A Trial of Strength

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 357 By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER:

1. Grady's Tarzan movie revives Mario's insecurity of loving a movie star. So Grady acts out a movie fantasy where Tarzan rescues a captive, then falls in love. "Yes I have come to rescue you but I cannot release such a beautiful man - not until I..." 2) Construction worker Zack nurses a grudge against boss Randy that erupts in a fight. The winner gloats, "I am the best. You're nothing, man, beaten into the dirt."

CHAPTER 357 – "THREATENED MANHOOD"

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

The big party at the Grady House was already a roaring success even before the main event – the private screening of Grady's new movie where the handsome actor stars as the new Tarzan.

He and his Italian lover Mario were hosting the entire tribe of men and boys to the big event that had been planned by their house manager Danny and his new boyfriend, the flawless gymnast Tommy. They were, as always, assisted by the junior boys Brandon, Brian, Eddie and Ben.

The last few days had seen some surprising and happy events. When Grady and Mario had returned from a two-week tour of South America promoting the movie, they had announced to their young houseboy Brian they wanted him to be their boy. Mario had explained, "Grady and I want a little family. We want a boy, a boy we can love and take care of, and someone who loves us. We already think of you as family but this makes it official."

Brian was over the moon, and he wasn't the only one with stars in his eyes. Danny, the chef and house manager, had been quietly feuding with Tommy for a long time until things had come to a head two nights ago. When they shared a bed they discovered that their animosity had been a mask for the lust and love that had always simmered under the surface. From that time on, as they worked on planning the party, they had been inseparable and made love constantly.

In fact they were doing just that in Danny's bed when something happened to intensify the lust and love they felt for each other. On the day of the party, when it was clear that things were going well, they had sneaked away from the crowd to Danny's bedroom to fuck. But they were interrupted by the boss of the tribe, the macho, rugged gypsy Randy.

As he loomed in the doorway he said, "Danny, I'm told you and this young stud Tommy are suddenly a couple. Well good for you, boy, he's a beauty and you're a good match. Only thing is, as leader of the tribe, I usually have to give this kind of thing my approval, and there's only one way to do that. So I'm gonna have to borrow your new boyfriend for a few minutes. But don't worry, kid, you'll get him back in better shape than ever, I guarantee."

Tommy idolized the magnetically sexual Randy and willingly surrendered to another of his legendary savage fucks. When it was over Randy picked him up and laid him on the bed.

Now it's your turn, kid," he said to Danny. "I said I'd prime your boyfriend for you and I have. He's dazed and exhausted, his ass is fucked raw and he's drained his cock of jizz ... which means he's good and ready for you. So here's what you're gonna do ... you're gonna fuck your boyfriend. You're gonna push your dick in that ravaged ass and make love to it. And believe me, it'll be the best fuck both of you will ever have.

And Randy was right. What followed was the most exquisite, other-worldly sensation either one had ever felt as Danny gently eased his cock slowly past the sore, raw membrane of Tommy's ravaged ass, soothed only by the coating of Randy's warm juices. "Tommy, your ass has never felt like this before. It's incredible." Tommy too was overwhelmed. "Oh ... oh ... that feels ... oh my god, it's never felt so ... My ass is ready for you. Make love to it, Danny."

And so, gently, carefully, lovingly they did. With eyes only for each other they were unaware of Randy smiling down at them, unaware of him pulling on his T-shirt and quietly leaving the room with a smug, satisfied grin on his face as he closed the door silently behind him.

Randy went back to the party in the garden and when he emerged from the house a hush fell over the group. His eyes gleamed, his unruly damp hair hung round his face, and his T-shirt clung damply to his sweaty body. It was obvious to them all that he had just fucked ... and they all knew who.

Randy was never more sexy than when he had just fucked ... and he knew it. With an arrogant grin and a casual all-in-a-day's work shrug he sat beside Bob, picked up a beer, tilted his head back and drank deeply, his prominent Adam's apple sliding in his throat. They all felt his sexual magnetism and were quietly awestruck until conversation picked up again, as rowdy as before.

Randy's lover Bob, and his brother Steve, were the two most socially attuned to the currents that flowed through this lusty crowd of men and boys. And both saw that one man seemed not to share in the general awe of Randy. Zack, the handsome, muscular black construction boss, as much a rugged alpha male as Randy, was sitting alone brooding over his beer.

