A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 313 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER: Zack and Pete take their boys on a bike run to the desert, where rookie Brandon gets initiated' into the gang' by his master Pete. Leather-boys Darius and Brandon put on a wild sexual show in the desert leather bar. And macho muscle-stud Zack admits his secret desire to be dominated by Pete. "In the end the shirtless leather-master was on his knees, a bound, broken alpha-male sobbing in abject humiliation."

Chapter 312 – "ZACK'S `BIKER GANG' IN THE DESERT"

At a small dinner party Bob and Randy were giving for Zack, Darius and Pablo, the hot black leatherman Zack had broken an intriguing piece of news of a trip he was planning.

"I haven't been spending much time with Ranger Pete, so me and him thought it would be a neat idea to take our boys Darius and Brandon on a bike run out to the desert next weekend. We'll take the three Harleys and Pete says Brandon is dying to get out on that motor-trike of his. Amazing how he mounts his wheelchair on it and rides as fast and as cocksure as all of us.

"We're gonna stay in that little house Hassan has out in the desert, and we'll probably drop in on that leather bar near Palm Springs where Eddie used to work and where Darius was such a hit when we acted out a hard-core scene in the back room last time we went. Dunno what we'll get up to this time but I sure can't wait to find out."

Everyone's imagination took off, especially in the young houseboy Tommy, who had helped the twins, Kyle and Kevin cook and serve the meal. But his imagination could hardy top the events of the wild, sex-heavy day he had just lived through. It had been the kind of day that would populate his dreams for weeks to come as it did later that night when he ended up sleeping between the beautiful twin brothers, Kyle and Kevin.

He dreamed of Doctor Steve and his gypsy brother Randy spit-roasting him. Of Lloyd and the gym-jocks taking turns at his ass in the basement gym. Of being tied up and force fucked by an out-of-control jock and of his hero Randy busting the door down and demolishing the thug. And he dreamed of working in the kitchen with the beautiful identical twins and finally of his double penetration by them

And not far away, in a bungalow up the hill, another boy was dreaming. Brandon was asleep with his head on Ranger Pete's chest dreaming of motorbikes, of the desert, of the leathermen Zack and Darius. He dreamed of the leather bar Darius had described to him and of Hassan's small house they would share. But most of all he dreamed of Pete and of riding his bike proudly alongside him on the highway to the desert. He dreamed of being one of the guys ... one of the guys ... just like the others.

The only difference between the two boys was this. While Thomas was dreaming of past pleasures, Brandon's dreams of adventure were about to come true.

"Dude, that looks so cool!" That was the wide-eyed, impish young Eddie a few days later who was looking at his best buddy Brandon sitting on his motorbike.

Actually motorcycle trike would be a more accurate name. Brandon had been in a wheelchair since childhood but prided himself on his independence and ability to do whatever other guys did – including riding his own motorcycle. It was a modified BMW motorcycle, a three-wheeler with a platform and a ramp where Brandon could wheel himself up, lock the wheels in place and fold up the ramp behind him.

His master Pete had bought it for him some time ago and when they went out on bike runs Brandon proudly took his place beside Pete and the others – just one of the guys. Eddie was used to seeing Brandon on the bike but what turned him on now was his outfit. Pete and his boy would be accompanying the leather-boss Zack and his leatherboy Darius, so Brandon wanted to look the part.

He was in leather pants and boots and a black leather vest flapping open over his bare, muscular torso. The only part of Brandon that didn't work were his legs. The rest functioned just fine and, after years of wheeling himself, he had developed strong arms and a well-defined upper body. His cycle helmet was the skull cap half-helmet kind that Eddie dubbed "totally badass butch, dude."

A different touch was Brandon's black rimmed glasses that he always wore, even in full leather, and even sometimes having sex, as he always wanted to get a sharp view of his master Pete, the handsome Forest Ranger, fucking him.

Pete now pulled up beside him astride a big Harley and Eddie ogled him too, dressed in black jeans, boots and, like Brandon, shirtless in a leather vest over the sculpted muscles of his pecs and ripped abs. Eddie had helped Brandon pack his copious saddle bags with his gear and supplies for the trip and Pete declared that they were ready for the off.

Roaring up the hill came Zack and his boy Darius on twin Harleys. Zack, a hugely impressive black man, a macho alpha stud, was Randy's co-manager on the construction site, the only man Randy looked on as his equal in command. He was tall and formidable with his shaved head, rugged, square-jawed black features and hard-muscled ebony torso. As always he was shirtless in black leather pants and boots.

His boy Darius usually copied him in everything, down to the clothes he wore, except that today Darius was wearing a black tank-top over his powerful chest. There was usually a smile on his handsome face as if he never really took anything too seriously. He was the joker of the pack and also fancied himself as the tribe's historian, always hungry for gossip and constantly urging the boys to "spill the beans, dude" on current events in the tribe, "exaggerations accepted."

Darius was Pablo's lover, and the only one of the boys who took no shit from the opinionated son of boss Randy. The other boys looked up to him as one of the most senior boys. Brandon idolized him and Darius was fiercely protective of the boy he admired so much.

As he arrived Darius grinned at Brandon and echoed Eddie. "Cool, dude, you look great. That's one mean machine you got there, could outrace all of us. But stick with me, kiddo, `cos these guys look like they're more into each other.

Only Darius would have dared to make a comment like that, "these guys" referring to Zack and Pete who were indeed looking at each other hungrily with, as Darius liked to imagine, swelling cocks in their pants.

So that was the hot-looking quartet, ready for their desert adventure. Eddie leaned over and hugged Brandon with a "Stay safe, dude" and watched as the two men and their boys revved their engines and roared off down the hill.

