bodily in his arms, carried him over to the bed and laid him gently on his back. He knelt on the bed between his legs, raised them up and pressed the head of his cock between the mounds of his ass. Jamie flinched reflexively in reaction to the pounding shaft of moments ago.

"Not this time," Mark smiled. "This time we're making love."

And so they did, with Mark's long, hard cock easing into his boy and gently massaging the velvet-soft membrane of his ass as they stroked each other's bodies, squeezed their nipples, gazed into each other's eyes and then kissed. It was one of those open-mouthed air-tight kisses where they shared the same breath, confident it would sustain them both, as they sustained each other.

The tribe specialized in stunning homoerotic images and this was one of the best – a muscular Greek-God cop and handsome young surfer boy making love, master and boy united in a rapturous embrace.

When their passion reached its inevitable climax Mark said, "You ready, Jamie? Let's do it together." Mark held his boy tight, their bodies shuddered and their juice poured out of them, a healing balm that vanquished Mark's demons and reaffirmed the power of their love.

Not that it was ever in doubt.

While Jamie lay in Mark's arms, his head resting on his master's chest, the tranquility of their room was in marked contrast to the noisy scene outside at the table. Now that everyone had arrived (except still no Grady or Mario) the clamor of voices grew louder, especially when the twins and Danny appeared from the kitchen holding trays and Kyle said, "Gentlemen, your first course today is a special treat from our new assistant chef Danny. The most spectacular quiche you've ever tasted."

"Quiche?" Darius shouted in mock horror. "Hey, guys, ain't you ever heard the saying that real men don't eat quiche?"

"Darius, my boy," Randy laughed, "ain't you ever heard that real men don't give a shit what `real men' eat? Real men eat whatever the fuck they want, so bring it on, guys."

When it was served and the men and boys took their first taste there were awestruck exclamations round the table. Danny's quiche was an instant hit. Lloyd said, "Hell, Danny, I've never tasted pastry this light – it's fucking fantastic. Hey, if ever you get fired from here there's a job for you as resident pastry chef at our house. When you come up for your shrink session with Steve can you bring a couple of these quiches with you?"

"Hey," Steve grinned, "You're jumping the gun there, buddy. We haven't scheduled a session yet. But, Danny, when we do you have to stay for dinner, on one condition – you bring dessert."

Danny blushed deeply being the focus of so much praise, especially from the gorgeous doctor and his sexy lover Lloyd. Danny caught Bob's eye who smiled warmly and raised his wineglass in a silent toast. In all the turmoil of a festive meal like this Bob, as usual, was content to sit back and observe the group, his sensitive antennae attuned to the nuances and undercurrents of a diverse and multilayered bunch of men like this.

It was acknowledged that Bob and Randy, the founding members of the tribe, now shared the leadership. Steve had once laughingly said that if Randy was the ringmaster, cracking the whip, Bob was the puppet-master pulling the strings. Bob rejected that description, preferring to think of himself as nudging guys and events in a certain direction and letting nature takes it course.

He was pleased with the way things were going with the two boys he and Randy had met at the hotel and encouraged to come to the house. Danny was an obvious hit, enthusiastically welcomed by the twins into their kitchen (and into their bed, so he heard) and he was becoming a close friend of Brandon's.

Thomas was, of course, cut from a different cloth but he was, contrary to his flimsy veneer of arrogant top-man, finding the discipline he needed and craved, first from Pablo and Darius, then Randy and now (and also later this afternoon he assumed) from Zack and Darius. Bob knew from experience that it was Randy who really had Thomas under his spell. When it came to raw domination Randy was unmatched – truly the King of the Gypsies.

And that was something that now gave Bob some cause for concern as he watched Randy and judged his mood. It had begun when Mark had come home with a thunderous expression that denoted a really tough night patrolling Hollywood's seamier neighborhoods. There had been a collective gasp as the gorgeous senior boy Jamie had immediately offered himself to the cop by stripping naked before him, and had been propelled into the house.

Bob had watched Randy's eyes when that happened, and later when they caught the sounds of Jamie's loud cries of anguish and ecstasy. No one had any doubts about what the cop was doing to his beautiful boy and there were many hidden erections under the table.

Randy loved Mark and admired the cop's self-assured machismo, which also accounted for Randy's competitive feeling toward him, instincts which, in fact, Randy harbored toward any handsome, dominant male. Where Mark went, Randy always had to go one better.

But, more than that, seeing the cop take charge of the naked young surfer had stirred Randy's sexual lust, which was always present just under the skin, even when he had so recently and repeatedly had sex with Bob. Testosterone ran rampant in the wild gypsy and had to be fed.