Doctor Steve (the tribe's therapist as well as Randy's brother) had earlier noticed Zack's reaction when Randy had first arrived at the party and a surly cloud had passed over Zack's face. That had surprised Steve as the macho black musclehunk was a close buddy of Randy's, and they worked together as co-bosses of the construction company. There was rarely any bad blood between them – they were more like brothers.

Steve had dismissed that incident as a passing mood, but now it was obvious something was up and he exchanged worried glances with Bob. Bob leaned close to Randy and asked quietly, "Er, is there any, like, problem between you and Zack, buddy?"

"Fucked if I know," Randy retorted gruffly with an indifferent shrug. Bob and Steve rolled their eyes at each other.

Bob pushed the matter out of his mind until, a short while later Danny and Tommy emerged, positively glowing. It was obvious they had been making love after Randy's visit to their room. They walked straight over to Randy with dazzling smiles and said in tandem. "Thank you, sir."

A knowing buzz ran through the group, but Zack jumped to his feet, glared down at Randy and said loudly, "I gotta take a piss." As he strode away to the house Bob looked wide-eyed at Doctor Steve and said softly, "Looks like a case for our resident shrink, old buddy."

"Maybe so, maybe so," Steve smiled. "We shall see." Then, seeing Grady stand up, he added, "Not just yet though ... looks like it's time for the big movie."

********************* CHAPTER 357 *********************

"Gentlemen," Grady announced, "I guess we can't put this off any longer. It's movie time. Bring your drinks, please, and there'll be plenty more in the screening room. Like I said before, the only way to see this movie is good and drunk."

Mario stood up beside him and said, "Before we go, signori, a few words of thanks and two announcements. Grady and I want to thank our house-manager Danny, and Steve's house-manager Tommy, for supervising this affair, along with the twins Kyle and Kevin for working their magic in the kitchen. And a special shout-out to our tireless boys, Brandon, Brian, Eddie and Ben for taking such good care of us.

There were cheers and raised glasses all round and Mario again waved for silence. "And now for the announcements. First, Danny and Tommy – drum roll, please – they're lovers!" More enthusiastic cheers and the two boys stood up and kissed, with increasing passion and to bawdy shouts of "Get a room!"

Mario grinned, "They already did that, guys, as our good friend Randy can testify." Randy raised his fist in the air.

"'Course," Grady grinned. "I always said those two were made for each other."

"No you didn't," said Mario.

"Did too," Grady protested." Brian coughed loudly. He had heard this routine before.

Mario laughed, "Ah, that would be Brian our designated referee. Which brings me to my second announcement, one dear to my heart and to Grady's. As most of you already know – another drum roll, please – our beautiful Brian has agreed to become our boy!" To renewed cheers and chants of Bri-an, Bri-an, Brian wheeled out in front of them and spun round in his wheelchair in dizzying wheelies that Brandon had taught him.

When the cheers died down the group broke up and straggled off to the house and down the stairs to the screening room. The last to leave were Steve and Bob, Darius hovering close to them, and his master Zack still morosely nursing a beer at the end of the table. Bob looked at Darius, frowned, and nodded toward Zack.

"Gotcha, sir," Darius said. "Er, can we talk later?"

"Sure thing, kid," Steve said. "But go take care of him." Darius ambled over to Zack, bent down and whispered a few words in his ear. Zack nodded, reluctantly rose from the table and allowed his boy to lead him to the house after the others.

"So, doc," Bob said, draining his drink, "as our resident shrink, what do you make of that?"

"Well there's obviously something going on and it seems to be directed at Randy. `Course it could be that Randy is just the nearest target. I mean, those two are so close, so alike in strength and macho dominance, they could be brothers. And like all brothers there is bound to be an undercurrent of rivalry that usual stays friendly but occasionally erupts into conflict because of some tension or other. Hell, Randy and I were an example of that when he found out we were brothers and he stormed into my office, knocked me down and fucked my ass."

"Yeah," Bob laughed, "and I recall what he said afterwards as he wiped his dick. `So much for brotherly love, eh, Steve? Didn't feel very fraternal to me either.' But you know, I have a feeling that whatever's going on between him and Zack, Randy's not the aggressor this time."

"I think you're right, Bob. Well, we'll let it simmer a while before I get involved. But come on, buddy ... don't wanna miss the opening credits of Grady's movie."