Out on the highway heading east Zack and Pete naturally took the lead, side by side, with Darius and Brandon together behind them. They were all struck again by the exhilaration and sense of freedom that came from speeding through the hot air that blasted their bare chests.

As the outer cities, warehouses and strip malls gave way to open spaces their thoughts turned to the approaching desert and to the stories they had heard of the wild adventures of Randy, Mark and some of the other guys in the unforgiving wilderness. The excitement of revisiting the desert expanses was always tinged with apprehension of what was in store.

After a while Pete dropped back to ride beside Brandon, and Darius took his place up front next to Zack. Brandon had never been happier than he was now, riding beside the man he worshipped, his master, his lover, proud to show him that he had no limitations and was worthy of being the boy of the handsome Forest Ranger.

He grinned over at Pete who was moved by the look of sheer joy on his boy's face beneath his `badass' skull cap helmet as he blinked behind his black framed glasses. A wave of affection swept over Pete, a common occurrence whenever he looked at his brave, sexy boy getting the most out of what used to be a lonely life. And, as always, the love that seized him translated into an aching need to do something special for him.

So after a few miles Pete moved up beside Zack again and they had a short, shouted conversation. Zack grinned and pointed to a sign for a turn-off coming up ahead. By now the freeway was going through a scrubland of scattered trees just before the sagebrush gave up the fight and yielded to the windswept sands of the desert.

Zack raised his arm and indicated to the boys behind him that they were about to exit the freeway. They pulled onto the off ramp and slowed down as they found themselves on one of those minor backroads whose very existence seemed a puzzle as it led only deeper into the scrub before petering out entirely at the mouth of a canyon leading into the hills beyond.

A struggling stream was possibly the original reason for the road – a long abandoned settlement maybe, before the occupants gave up the hardscrabble life and moved into the city. And now the stream gave respite to the small group of bikers covered with the dust of the highway. They dismounted and Brandon rolled backwards off his trike.

"I needed to take a piss," said Zack, unzipping his pants, "and I thought we should all take a breather as we're about halfway there. Maybe a beer – but only one, OK?" He grinned. "Riding drunk we might get pulled over by a cop and you know what that leads to. We'd have to get out of a traffic ticket by fucking him or something. Especially if he looks like our cop Mark."

Zack had given Pete his opening. "Talking of Mark," Pete said, "I heard a rumor that whenever he goes on a trip with Jamie he always stops halfway `cos the cop gets so horny riding with his surfer boy beside him in the truck. Seems they pull off the road in a place like this and Mark throws Jamie on the flatbed of the truck and fucks the shit out of him. Then he zips up his pants, they get back in the truck and they're on their way. Do you think that's true?"

"Damn right it is," said Darius, the source of all knowledge about sex in the tribe. "I got the story out of Jamie, all the juicy details. Jamie loves it ... looks forward to it."

"Hmm, well I understand how Mark feels," Pete said, after having that Harley throbbing between my legs for the last hour. Damn, if there was a flatbed of a truck here I would damn well ..."

His words trailed off but left no doubt as to where his thoughts, and desires, were running. Brandon had listened to these exchanges in silence with rising fascination and a rising dick.

Zack was well aware of Pete's plan, which was why he had pulled off the road in the first place, and he played his role in the little drama well. "Huh," he huffed, "don't know what your problem is, man. We may not have a flatbed truck but we've got the next best thing. Here, we've even got this." He pulled a blanket out of his saddlebag and spread it over the flatbed of Brandon's trike, the platform where the wheelchair usually locked into place."

"You've thought of everything, buddy. `Course, Mark always has a boy willing to offer his ass."

Brandon spoke up for the first time. "So do you, sir."

Eagerly he wheeled himself behind the trike, pulled himself out of his wheelchair and slid onto the blanket on the platform. The three men looked down at him in awe as he lay back on the platform propped up on his elbows. His leather vest flapped back to frame his well-built chest and ripped abs, his leather-clad legs hanging over the edge of the flatbed. He had not removed his helmet and he now blinked up at them behind his glasses.

He presented an intriguing picture of a bold young leatherboy undaunted by his handicap. His handsome young face, mischievous grin and well-formed upper body were enough to turn any man on. The three men gazed down at him with a mixture of admiration, lust and amusement. And for Pete it was pure love. Once again he felt a wave of intense affection sweep over him and a desire to fulfill his boy's fantasy. And, of course, he knew exactly what that was.

Pete put on a serious expression as he looked down at his boy. "Guys, I've also heard that the first time any guy rides out to the desert he's kind of a virgin until he's been initiated into the ways of the wilderness. Now you two guys and I have been out here before, but what we have here is a new recruit, a novice. Am I right in thinking that before we enter the real desert a rookie has to go through an initiation of some kind?"

"Absolutely," Darius shook his head solemnly. "The desert can be real tough. A guy's gotta show he can take it."

Zack stroked his square jaw. "He's right. That's why I pulled off the highway. Afraid we can't go any further with an uninitiated rookie. Just can't be done. Question is who's gonna do the honors?"

Pete sighed deeply. "Guess that has to be me." He unzipped his jeans and pulled out his long, hard dick.

By now Brandon was squirming on his bike's platform. He knew the guys were playing with him but they did it so well he half believed he had to go through an initiation and that Pete was going to perform it. He loved getting fucked by the handsome Ranger, but to get `initiated' in front of leather-boss Zack and his boy added another sexy layer to it.

Pete spat in the palm of his hand and stroked his cock as he looked down at his newly minted leatherboy in his black helmet, vest, pants and boots. "You ready to prove yourself worthy of this biker gang, boy?" Pete said sternly.