Bob sensed that impulse rising in Randy as they heard the erotic noises coming from Mark's room, so it was no surprise to Bob when Randy suddenly stood up and said to Pablo, "Pablo, I want you to lend me your boy for a few minutes."

Surprised and intrigued, Pablo was always ready to indulge the man he worshipped. So he grinned his crooked grin and said, "Sure, sir, of course. Tommy, go with Randy." There was a stunned silence round the table and Steve threw an uneasy glance at Bob who simply raised his eyebrows and shrugged in a gesture that said, `What can you do? That's Randy'.

Fortunately, whatever Randy had in mind was not performed right there in front of the group. At least he had that much restraint. Instead he grabbed the boy's arm and pushed him round to a secluded spot behind the house. He shoved the young gymnast against the wall and said, "You know what I want, don't you, Tommy?"

"Yes, sir."

"I told you when you came here, no matter whose boy you were or who wanted to work you over, like my buddy Zack, that perfect ass of yours would always be mine when I wanted it. And I want it now, boy, real bad. You saw what the cop's boy did, uh?"

"Yes, sir." Clumsily, nervously, Thomas stripped naked and stood before the man he craved. He had been mesmerized by the leather world of Zack and Darius and was even coming to terms with being the boy of the tough, handsome Pablo. But always he lusted for Randy and had a permanent hard-on in his presence. Now, staring into those hypnotic blue eyes his cock was already shuddering and dripping pre-cum.

Randy pulled off his own T-shirt and Thomas gasped, gazing once again at the magnificent physique and the swarthy gypsy face with its heavily stubbled jaw, prominent cheek bones, long black hair ... and those eyes ... always the eyes. Randy smiled seductively, clamped his hand round the boy's throat and pushed his head back against the wall.

He clamped his mouth over his and ground their lips together in a kiss so fierce that Thomas inhaled sharply, swallowing Randy's warm breath, overwhelmed by the taste, smell and very essence of this powerful man. Randy ground the bulge in his jeans against the boy's shuddering cock and pressed his bare chest against the smooth flesh of the gymnast torso, chafing the boy's nipples with his chest hair.

Thomas was powerless to resist the gypsy's raw animal lust and the overpowering desire to submit to him. His body shook and he screamed into the gag of Randy's mouth as his cock blasted a stream of cum between their churning bodies.

Instantly Randy pulled away and stared at Thomas's pleading eyes. "Good, that's how I wanted you – drained. Makes your ass tighter ... harder to take my dick up it." He spat on the palm of his hand, then on his dick and stroked it wet. He twisted Thomas around, pushed him face-first against the wall and looked down at his bare ass. "Oh shit," he growled, slapping the flexing mounds with the back of his hand. "I love that fucking ass ... I fucking love it, boy."

"Aaagh!" Thomas howled as he felt the massive shaft plunge into him. Desperately he reached up and grabbed the struts jutting from the roof above him. He gripped them hard and clenched his jaw as he felt the gypsy's massive shaft piston in his ass. Somewhere there was pain, he knew that and ignored it, savoring instead the infinite pleasure of submitting his ass and his body to the savage impulses of this incredible man.

Randy had regressed to his caveman roots but even so he instinctively used his legendary fucking technique, variations of brute force interposed with moments of soothing gentleness where his cock reverted from battering ram to tender massage tool. It drove Thomas wild as his body pressed against the wall and his face against the window.

The window. In the fog of trauma and ecstasy Thomas became aware of the window and stared through it to a small room with a mirror on the opposite wall. And in the mirror he saw his own anguished face and, behind it, the barbarian face of the man pounding his ass. The sight of the handsome young gymnast getting hammered by the dark gypsy was hugely erotic.

Randy saw it too, and he was equally elated but for a different reason. He knew that this room at the back of the house was the small guest room in the rear of Mark's ground-floor apartment. So in his convoluted reasoning, the mirror image brought his sexual dominance right into Mark's apartment where, on the other side of the wall, the cop was no doubt slamming the surfer's ass.

The gypsy had taken the sexual contest into the cop's territory, proving his supremacy. Or so he thought. But what Randy couldn't know was that, at that moment, Mark was cradling Jamie in his arms in a sublime affirmation of love between man and boy – a stark contrast to Randy's caveman fuck.

Randy was getting close to his climax but wanted more. Thomas howled as Randy yanked his cock free and spun him round to face him. He pushed the boy's hands up to the struts he had been holding and growled, "Hang on tight, boy. This is it."