Steve couldn't know it at the time but the Zack situation never did have a chance to simmer before Steve was involved whether he liked it or not.

They took their seats in the already crowded screening room. It was a large room with a giant screen and plenty of cushioned seats, but even so Danny and Tommy had brought in extra chairs to accommodate the two dozen men of the tribe. Grady was seated in the front row with Mario on his right, their boy Brian on his left and Brandon next to him. Danny was in charge of the console, inserting the DVD he had brought down from the safe and dimming the lights.

But before they started Grady stood up and faced the crowd. "First thing you should know, guys, is I'm shit scared about your reaction to the movie. You are among the very few who will have seen it outside the studio – they haven't even test-screened it yet or done focus groups, so you'll be the first critics. Be kind, fellas.

"A few words about the movie credits and cast list. You will see a name you recognize ... our good buddy Brandon. Ta da!" he laughed as Brandon waved.

Grady explained, "Brandon was visiting the set one day when the boy playing a small role of a kid in a wheelchair who gets rescued by Tarzan, failed to show up. For reasons of authenticity – and political correctness too – the director wanted a boy who actually uses a wheelchair. He turned round and there was Brandon. It was intended to be a short walk-on part – sorry, kiddo, roll-on – but Brandon was so effective that they wrote a second scene where Tarzan reunites the kid with his parents – a real tearjerker.

"But ... wait for it guys ... here's something even Brandon doesn't know. I just saw the whole finished draft of the sequel that we've already begin filming and they've written a couple of short scenes for the wheelchair boy again – kind of a tearful reunion with the jungle man who rescued him last time. `Course, it's a sequel so it has to be the same actor – depending of course on your availability, Brandon, in your busy film schedule," Grady teased.

Brian threw his arms round Brandon next to him who blushed deep red at the applause enveloping him. "Yeah," Bob shouted, "and because he is so popular his price just went up for the next movie. So Grady, have your people speak to Brandon's people to negotiate." Grady threw his head back and joined in the laughter, then waved them quiet.

"There's another boy who helped out behind the scenes. You'll see a scene where Tarzan goes back to London as Viscount John of Greystoke and fucks a servant girl. I found this near-rape scene difficult to get my mind round, so Brian here ran lines with me over and over again in my bedroom. It got so heated, so real, that he ended up playing the victim on the bed while I fucked him. The scene turned out great, real authentic, mostly because when I acted out fucking the girl on the set I was thinking about sexy young Brian. So thank you, kiddo."

Amid the cheers Grady held up his hand. "OK, guys, I'm almost done, but I really have to pay special tribute to one other name you'll see in the credits. Under "Very Special Thanks" Randy is listed as my body coach and trainer." More wild applause.

"He alone is responsible for Tarzan's muscles and his `gorgeous body'," Grady joked. "One thing the credits don't mention of course is that the only reason Grady dragged himself to those early morning, bone-crunching gym sessions is that Randy fucked Tarzan's ass at the end of each one. Now it can be told!"

The room erupted with more laughter – except for Zack who had one more reason for envy and resentment. Grady said, "OK, guys, that's it, I'm done. Sit down and shut up, Grady. Danny, if you please ... lights, cameras ... aaand action."

After seeing their buddy Grady standing before them cracking jokes it was something of a shock to see his name come up on the big screen ... before the movie title. That nailed his future stardom right there and certainly brought thunderous applause in the room. Then silence fell as the movie began with a startling action scene where Tarzan made a dramatic first entrance swinging on a vine.

The audience gazed in awe at the magnificent Tarzan. They had all got to know and love Grady as their buddy, just one of the guys, but it was a shock to see him looking so glamorous and so sexy on the big screen.

But soon they were engrossed in the action and sat mesmerized through the two-hour movie The bondage scene, where Tarzan is captured by hostile soldiers, tied to a tree and whipped to force information from him, held them especially spellbound and there wasn't a limp dick in the room. Tears came to Brian's eyes seeing his hero abused, and Brandon squeezed his hand and whispered, "It's only a movie, dude."

Apart from sporadic gasps from the spectators, the only time the room broke into cheers was when Brandon made his appearance in his short scene. And there was a stirring during the servant girl scene where everyone imagined not the girl, but Brian being butt-fucked by Grady.