"Yes, sir. Definitely, sir. I can take it."

"No kidding," muttered Darius under his breath ginning at Zack. "Like he already takes it from the Ranger twice a day."

Pete leaned down, unzipped his boy's pants and pulled them down round his ankles. He raised the legs in the air, pushed his head and shoulders between them and under the pants that stretched between Brandon's ankles so they rested on the back of Pete's neck. He lubed the boy's ass with his wet fingers then leaned further forward and braced his hands on the blanket beside Brandon's eager face, his eyes blinking fast behind his glasses.

The tip of his wet cock was resting between the boy's ass cheeks as Pete said, "OK, guys, what should I do to our young rookie here? What's the initiation fee?"

"Fuck him," Zack growled, and Darius took up the chant. "Fuck him ... fuck him ... fuck him."

Brandon stretched his arms up above his head and grabbed the bolts that normally attached to the wheels of his chair. "I'm ready, sir," he said, faking fear. "Aaagh," he yelled as Pete drove his cock into his ass more forcefully than usual, then pulled back and forced it in even deeper.

Brandon played the rookie leatherboy to the hilt, fantasizing about being inducted into the leather gang by the rugged Ranger with the leather vest open over his muscular torso. Pete could read his boy's mind and knew he wanted it rough. So that's what he got.

Brandon clutched the bolts above him and gritted his teeth as his ass got jackhammered. Pete curled his fingers round Brandon's biceps and pinned them to the platform floor as his cock pistoned inside him. The two spectators were impressed ... and turned on. They stroked the bulge in their pants, then mechanically pulled out their cocks and stroked as they watched.

Darius focused on his young friend Brandon, always looking out for his safety, though it was obvious that the boy was enjoying every minute. And Zack developed a newfound admiration for Pete. He had never seen him fuck his boy before and this was a major butt buster, a master giving his boy a tough workout, his muscled body flexing, his chiseled features tense with effort. But all the time Zack knew that Pete was careful to respect his boy's limits.

Zack's respect and admiration for the macho Ranger soon turned into raw lust. Pete was Zack's kind of guy, his equal ... a guy he was determined to get to know better on this trip.

And so the power fuck continued beneath them. It was supposed to be an initiation ordeal, a hazing, a trial of strength, and at first Brandon's grimacing features made it look like the real thing. But after long minutes of seriously hard fucking the pace became slower, gentler, and neither master nor boy could keep up the pretense. Pete smiled and said, "God, I love you, boy. Your ass feels so good."

Zack and Darius grinned at each other as they saw the `initiation' morph into a love-fest between master and boy. Pete released his boy's arms and Brandon reached up and touched his master's solid pecs, then ran his hands over his whole chest and his eight-pack abs, finally resting them on his narrow hips as they rose and fell over his ass.

"What do you want from me, boy?" Pete asked gently.

"Sir, my cock is ready to burst – I don't think I can hold back much longer. I would like to feel your cum inside me, sir."

"Let me see you jack off, kiddo. Touch your cock and cum all over that hot body."

Brandon grinned and took hold of his own cock ... and that was enough. Pete fucked faster, harder until, "Here it comes, kiddo. Do it now, boy. Now!"

"Yes sir, thank you sir ... aaagh!" Brandon saw the Ranger's sinewy body jerk, his head fly back, and the feeling of warm, creamy liquid flowing deep inside him made Brandon shoot multiple loads of cum all the way up his own chest and onto his neck and chin. "Yeah," Pete shouted in triumph, "you're my boy alright, my hot stud leatherboy and I love you kiddo."

Their howls were drowned out by cheers and laughter from the two awed spectators and Zack shouted, "What d'ya think, Darius, you think the new recruit passed the test?"

"Hell yes," Darius laughed. "He obviously loves dick and that's good enough for me. I'd say he's one of us."

With sparkling eyes Brandon laughed, "It sure was worth the price of admission. Do I get a diploma or something?"

"Kind of," Zack grinned. "Hey, back off Ranger so we can give your boy his prize." Pete pulled his cock out and stood beside the leather-master and his boy. Brandon stared up at the three men in leather towering over him and he had a good idea what his `diploma' would consist of.

Zack and Darius were pounding their huge dicks now and Brandon watched their bodies heave, heard them howl ... and saw two streams of cum blast from their cock, instants before hot jizz slammed down on his chest and face. He laughed uncontrollably as semen showered down on him, soaking his body, his face, even his helmet, and his vision blurred as his glasses were streaked with the leathermen's cum.

Pete leaned down and kissed him, but as he straightened up the last of Zack's juice splashed full in his face. With an involuntary, reflexive reaction the startled Ranger glared at Zack who said, "Sorry, man. Couldn't be helped. But you'll have your chance to get your own back later. And I'll look forward to that."

Their eyes met, man to man, and Pete grinned. "Me too, stud. I can't wait."

Brandon pulled up his pants and buckled up. Pete pulled him up off the flatbed and lifted him into his wheelchair. He went to wipe the semen off his chest and face but Brandon pushed him away. "No, sir," he grinned. "I earned this jizz fair and square and I intend to show it off."

He pulled out a cloth and cleaned off his glasses, then proudly he wheeled himself up the ramp onto the platform where only minutes before he was lying under a rain of sperm. Darius looked at the boy, his chest, his leather vest and his badass skull-cap helmet running with cum, and said, "You look so damn hot, dude. You wait `til we get there ... you're mine."