Thomas grasped the struts firmly in time to feel his legs lifted off the ground and thrown over Randy's shoulders. Randy clamped his hands round the boy's hips, giving him total control as the gymnast hung from the roof, doubled over, his vulnerable ass level with the cock pointing straight at it. "Never done it like this, eh?" Randy panted. "Well here it comes..."

He pulled his captive's hips forward so his ass slid once again onto his cock. Thomas felt helpless, totally in the man's power as he hung there staring into the blue eyes that pierced him like lasers while the iron shaft pierced his ass. It was, by any standards a spectacular sight – the young gymnast at the gypsy's mercy, his athletic body flexing and straining as he clung to the roof struts, his ass impaled on the gypsy's pile-driving rod.

Randy's face and body gleamed with sweat as he manhandled the boy and drove his rod again and again deep in his ass. Thomas was nearing the limit of his endurance – and Randy knew it. "Sir," the boy groaned dazedly, "I'm gonna cum, sir. I have to."

"Not `til I tell you, boy." Randy increased the speed and force of his cock until his body tensed and he yelled, "Fuck ... fuck ... yeah ... here it comes, boy. Aaaagh!!" Their orgasms were simultaneous and massive as Randy poured his sperm into the boy's ass and the gymnast blasted jizz with such force it slammed onto his own face and heaving chest.

His strength totally drained, Thomas's hands slid off the struts and he was caught by Randy, his exhausted body draped over his outstretched arms. He lowered the boy's feet to the ground but his legs were unsteady and he slumped against Randy's bare, sweat-soaked chest, sobbing, "Thank you, sir. I love you, sir. I need you ... please sir." Randy put his hand behind the boy's head and pulled him into a long, ferocious kiss.

When they separated he held Thomas at arm's length and said, "Now listen Tommy, you know the set-up here. From now on you're Pablo's boy. So, as he's my boy, you're one step away from me, and I'll be doing what I just did to you whenever I feel like it. And anyway, Zack tells me he hasn't finished with you yet and later this afternoon he's taking you back to his house with Darius. Zack's a real hot guy, and he'll give you what you need. You want that, don't you?"

"Yes, sir, I do. Very much. But, sir, it's you that I really ..."

"Hey, enough of that. I'm always here and, like all the boys, you can come to me or Bob if you got problems. Now get dressed and we'll go back to the guys. I'm fucking starved."

When the two couples returned to the table they received quite different receptions. As Randy and Thomas reappeared from behind the house the noise level dropped momentarily but quickly rose again as they took their places, Randy next to Bob, and Thomas between Pablo and Darius. Randy grinned at Bob with the misplace pride of a cat depositing the carcass of dead prey on his master's doorstep, expecting praise but greeted with distaste.

Bob gave him one of his blank stares that always meant disapproval. But Randy failed to understand that Bob took a dim view of Randy's reversion to caveman, with a new young arrival to the house and in the middle of a mealtime gathering. And all to satisfy his lust and flex his sexual muscles in competition with Mark. Apart from any other consideration, Bob thought, it was just plain bad manners.

Most of the others to some degree shared Bob's feelings, though they would never dare to criticize the boss for the simple act of fucking a boy. Randy was Randy and did what he liked.

By contrast, when Mark and Jamie came out of the house, with Mark's arm round his boy's shoulder, both bathed in the afterglow of making love, there was a burst of applause. They had all seen the cop's fraught expression when he came home from work, knew that it resulted from a tough day at work and that only Jamie could sooth him by absorbing his master's pain. It was a true expression of master/boy love and mutual support which was, after all, the bedrock of the tribe's existence.

These nuanced differences in the group's reactions were lost on Randy who was still like the cat cleaning his whiskers after a triumphant kill. Bob was fortunately saved from comment by the sudden arrival of the long-delayed couple, Grady and Mario.

They were greeted with noisy enthusiasm that included bawdy wisecracks, like Jason's, "So, the happy couple is finally out of bed. Must feel weird to be vertical instead of horizontal for once, eh guys? How long's that gonna last?"

Grady and Mario good-naturedly joined in the raucous laughter as they approached the table. Grady's natural effervescence emanated these days not only from his merry love of life but from the love of another man, the beautiful Italian Mario.

Signaling for quiet Grady spoke over the din. "Guys, guys, Mario and I make no excuses for being in love and making love ... a whole lot." More cheers and whistles that Grady tried to quell. "But ... but ... listen up guys, we do apologize profusely for being late to this gathering of beautiful friends. We are honored to be included and our late arrival is inexcusable."

"You're excused," shouted Bob and cheers of agreement erupted.