When at last the movie came to a dramatic, action-filled finale, ending with a close-up of Tarzan doing his triumphant Tarzan yell, the room erupted in sustained applause. It swelled when Grady's name rolled up at the top of the credits, and when, much lower down, Brandon's name appeared.

And the cheers reached a crescendo when, lower down still under Very Special Thanks, Randy's name rolled up the screen. It clearly wasn't only because of his participation in the film. It was a noisy tribute to the esteem and affection that the whole tribe had for the charismatic founder and leader of the tribe.

During the ovation Bob snuck a glance at Zack who seemed to be slow-clapping sarcastically with a thunderous look on his face. Steve had seen it too and caught Bob's eye with another of their eye-roll looks.

When at last the applause died down Grady stood up and thanked them for their enthusiastic reaction. But a strange thing happened. A kind of awed silence fell over the room.

The tribe knew and loved their good buddy Grady who had become a favorite in the group with his easy-going fun-loving ways. He was drop-dead gorgeous of course, but in this crowd physical beauty was no rarity – it was a tribe of handsome men.

And of course they all knew he had been making this film for months, he had made them laugh with tales from the set, and a few of them had even visited the set as his guest. They were aware of his growing celebrity world-wide and took great pains to preserve his privacy in the Grady House. But to them he had always been just one of the boys – just our Grady.

However, now they had actually just seen him on the screen, larger than life, magnificent – and it was a revelation. They all found it difficult to reconcile this new movie star of a major big-budget film with the down-to-earth guy who was their friend. This was the new reality. Grady was different from them ... hell, he was a movie star!

As Grady looked at them his heart sank. He knew the look on their faces, a look he had seen so often from fans who were scared to approach him, so in awe of his celebrity that they saw him as something not quite human, out of their league. So now Grady's habitual smile faded and a look of muted panic crossed his face.

"Oh, guys ... not you ... not you too. As all this movie-star bullshit has grown I've felt more and more remote from the real world. This has become my real world – you guys, my buddies, the tribe. I'm no different now than I was before you saw the movie. I'm not Tarzan, guys, I'm Grady, your Grady. Please don't let this damn movie come between us."

His eyes brimmed with tears and an uncomfortable silence hung over the room. Then suddenly the gap between them was breached by ... Randy of course.

He stood up and said, "Yeah, boy, you're a mere mortal like the rest of us, but unlike us your looks and your body are how you make your living. And that's why you need me. So if you're not in my gym by 6 a.m. tomorrow morning I'll damn-well fuck your ass raw. Well, you're gonna get that anyway. I treat all you guys alike, and you're no different from the others, you're one of us. So you get your ass down to my gym and be ready to work. Do I make myself clear, boy?"

Tears ran down Grady's face. "Absolutely, sir. Thank you, Randy, that's just what I needed to hear. I hope that goes for the rest of you guys, too."

As usual they took their cue from Randy, got to their feet and gathered round him, showering him with praise and questions about the movie, the special effects, the other actors ... When at last he broke free he sat down next to Bob. "Buddy, I'm so glad you and Randy are in my life. But I wanna ask you something. I wanna know what you thought of the movie, `cos I know you'll tell me the truth. Be brutally frank, Bob. I can take it from you."

Bob frowned. "Well, great big movies like this are not usually my cup of tea. I'm an art-house kind of guy." He chuckled. "Even foreign films with subtitles don't faze me. Now this film has great production values, well directed, amazing special effects, but even so it could have been just another Tarzan movie, only bigger than the rest."

Grady tensed nervously, then Bob's face broke into a smile. "But it's not just another Tarzan movie, Grady ... because of you. You are what raised this film head and shoulders above the others. And I don't mean just your incredible looks, though you have to be the most gorgeous Tarzan ever to grace the screen. Much more than that it's your charisma, your attitude of maybe not quite taking it too seriously, like there's a sense of humor under all your character's toughness and heroics. Your Tarzan is a fully rounded man.

"Your sexuality leaps off the screen so we drool over this Tarzan, sure, and cheer for our hero, but you also make the audience smile. You are this movie, buddy, which is why it's going to be a great success and you are gonna be a major star. It's also why these guys were numbed when they saw their friend up on the screen looking larger than life and didn't know how to treat you. Thankfully Randy put paid to that. He has a knack of dealing with stuff like that. Nobody is larger than life than Randy – even a major movie star."