"Don't be so sure, leatherboy. I'm a full member of the gang now ... and I've got a diploma to prove it." With his forefinger he scooped cum off his chest, put his finger in his mouth and swallowed, looking at Darius with a wicked smile. Then he gunned his bike and roared away toward the highway."

Darius grinned at Zack and Pete and chuckled, "Son of a bitch."

The rest of the ride was through open desert until they pulled off the highway onto Route 111 and drove through Palm Springs to the far less ritzy warehouse district of Cathedral City. By general agreement they were all parched and Zack was leading them to the siren call of beer at the same leather bar he had visited with Randy.

They dismounted in the small carpark alongside all the other bikes, and made an impressive group as they pushed in through the leather flap at the door – the muscular black leather master and his swaggering boy, the tall, rugged Ranger with his boy rolling in proudly beside him.

"Zack, my man!" The enthusiastic greeting came from behind the bar. It was the owner, Mike, an older, still handsome, bearded man who in the past had had visits from Randy and Mark, and later Randy had brought Bob and then Zack.

Now Zack strode to the bar, leaned over and hugged him. "Great to see you again Mike, you old bear. How's it hangin', big guy?"

Mike smiled broadly. "Man, you are a sight for these tired old eyes. How's that Randy doin', and his partner Bob and that gorgeous cop Mark? Hell, whenever you guys show up my business goes through the roof." He laughed, "I think there must be some secret Tom Of Finland breeding farm where all you guys come from. And every time you drop in you've got a new hunk with you as smokin' hot as the rest of you."

He looked over Zack's shoulder. "And who you brought for me this time? Your boy Darius I remember of course. Who could forget that bondage scene you played out in the back room? The guys still talk about that, jack off to the memory too, I bet. Talk about `black is beautiful'." He walked round from behind the bar. "Here, kid, give an old guy a thrill and let me get a feel of that hot young body of yours."

Darius folded his arms round Mike in an affectionate hug. "You know Mike, if ever Zack kicks me out I'd come running straight out here and live with you."

"Yeah, you only say that `coz of the free beer. Besides, Zack would be a tough act to follow. Hey," he said to the other bartender, "drinks on the house for these guys." Then he turned his attention to Pete and surveyed his strong, sculpted features and muscular physique under his open leather vest. "Shit, you guys don't quit do ya'?"

Zack grinned, "This here is my buddy Pete, another member of our tribe. Better watch yourself, Mike, `coz Pete's a Forest Ranger."

Mike shook Pete's hand warmly. "Welcome, Pete. Shit, I got a hard-on just shaking your hand. Forest Ranger, eh? You should get to know Fred over there. He's a Ranger at Joshua Tree National Park a few miles out in the desert."

"Sure thing, Mike, but first I want you to meet someone I'm real proud of ... my boy Brandon." Brandon wheeled himself up and Mike gave him another warm smile. "Welcome to our humble home, Brandon, and let me shake your hand. Any boy chosen by this stud here must be real special."

"He is," Pete said proudly as Brandon, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses, shook Mike's hand. "Sir, I'm a best friend to Eddie, too. He first brought me into the tribe, and he said to give you a hug from him."

Mike laughed, bent down and hugged him in his chair. "God, I miss that kid. Best bar-back I ever had. Everyone here loved him until he fell in lust with Darius and upped and followed him to L.A. Pity, he used to give the best blowjobs in town, too."

"Still does, sir," Brandon laughed, "and he taught all us boys the fine art of sucking dick too."

"The hell he did," Mike chuckled. "How's the little punk doing?"

"Just great sir, happy as a pig in shit. He's the boy of a big gorgeous hunk of a Marine Captain, name of Hassan."

"Damn, he must love that. And I bet a Marine is just the guy to stop him chattering non-stop."

"Oh no, sir. Even Hassan can't do that. Eddie still rattles on like a machine gun." Mike roared with laughter and Brandon was pleased that he made no mention of his wheelchair. But that notion faded a bit when Mike said, "Hey, where are those fucking beers, barkeep? These thirsty guys have just ridden out from the city with three bikes throbbing between their legs."

"Four, sir," Brandon said, a hint of mischief in his eyes." Mike gave a questioning look. "I didn't ride behind Pete, sir. I came on my own bike."

Mike frowned, "You did?" Then he blushed. "Oh shit, has dumb old Mike gone and put his hoof in his big fat mouth again? Sorry, kid, I ..."

"Oh don't worry, sir, I get that kinda stuff all the time. Here, you wanna see? It's right outside."

It was the perfect icebreaker. The large beer-bust crowd in the bar had held back rather intimidated as they gazed in awe at the new arrivals. But now they pushed toward the door and followed Brandon out to the parking lot. Zack grinned at Pete as Brandon put on a show. He wheeled himself up to his three-wheeler, pushed a button to lower the ramp, wheeled himself up it and locked the wheels in place. He put on his helmet and raised the ramp behind him.

He revved the engine and drove proudly round the parking lot as Mike and the rest of the crowd looked on wide-eyed. "Impressive, eh Mike?" Darius said. "And he rides right along with us ... one of the guys. He's the most independent young guy I know and I'm crazy about him."

"I bet," Mike said. "I want a word with that boy. Maybe he can do something for me. I'll clear it with Pete first, of course."

Brandon was the man of the hour as the whole crowd cheered him on, then gathered round his bike to check it out.

Back inside, the atmosphere became much looser now the ice was broken. Pete went over to meet the Desert Ranger Fred, a quiet, bearded man in glasses, and they were soon engrossed in conversation about the different challenges for a Ranger in the forest versus the desert.

Many of the bar patrons had already met Zack and Darius on their previous visit and they now crowded round them and Brandon. As the beer flowed so the guys grew bolder and soon not many topics were off limits. "So,' one of them said, "are you guys gonna give us a show like you did last time?"