But there was one guy not cheering ... Danny's jaw had sagged so far down in amazement he couldn't make a sound. He and Brandon were coming from the kitchen with more warm quiches that Danny had held back for late arrivals.

When he recovered the power of speech Danny stammered to Brandon. "I know that guy. Is it really him? It can't be. I used to see his picture all over the place in those underwear ads, looking totally hot in those black briefs, so damn hot I jerked off all over the picture. Shit, I might bust another load just standing here."

Then he finally put two and two together. "Of course now I remember you mentioned him before but I was so busy it didn't register. And I've seen his picture in a magazine looking even more awesome in a loincloth – he's gonna be the new Tarzan. Can't wait for that movie to come out – if ever I can get in to see it.

"You'll get in all right, dude, you'll go to the premiere. Like I told you, Grady's a pal – part of our crowd. Eddie and me used to drive him to and from the studio down at Warners. He hid on the floor of the truck and we were dressed as pool boys to fool the paparazzi. Once, Grady invited me to the studio to watch him film a fight scene ... man that was hot ... and then they needed a guy in a wheelchair for a little scene and ... they actually put me in the movie."

Their eager gossip was interrupted by a chant from the table. "Chefs, chefs, chefs ..." The twins came out of the kitchen and said, "Come on Danny ... it's our curtain call." Brandon took the tray and wheeled it out to the table. Danny stood between the twins, in their identical white outfits and chefs hats perched jauntily on their heads as they walked forward and received a standing ovation.

"Guys," Bob said, "you've outdone yourselves this time and if Danny's quiche was anything to go by, he's a terrific addition to the kitchen. In fact, now everyone's here, on behalf of the whole clan I want to welcome our two newcomers, Thomas and Danny. It's not often we have new guys in the tribe and I have a feeling these two, in their own different ways, will bring a new level of excitement around here."

Silencing more raucous cheers Bob continued, "Grady, Mario, you've already just met Thomas, but let me introduce Danny to you, our new pastry chef." They stood up and smiled warmly. Mario, the more formal of the two, shook Danny's hand and said, "Buongiorno, Danny, che bel ragazzo. Benvenuto a Paradiso."

"Pleased to meet you, Mario," Danny said shyly. Then he turned his attention to Grady, a homoerotic icon standing so close to him, with his strong, classically beautiful features and sculpted torso under his loose tank. Danny's legs went weak as the man of his wet dreams smiled with his sparking green eyes. "Mario says it's paradise `cos he's in love, and you'll soon find out he's right, Danny, cute guy like you. Come here and get a Grady hug."

In a daze Danny felt himself squeezed in the gorgeous man's strong arms and felt his warm breath as his lips kissed his cheek. His body tensed and he thought he would faint ... but something worse happened. His heart beat like a drum, he held his breath ... and creamed his shorts. His cock erupted under his apron and cum ran down his legs.

His face turned scarlet, he gazed in horror at Grady and gasped, "No ..." He turned and raced back to the kitchen where he grabbed a cloth and scrubbed frantically at his legs, then tried to wipe the stain off his shorts, moaning, "Fuck, fuck, fuck...".

Outside, Brandon wheeled his chair round ready to rush to his friend's aid, but Grady restrained him and said, "No, Brandon, let me take care of this."

Danny gasped when the kitchen door opened and Grady came in. "Sir," Danny blurted, "I'm sorry, sir, I made a fool of myself and embarrassed you. It's just that ... "

"Hey, hey, Danny, didn't anyone tell you the house rule that you never have to apologize for busting a load because you like a guy. Er, it was because of me, wasn't it?"

"Of course, sir."

Grady grinned, "Just checking. And far from being embarrassed, I was honored. Hey, sit here with me and I'll tell you something." Grady saw a half empty bottle of wine, poured two glasses and they sat together at the butcher block table in the middle of the room.

"You may not know this, Danny, but most actors are insecure, always looking for approval from others. Well I sure got your approval out there. The trouble is, trying to find someone who'll tell you the truth – so many guys telling you how great you are just to get on the good side of you, or into your pants. Well your reaction was as honest as they come and I thank you for that.

"I ... I guess I was nervous, sir, because you're this big movie star and ..."

"Not yet I'm not. Maybe I will be soon but all that stuff's out there in the world. Around here I'm just one of the guys and that's what I love about it."

Danny managed a smile. "I don't think you'll ever be just one of the guys, sir, wherever you are."

Grady laughed, "That's the spirit, kiddo. Listen, I understand that you're a buddy of Brandon's. Well Brandon and me are best buddies, so maybe you and I can be too. Matter of fact I'm sure of it." He clinked his glass against Danny's.