Grady threw his arms round Bob and said, "Thank you, thank you for that, Bob. No matter what reviews we get from the media, your review is the one I will always remember. It kinda makes all the hard work and celebrity bullshit worthwhile."

There was a gentle cough above them and Grady looked up to see Mario smiling down at him. Grady stood up and looked nervously at him. "So what's the verdict, amico?"

"I'll show you in a minute, amore, after I have spoken to our guests." He raised his voice above the din. "Er, Attenzione, signori. On behalf of Grady I want to thank you for your enthusiastic reaction to his movie. The movie is over but the celebration is not. We invite you all to stick around, eat, drink and be merry and stay with is for dinner. If you all move upstairs the boys will take care of you."

Before the noise level rose again, Mario added, "And, er, if you will forgive us, signori, Grady and I will leave you for a short time while the boys attend to your needs. We, er, have something to attend to upstairs."

"What's that?" Jason asked jovially, "another sequel to the movie – the conquest of Tarzan?"

"You could say that, Jason," Mario laughed. "Only difference is, this one's not for public viewing." As bawdy laughter filled the room Mario pulled Danny aside. "Danny, you and the guys have worked so hard I'm sorry to pile this on you too. Do you think you can cope?"

"Sure we can, sir," Danny smiled. "The twins and I saw this coming and we've already planned a menu. Nate has offered to help Brandon and Brian clear up after the brunch as they can carry so much stuff on their tray tables. And Tommy will supervise Eddie and Ben serving drinks and setting up for dinner. The boys are all so stoked after the movie that they need some way to burn off all that energy. So it's all in hand, sir. You go and, er ... relax with Grady, sir. Don't worry about a thing."

Mario kissed him on the lips. "You are so good to us, Danny. When this is all over we'll make it up to you." Mario went over to Grady and pulled him out of the crowd. "Excuse me, guys, but I'll bring him back. And he'll be better than ever, I guarantee."

As soon as they entered their bedroom and closed the door behind them there were tears in Grady's eyes as he pulled Mario into his arms and hugged him tight. "Buddy, I couldn't go through all this without you. The pressure gets so great and it's only gonna get worse as we come closer to the premiere." He pulled back and held Mario at arm's length. "And look at you ... you look so fucking gorgeous in those clothes."

Earlier, when they had dressed for the party, Grady had given Mario a gift to celebrate the occasion – the brown calfskin pants that Grady, as Viscount John, had worn in the movie's 19th Century England scenes. To please Grady, Mario had worn the pants along with a floppy white renaissance-style shirt, open halfway down his chest.

"You look so damn sexy dressed like that, Mario. With those chiseled Italian features and curly black hair you look just like that painting we have in the hallway downstairs of the Renaissance Florentine nobleman."

"And I can even do the accent, mio signore," Mario smiled.

Then Grady grew serious. "But what d'ya think, amico? You think the guys really liked the movie or were they just being polite?"

Mario laughed. "Sei stupido, amore. Of course they loved it, and not only because it's you but because it's a great movie. I overheard what Bob told you and he was absolutely right. He expressed it well, a ringing endorsement."

"But what about you, buddy? Yours is the most important opinion to me."

"I told you, Grady, I agree with Bob. The movie's going to be a great success and you are gonna be a major star." Grady looked into his eyes and saw a cloud there.

"But what, buddy? I feel a `but' there. What's the matter? Tell me."

"Well, you know that reaction from the guys when the movie ended? How they stared at you like fans do, the big movie star who's in a whole other world, like your feet don't touch the same ground as theirs? I ... I thought I was ready for seeing you up there but I guess I wasn't, quite."

Panic sprang to Grady's face. "No, please, not you too, Mario. I remember your paranoia after we first met that I was in on a whole different level from you, that my celebrity was a barrier between us. `The movie star and the gardener,' you said. It even split us up for a while, the worst few weeks of my life. But, man, I thought we got over all that on the trip to Tuscany. Please, amico, tell me you're not feeling it again."

"No, Grady, no, not really. But seeing you up there on the screen, a movie idol, knowing that the world is gonna fall in love with you, I did have a frisson of ... I don't know, I ... I wanted to be up there with you. I wanted you to shout, "Hey world, this is my real lover, Mario. I wanted to be the one that you rescued from danger in the jungle, the one you carried off and made love to. Except she was Jane and this time your lover would be me."