"We weren't planning on it," Zack laughed. "We already got our rocks off on the way here, but ... hell, you never know."

One of the younger guys, about Brandon's age, said to him, "Must be great for you, dude, getting to watch these guys have sex whenever you want."

It was another mild faux pas that Brandon took in stride, and this time it was challenged by Darius, with a broad smile. "Watch? Hell, this guy here is a doer, not a watcher. He's a real sex fiend, probably has more sex than the rest of us with his buddies and with Pete ... not that there's anything wrong with that," Darius grinned playfully at Brandon.

The young questioner frowned, "Yeah, but ... I mean, how do you ...er ... like, what do you ...?" He blushed and stammered, "Sorry dude, I shouldn't be asking you stuff like that?"

"No, dude, you can ask what you like, I'm way past being embarrassed talking about stuff like that. See, I make it a rule in my life to do whatever other guys do. Like riding a motorcycle. When it comes to sex I do most everything. Course it's not too easy to describe ... kinda gets lost in translation."

"Easier to do it than describe it," Darius laughed. "Like I said, Brandon here is a doer, not a watcher or a talker."

"Does that mean you're gonna show us?" the young guy said eagerly, and a shudder of excitement went round the crowd."

"Damn, we walked straight into that one, didn't we?" Darius grinned. "Guess y'all still have that back room here, eh?" He looked excitedly at Zack. "What d'ya think, sir? Would you let us?"

"Sure, why not?" Zack grinned, knowing how much Darius loved to put on a show for an audience. "Provided it's OK with Brandon and Pete."

Brandon turned his chair round and the crowd parted to let him wheel over to Pete. They had a brief chat that ended with Pete smiling and ruffling his boy's hair. Brandon wheeled round and pumped his fist in the air. "It's a go, guys. Let the games begin."

A few minutes later Brandon was sitting shirtless in his wheelchair in the center of the back room under a red spotlight, still wearing his leather pants and boots but having shed his vest. As befits a back room it was all black but generously supplied with wall mirrors. The light came from ceiling spots in the middle of the room and the crowd of leathermen watched from the shadows round the edge.

Zack and Pete stood together keeping a keen watch on their boys, prepared to intervene if necessary, though that was unlikely. As the tension built in the hushed room Zack whispered to Pete, "Don't worry, buddy, they're both loving this. Darius is the ultimate showman but you know he'll take care of Brandon. He loves the boy."

Suddenly Darius emerged from the shadows, in black jeans and boots and his black tank top tight over his chest. He paced round Brandon, making sure his flawless body caught every spotlight as he moved. Some of the men were already stroking their bulges merely looking at the muscular leatherboy.

Seeing what they were doing Darius said loudly, "That's it gentlemen, start your engines!" Like a carnival barker he declaimed, "I guess you're all wondering how well my young friend here can perform ... or even if he can perform. So we are here to impress and amaze you. You ready to impress, boy?"

"Yes, sir," Brandon said smartly. Apparently they were putting on a master/boy show.

"OK," Darius continued. "Now, how many among you remember the cheeky but hot young bar-back, Eddie?" There was a chorus of cheers. "And how many of you were the lucky recipients of one of his spectacular blow jobs?" Even louder cheers. "Well, Eddie now lives with us and spends a lot of his time exercising his sexual skills on his master, a big muscle-god Marine."

There was a chorus of "aaahs", but Darius silenced the disappointed groans. "But never fear, gentlemen, Eddie's expertise lives on as he has passed it on to the boys of our tribe, including my good friend Brandon here. Allow us to demonstrate."

With the dramatic flair of a magician producing a rabbit from a hat Darius ripped open his jeans and let his massive ten-inch black cock flop out and swing like a pendulum, accompanied by gasps from the audience and the sound of zippers opening. Darius grabbed his cock in his fist and in a few strokes brought it to eye-popping size and rigidity. He faced Brandon who gasped in mock fear, eliciting murmurs of alarm in the group.

"Never fear, gentlemen, the boy will not be harmed. Remember, he is Eddie-trained and, like Eddie, he never met a cock he couldn't handle." Brandon, having the time of his life but faking fear, opened his mouth wide. Darius stood astride his lap, leaned forward and braced his hands on the back of the wheelchair. His long, thick pole moved slowly toward Brandon's face and when the head entered his mouth he paused. Nervous groans of "no!" came from the shadows.

"Behold," Darius said with a showman's flair and eased his cock inch by inch into Brandon's mouth and down his throat. Brandon had sucked Darius's pole before and he was used to Pete's big dick, but still he used every trick Eddie had taught him to swallow without gagging.

There was a stunned silence, except for the heavy breathing of men beating their meat as they watched Darius's hips pound faster and faster and tears start to flow from Brandon's eyes with the seemingly impossible feat of swallowing all ten inches of the monster black club.

As the massive shaft continued to piston in the boy's mouth some of the men, out of excitement and fears for Brandon's throat, were saying "Cum", a chant that was soon taken up by the whole group ... "cum, cum, cum ..." Ever the dramatic actor Darius tossed his head, his face grimacing, his body shuddering, his ten-inch rod pounding Brandon's face ... and then suddenly ... "Aaagh ..." He pulled his cock out and let it wave in front of the crowd, rigid as ever.

He raised Brandon's arm in triumph and cheers erupted. When they subsided Darius said, "Gentlemen, I know you wanted me to bust a load in my friend's mouth, and Brandon here was ready to drink my jizz, but I had something else in mind, something to demonstrate to you all my young friend's sexual versatility." Brandon glanced quickly over at Pete and his sparkling eyes reassured him that his boy was having the time of his life.