"And now that I've got you here, I have a question. They tell me you're a great pastry chef and I need your help with something. See I love desserts but I'm supposed to stay away from sugar and fat – gotta keep my body in trim as I spend most of my time before the cameras in only a loin cloth. Is there such a thing as a low-fat, low-sugar dessert that doesn't taste like wet cardboard?"

Danny perked up and his eyes sparkled. "Oh sure, sir. I used to make a lot of those – low fat, no fat, all kinds. They're really great, you'd love `em."

"OK, then let's make a little side deal here. Why don't you make one just for me and maybe one for Mario, and bring them to us one evening when we're alone. Could you do that?"

"Absolutely, sir. I know just the one I'll make."

"It's a deal, then. Bring one for yourself too. We'll open a bottle of brandy and, Mario will make his fine Italian espresso. Hm, dessert and coffee, one of my favorite treats." They clinked glasses again.

"And now we better get back to the guys. They're no doubt missing us out there and the rumors are flying." Grady chuckled. "One thing I've found out about rumors, kiddo. Never deny them. It's more fun that way. Come on, Danny, and sit with Mario and me."

Danny felt warm all over as he accompanied Grady back to the table.

Sitting close to Grady and Mario Danny could hear the conversation they struck up with Bob and Randy. Grady wanted advice from them, too ... not about dessert but about finance. "Here's the deal," Grady explained. "You know all about investments, Bob, it's your profession. Well, I'm starting to earn a whole bunch of money ... it's crazy what they're paying me ... and my agent says I gotta get me a business manager to help me start investing it. First thing I gotta do is buy a house, like right away."

He blushed lightly. "See, me and Mario are gonna live together so I wanna find something real nice for us, a house that has real good security – you know, gates, cameras, that kinda stuff `cos when the movie opens the paparazzi are gonna go wild and our privacy is real important. I love this neighborhood so a house near here would be ideal. Is that something you could help us with?"

Bob smiled at Grady. "Fuck you, buddy, you knew what I'd say, didn't you? You know I'd be happy to manage your business affairs. You have to have someone you can trust, plus we've got a whole office setup right here. As for the house, I've got a great realtor and Randy and I would be happy to help with the search."

"Hell," said Randy, "why look any farther than the house at the top of the hill here? I've been up there and checked it out. It's not cheap ... it's been on the market for a while `cos they priced it too high, but it's a great place – not too big but really fucking gorgeous. Needs a bigger garage and a few other improvements but me and the guys could take care of that.

"As for security, no problem at all. It's all alone on a big lot with its own long driveway and it sits on the edge of the cliff up there like a fortress. Mark could help you with the security setup, he knows all that stuff. Needs a lot of landscaping but of course Mario would take care of that."

"Hmm," Bob mused, "a house like that you'd need staff, you being so busy. But I reckon if you had a live-in person to cook for you and keep the place clean you wouldn't need much else."

"It'd have to be someone we got along with real well and can trust," Mario said. "Ideally a young guy who's discreet, loyal and a great cook. Someone who really likes us both. You got any ideas, Bob?"

A smile spread over Bob's face. "As a matter of fact ..."

The rest of meal passed peacefully with no more dramas, unless you count the deep-dish apple pie that Danny presented with a flourish and that had them all drooling and reaching for superlatives. They were all having such a good time that everyone hung around afterwards drinking wine and brandy – a perfect Saturday afternoon as Bob later said to Randy.

The only stir came when Zack got up and announced that he and Darius were going home and, with Pablo's consent, they were taking Thomas with them. Zack grinned at Randy. "Hey, stud, why don't you and Pablo drop by in an hour or so to see how we're getting on? You might be able to help us out."

That was another reason for everyone else to hang around. They all wanted to know what would happen to the handsome young gymnast who now followed them across the street.

As it happened, Thomas was as mystified as anyone. A short time later he was in Zack's basement, shirtless in his black leather pants, his arms stretched up in a V, wrists tied to ropes hanging from a beam. That much he had expected – and hoped for.

He had also expected to be confronted by Zack and Darius. What he hadn't expected was that Darius would be facing him a few feet away, identically dressed and identically bound to ropes above him, with a stiff ten-inch bulge running down his leg under the leather pants.

Zack was sprawled in a chair drinking beer with a satisfied smile, surveying the scene of his two captive boys. He had hung a whip round the neck of one of them – his own boy Darius.

Thomas, the shirtless, bound gymnast, frowned in confusion. What the hell was going on?

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 295

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

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