He trailed off. "Now it's me who is stupido. I'm not making sense, I know. Pay no attention, amico, it's just my stupid insecurity."

"No, no, I understand what you're saying," Grady said. "But I don't like to hear you say it, and I'll make sure you never do again." His voice took on a harder edge. "Come here." He pulled Mario to the bed, shoved him down on it and Mario fell heavily on his back.

And it was that man, still dressed in tight calfskin pants and loose renaissance shirt, and barefoot, who now looked up at Grady in surprise. Grady's usually sunny expression had changed to the fierce frown of the Tarzan in the movie.

He yanked Mario's arms up to the corners of the bed where there were always ropes hanging from the bedposts, remnants of games they had played in the past. Except that usually Grady was the bound captive. Not this time. Quickly Grady tied Mario's wrists to the posts, glared down at him ... then abruptly strode out of the room.

Mario lay there dazed, not sure what was happening. He tugged at the ropes but realized that Grady had tied them tight so there was no escape. That feeling always caused a momentary surge of panic that this time quickly morphed into the paranoia he had felt before. He had been so stupid saying what he had to Grady. Did Grady take it as a lack of trust? Did he feel Mario did not love him enough to overcome that ridiculous celebrity thing?

The look on Grady's face had been fierce, he had treated him so roughly and left the room so abruptly ... he must be angry. Yes, he had seen it in his eyes. "Che stupido," Mario murmured, blaming himself. He had said the wrong thing, he had to make it right. He had to go to him. He pulled frantically at the ropes, desperate to get free and run to Grady. But he was helpless. The only person who could free him was Grady.

He looked up desperately at his wrists and tugged harder. So intent was he on his task that he didn't hear the door open quietly, didn't see the figure in the doorway watching the handsome young nobleman writhing helplessly in bondage trying to get free.

Then Mario saw him and his heart pounded faster. It was the magnificent man he had just watched on the screen – the muscular Tarzan wearing only a brown rawhide loincloth, staring at him from across the room. Mario had to talk to him, had to explain, had to make it come right. He grew even more desperate to be free, and his body strained and flexed as he struggled against his restraints, his handsome face thrashing from side to side, tousled black hair flying.

As he walked slowly forward and paced silently round the bed, staring down at the helpless man, Grady was entering a world of movie fantasy. Grady was the consummate actor and when he played the role in the movie he became Tarzan ... it was easy, to shed his skin for another. It was easy now too as he watched the muscular nobleman struggle, and heard him beg.

"Untie me, man. Please, set me free. I can't get loose ... help me."

Mario too was quickly falling under the spell of make-believe, the spell of this man he had seen play just such a scene as this – the rescue in the jungle. Grady leaned down and ran his hand under the open shirt and stroked the prisoner's chest. His deep voice said, "You are a beautiful man. Yes I have come to rescue you but I did not expect such a beautiful man. I am not sure I want to set you free ... not yet ... not until I ..."

He stood at the foot of the bed and Mario stared in awe at the homoerotic, near-naked muscle-god, at his flawless physique and the bulge in his loincloth. Suddenly Tarzan fell forward and braced his hands on the bed on either side of the captive's face. Their eyes met, he lowered himself onto him, their bodies ground together and their mouths closed in a ravenous kiss.

Then Grady pulled off, sprang to his feet by the bed and Mario heard Tarzan's voice. "I want you ... I must have you." He ripped open the brown pants and pulled them and the briefs down over his legs and tossed the aside. He saw the prisoner's cock spring up hard as a rod and smiled, "And you want me too, I see that. We shall see how much. Yes, I will free you, but only on one condition."

He knelt between Mario's legs, leaned forward and ripped open his shirt. "Oh yes," he breathed, reaching down and cupping his hands over the hard pecs. "Oh yes, I want you, and I will have you." He pulled back on his knees, pulled his rigid cock from under his loincloth, spat on it and stroked it. "This is how I will own you – like this ..." He pushed the prisoner's legs in the air, his eyes blazed down at him ... and he drove his cock deep inside his ass.