Silence descended again as Darius walked to the side of the room and came back into the spotlight carrying a blanket that he spread in the middle of the floor. With great ease Brandon slid gracefully from his chair and lay on his back on the blanket. Darius towered over him, idly stroking his stiff cock, and appealed to the crowd. "What should I do to him next, gentlemen?"

The repose was unanimous. "Fuck him ... fuck him ... fuck him..." In response Brandon unzipped his own pants and pushed them down over his ass. Darius bent down, pulled off Brandon's boots, yanked his pants down the rest of the way and tossed them aside, leaving Brandon butt naked staring up at him.

Darius kicked off his own boots and pulled off his jeans, then strutted magnificently round him buck naked, the ultimate young muscle-stud leatherboy. Again Brandon feigned nervousness staring up at Darius's massive club, his own cock standing straight up rigid as a flagpole. Finally Darius came to rest standing astride Brandon's chest, stroking his cock.

He looked into the shadows and again came the chant, "Fuck him ... fuck him ... fuck him ..."

"You want to see us boys fuck? OK, gentlemen, your wish is our command. Here goes ..." Darius dropped to his knees astride Brandon's chest ... then suddenly lowered his ass and sat down on Brandon's dry cock. "Aaaagh!" he yelled in genuine pain as Brandon's own long cock penetrated his ass in a dry fuck.

Darius threw his head back theatrically, grimacing in pain, his muscular arms waving in the air clutching at invisible supports in desperate attempts at release. His hips rose up, he slid almost all the way off Brandon's cock, then collapsed down on it again with another agonized shout that echoed round the room.

The crowd erupted in a clamor of disbelief as they saw the handsome black muscleboy impaled on his buddy's cock. The boys had lulled them into a belief that Brandon's wheelchair limitations condemned him to a life as a butt-boy, good only for sucking cock and getting butt-fucked. But here he was fucking the powerful leather stud in a dramatic dry fuck.

Darius played it to the hilt, grasping the sides of his head, wincing and groaning in pain. In truth, as the watching Zack well knew, Darius had taken a lot worse when Zack, in an especially savage mood, had tied him up and dry fucked him with his huge dick. But Zack had to admit, as he grinned at Pete, that the boys were putting on a hell of a show.

It was certainly turning the crowd on. There were multiple gasps as men beat their meat and blasted cum loads watching the black boy get his ass tortured, with Brandon yelling, "Yeah, sit on that cock, leatherboy. Take it all the way up that hot ass."

Darius upped the ante by leaning backward, bracing his hands on the floor behind him and raising up off his knees, his feet on the floor beside Brandon's face. Arching his body over him, his hips moving up and down, his ass was impaled on the stiff pole plunging inside him from below.

The naked black body gleamed under the spotlight, arms and shoulders rippling, his muscled thighs bulging, his upthrust six pack abs rippling under the strain as his ass rose up and down on his buddy's hard cock. It was a wild spectacle and the men broke into cheers, punctuated with howls as they shot load after load.

Eventually Darius resumed his former position on his knees, sitting heavily on Brandon's cock while Brandon reached up, grabbed Darius's tank and used it to pull him down repeatedly on his cock. Darius fought against it, rearing up as if to escape the rod inside him, but being pulled back again and again by Brandon tugging at his shirt.

In the final climax the shirt ripped and hung in shreds over Darius's heaving chest as he threw his head back and screamed melodramatically, "I give up, I can't take anymore. Cum inside me. Please, sir, I beg you. Cum inside my ass."

The crowd went wild, so wild they didn't notice Darius's quick grin at Brandon and his murmured, "Bring it home, kiddo." Brandon's head thrashed from side to side and he yelled, "You want my juice in your ass, boy? OK, here it comes. Yeah, fuck you, leatherboy. Aaagh."

Their bodies shuddered, Darius sat hard on Brandon's cock which exploded in his ass as Darius held his own huge cock and blasted a stream of jizz high in the air that slashed down on Brandon's chest and face.

Cheers echoed round the room and the boys laughed ecstatically. Darius rose up off Brandon's dick and Brandon propped himself up on his elbows, then pulled himself smoothly into his chair. Darius pumped his arms in the air in triumph and Brandon lifted the front wheels of his chair off the ground and did mad wheelies, whirling round and round like a dervish.

Zack grinned at Pete and said, "You gotta love `em, buddy." Pete smiled, "Absolutely the best."

"We should take that show on the road, kiddo. We'd make a fortune." Darius and Brandon were in Mike's office cleaning off and getting dressed before going out to meet their clamoring fans. The door opened and Mike came in with a beaming smile. "Guys, that was beautiful. Shit, I should have filmed it. Would have won an Oscar."

Then his face turned serious. "Brandon, you proved your point about being independent, free to do whatever the other guys do. And I'm gonna ask you a big favor. I have a young nephew, Brian. He's nineteen, about the same age as you, and he's in a wheelchair. But the similarity ends there.

"He lives alone in a trailer park several miles out in the desert near Twentynine Palms, kinda like a hermit. See, he's given into his disability, feels like a victim, has no life. He rarely goes out `cos he has to rely on wheelchair accessible vans that are real scarce around here. Has no friends, no fuck buddies, no sex, except for jerking off to porn videos – has a huge collection."

Brandon's eyes misted over. "That was me, sir, before I met Eddie and the tribe took me in. But it doesn't have to be like that, sir, as you can see from me. He needs someone to show him there's a whole life out there." Brandon looked at Mike's expectant face, and grinned. "And you want me to go talk to him, is that it?"

"It's a lot to ask, I know, kid ..."

"No it's not, sir. I was rescued from loneliness by a bunch of guys. At least I can return the favor by talking to Brian. I can go as soon as we've checked into Hassan's house that we're staying in, if Pete says yes and I'm sure he will. You wanna come Darius? At least you'd be something real for the guy to jerk off to."

"Hell yes, dude. Leave it to us, Mike. Poor kid, we'll show him there's life at the end of the tunnel and it ain't no oncoming train."

Mike teared up. "You guys are golden, you know that? OK, I'll give you directions before you leave." He chuckled, "But first, my young porn stars, get ready to meet your fans."

It was an exultant quartet of guys who roared along the remote desert road toward Hassan's house. They had left the bar under a shower of praise and appeals for them to come back soon. Darius and Brandon were hotly congratulated on their backroom show and they exchanged jubilant glances as they drove away side by side.

After a trip to the grocery store to stock up on supplies they finally arrived at Hassan's small house "in the middle of nowhere" as Darius said. Hassan, by nature a solitary man, had bought it as a desert hideaway when he first settled in California, and the guys all knew its history.

It was here that Hassan had asked Mark to meet him, so he could make amends for his brutal treatment of Mark when he interrogated him in the Middle East war. As a penance Hassan had used the basement room to subject himself to the same savage treatment Mark had suffered, offering his magnificent body to the cop in abject atonement. And ever since that day, Marine and cop had been close buddies, sharing a warm intimacy and sexual lust.

But right now the group's cheerful mood was focused on settling in, stowing their gear – and relaxing with a six-pack of beer. Hassan had a caretaker who came once a month to clean and air out the place, so it was ready for them to move in comfortably. They sat out on the terrace in back of the house, stretched out under the warm desert sun.

But Pete could tell that Brandon was restless and he knew why ... the boy kept thinking of Mike's nephew Brian alone in his trailer with only his porn collection for company. "You wanna go see that kid, don't you, Brandon?"

"Yes please, sir. I told Mike I would."

"OK, as long as Darius goes with you." Then Pete chuckled. "So far you've had all the fun, kiddo, getting butt-fucked on the way up here, then fucking Darius in front of all those guys. It's master time now ... time for Zack and me to get, er, better acquainted. So off you go, and work your magic on that lonely kid."

After they had driven off Pete and Zack were left alone with their thoughts. Lounging shirtless on chaises side by side in a companionable silence they closed their eyes against the sun. The desert solitude was conductive to contemplation, though they were acutely aware of each other's proximity, an awareness that caused their cocks to swell in their pants and their thoughts to run on similarly erotic lines.

Pete recalled that when Brandon had first got his new motor-trike Zack had taken the boy on a run to a leather bar down the coast in Sunset Beach, where he had revealed a surprising secret about himself. Zack had related a story he had heard of a macho leather master, an alpha top-man, getting overpowered by a bunch of horny studs who worked him over, forced him suck their dicks, then whipped and fucked him until he was a broken wreck begging for more.

Zack had told Brandon, "To this day I don't know how much of that story was real or fantasized, but either way it opened a door for me to a whole other world. It became a core image for me – a hot muscular top man, tough, rugged, captured by another master, tied up and worked over."

And in a motel room behind the bar Zack had demonstrated his fantasy in front of a wide-eyed Brandon, tying himself up and watching his hot body in a mirror suffer an imaginary whipping and fuck. Brandon had told Pete the whole story and it still resonated in his mind.

Suddenly Zack's voice broke into his thoughts. "Remember when we first met, Pete, in that forest clearing by the lake? You were a tough, arrogant Ranger and Randy, me and our boys tied you up and worked you over. You looked so fucking hot I said I'd like to go mano-a-mano with you sometime, and if you beat me you'd take revenge by tying me up and thrashing me. I told you to imagine the black leather master spread-eagled in bondage, stripped to the waist in leather pants and boots, you whipping my straining body, hearing me scream."

"Yeah, I remember," Pete said, opening his eyes and looking at Zack. "I was hungry for revenge right then and the picture you painted sure appealed to that hunger. Flogging a leather-master and making him beg would be awesome, especially one as spectacular as the muscular black stud who had bound and humiliated me."

"I have a theory," Zack said, "that many a tough, macho top-man sometimes feels a masochistic urge deep down inside him to get the same treatment he dishes out to others, an urge to feel what other guys feel when he works them over. It's partly narcissism, getting off looking at himself in a mirror, watching his body writhe in bondage, his face grimacing in pain."

Pete guessed that this was one of those times, and that same urge was gripping Zack right now. There was another long silence as they let all this sink in, though there was little doubt in either of their minds where this was heading. So it came as no surprise to Pete when Zack said, "You wanna check out Hassan's little dungeon downstairs?"

It was a dark black room, and when the lights came up both men inhaled sharply. Hassan had never changed it after Mark had chained him up there so long ago and made him suffer the same savage punishment he himself had endured. There were bars, chains, a jumble of sex paraphernalia and mirrors on all four walls. And most of all there was the atmosphere, the resonance of all the hard-core sex that still hung in the air, at once erotic and sinister.

Pete looked at Zack and saw a gleam in his eye he had never seen before. "You really want it man, don't you?"

"Yeah," Zack groaned. "When I watched you earlier in the scrubland fuck your boy's ass you looked so fucking hot I knew what I wanted. Yeah, man, I want it real bad."

Zack turned to one of the mirrors and stood gazing at himself while Pete went to the pile of equipment in the corner of the room and picked out two leather wrist restraints. He went behind Zack, pulled his arms behind him and clipped the restraints together. Then he picked up a leather collar, buckled it round his neck and tied a rope to it. The other end of the long rope he tied round one of the upright posts.

Pete stood back and stared at the same image Zack could see – the black muscle-god leather-master, stripped to the waist in leather pants and heavy boots, his magnificent, chiseled physique, carved in ebony, gleaming under the lights. But far from being humbled by the heavy collar round his neck, there was a look of defiance in Zack's intense gray eyes, a macho fierceness, with his rugged features, square stubbled jaw and shaved head.

Zack gazed at himself in the mirror, pulled on his bound wrists and jerked against the collar, flexing his muscles and watching his body strain helplessly at the mercy of another man. He threw his head back and groaned, "Oh fuck, shit ..." as if embarking on a penance that he needed deep in the visceral core of his being. Then he looked at Pete, the tall, handsome Ranger, shirtless in black jeans and boots, his muscular torso catching the spotlights as he paced around his captive.

Pete picked off the wall a slender cane, such as a slave-master might carry. He stood before Zack and pushed the cane under his chin, gazing into his defiant eyes. "So here you are at last, man. I've carried this image with me ever since you had me tied up just like this and humiliated me in front of your buddies. I swore I'd get my revenge and it's taken all this time, but they say that revenge is a dish served cold.

"We have a saying that the Rangers always get their man ... and now I've got mine. You're helpless, big guy, so let me hear you beg forgiveness for what you did to me all that time ago."

With a steely look Zack growled, "Go fuck yourself."

"Oh really? So that's how you want to play this. Well there are more ways than one of doing penance and I've got just the thing to start you off. On your knees, stud."

"Go to hell."

"Fuck you man, I said on your knees." He grabbed the bulge in Zack's crotch, squeezed his balls hard and pulled them downward, making him howl in pain and forcing him to his knees. "That's more like it, stud." Pete stood in front of him, yanked open his own pants and pulled out his long, iron-hard cock. Zack's head was bowed but Pete grabbed his collar behind his neck and pulled his face up, inches from his cock.

"Open up, man." Defiantly Zack clenched his jaw. Pete squeezed the collar tighter, "I said open your mouth, stud," and Zack choked and his jaw sagged open, his rugged black face wincing in pain.

"Remember how you made me suck dick for the first time in my life, man? Wanna know how it felt? Something like this ..." The Ranger slammed his rod into his captive's mouth and deep down his throat, making him choke and reflexively jerk his head back. But Pete held his collar tight, trapping him in place so there was no relief from his driving cock.

Pete knew what Zack needed. He was a tough alpha male with a high threshold for pain, and anything less than a hard fuck would not satisfy either of them. So Pete pounded him with one of the hardest face-fucks he had ever delivered to any man. They could both see the image in the mirror of the bare-chest leather master on his knees, straining hopelessly at his bound wrists, shoulders bulging, biceps flexing, his massive chest heaving in a futile effort to escape.

His handsome black face grimaced in pain, tears brimmed in his gray eyes and ran down his cheeks, his lips clamped wide round the huge rod that pistoned in his mouth. He choked, gagged and tried desperately to breathe through his nose and swallow the cock ramming the back of his throat. His body was bathed in sweat and he thought he would pass out when suddenly the cock pulled out to give him a few seconds of relief.

His eyes stared desperately up at the Ranger and he pleaded hoarsely, "Enough, man, I can't take any more. Please, man, cum in my mouth ... please let me drink your juice. I can't ... aaagh." His words were stifled by the gag of the pole ramming back in his mouth.

Pete knew Zack was near his limit and said, "Man, I love to hear a macho bodybuilder like you beg for mercy. You wanna drink my jizz? OK, stud, let me see how a leather master on his knees submits to another man by drinking his semen. Here it comes, big guy, yeaaah...!"

Pete rammed his cock in one last time and it exploded in the leatherman's mouth making him choke and swallow desperately, gulping down the bitter-sweet liquid pouring down his throat. Suddenly the Ranger pulled his cock out and grabbed it while it erupted with more jizz, this time slamming into the gasping black face. And as cum splashed down on him the alpha muscle-stud suffered the extra humiliation of blasting a load of jizz in his leather pants.

Pete slapped his cock dry against the handsome face, then stood back to watch and gloat.

The shirtless leather master was coughing and sobbing on his knees, tears running down his cheeks, sperm pouring from his mouth and over his sagging jaw. His shaved head and tortured face were smothered in semen, and his crotch was wet with his own cum. In the stifling hot room sweat poured down his face, mixing with the tears and semen that dripped down onto neck and heaving chest. He was a picture of total degradation, a once proud alpha male defeated and sobbing in abject humiliation.

It was one of the hottest sights Pete had ever seen ... and Zack too as he stared at himself in the mirror.

"Damn," Pete said, "that is fucking epic, a broken muscle-god on his knees drenched in cum. Shit, I'm gonna enjoy this ... `cos you know it's only the beginning, man. I still gotta see the beautiful black slave spread-eagled naked, his ass impaled on the master's cock, howling in submission as his own cock blasts a load of cum on the mirror. It's what you want, right?"

Zack raised his cum-soaked face and groaned, "Man, I want it so bad."

TO BE CONTINUED in "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 314

Author's note: In this chapter there are several references to past events that have an impact on this chapter. If you are interested in going back and rediscovering them, here's a guide:

Chapters 91 & 92: Hassan's military interrogation of Mark Chapter 101: Mark's retaliation in Hassan's desert house Chapters 220 & 221: Pete meets Zack and Randy for the first time. Chapter 261: Zack admits his masochistic urges to Brandon

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 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