"Aaaagh ..." Mario screamed. And as he felt the savage shaft pounding his ass all shreds of reality vanished and he was launched into a fantasy ... he was in the movie, a bound prisoner. The jungle man had come to rescue him but had fallen in love with him, had ripped off his pants and was plundering his ass with his pile-driving cock. "You are magnificent," his captor shouted, "and I will pour my juice in your ass. Let me see how much you want me, man."

The wild fuck became ferocious and sweat poured off the naked man's body as it flexed over his victim. The savage grabbed his shirt and pulled his back up off the bed as his attack intensified until, with the force of the pounding fuck, the fabric ripped and Mario fell back on the bed, his tattered shirt hanging in shreds over his muscular chest.

Even as he struggled hopelessly against the ropes binding him Mario knew he was lost ... lost to the fantasy, lost to the sexual power of this man. He saw the Tarzan face tense, the eyes flash and heard the deep voice ... "Magnificent ... yes, I want you. I will take you ... now!"

The rod plunged deep inside him, paused, shuddered, and he felt warm juice filling his ass. With one last desperate tug at the ropes Mario's body bucked, muscles bulged ... and semen blasted from his cock and splashed down on his abs, his chest and his face and his torn shirt.

For an instant the Grady grin shone down at him, but it was quickly replaced by the clenched-jaw intensity of Tarzan. "I knew you wanted me," he growled. "But I want more ... I want this all the time, every day, and I will plough your ass now until you surrender to me. You don't think I can? This is how much I love you."

Incredibly Grady's cock was still hard and started to move again, not savagely this time but gently massaging the raw membrane of Mario's ravaged ass. His imagination went into overdrive as he stared down at the handsome dark-haired nobleman, helplessly bound, naked now except for the shreds of his shirt hanging from his shoulders.

As he fucked him slowly he said, "This is how it will be, every day, all the time. I will only release you when you agree to belong to me. And even then you will still be my prisoner, my willing prisoner. I will carry you off to my home where you will live with me forever, and we will make love every day. I do not want you to be afraid of me because of who I am ... afraid that I am more powerful than you. We will trust and need each other. We must be equals, friends, lovers – inseparable."

Grady's eyes penetrated Mario's. "Do you agree to that? Don't speak. If you agree to be my lover you must show me. Here, I will help you." Grady wrapped his hand round Mario's cock and stroked it as he continued to make love to his ass. And they both knew the answer. There was no question ... of course Tarzan would carry the Italian nobleman off to his home and of course they would live there as lovers forever – just as Grady and Mario would.

And the proof of their passion came very soon. As one man fucked the other and stroked the man's cock the mood changed – it was the real world and the Grady grin was back as he said, "How was that, amico? Quite a scene, eh? Should be in the next movie – Tarzan carrying his new lover off into the jungle. Do you want to seal the deal? Can you?"

"Of course I can, amore – let's do it together." And once again, so soon after their first tumultuous orgasm, as they smiled at each other their bodies trembled and their cocks poured juice again, this time not in a frenzy of lust but with the balm of love, a love they knew now would last forever.

With his cock still inside Mario Grady grinned down at him and said, "End of movie, roll credits." He raised his head, cupped his hands round his mouth and the room shook to the sound of the triumphant Tarzan yell.

The jubilant sound carried throughout the house and out to the men and boys who had reassembled in the garden. Conversations paused and knowing smiles spread over faces. Mark chuckled, "Sounds like the final shot of another movie. I guess the sequel is pretty much like the first, except that this one only has a cast of two."

"That's all it takes, mate," said Adam in his Australian drawl.

The clamor of voices resumed and reached a pitch when Grady and Mario reappeared with dazzling smiles, bowing to acknowledge the cheers. Grady was in his usual shorts and a loose tank-top, Mario was wearing the tan pants again but this time with a plain white V-neck T-shirt.

Then went over to their boy Brian who whispered to Mario, "What happened to your shirt, sir?"

Mario bent down to him and said quietly, "It's on the bed, bambino, kind of ragged and wet with jizz. You might want to go up and rescue it. I know you like to collect shirts like that – hell, sometimes I think you auction them off to the other boys." Brian grinned impishly and wheeled himself quickly into the house.

A few yards away Bob, Randy, Steve and Mark were sitting together when Darius came over to them. "Where's Zack?" Bob asked. "Is he still downstairs?"

"No, sir, he went home. I wanted to go with him but he said he wanted some time alone to think. I think what he really meant was to brood. Er, can I talk to you guys for a minute?"

"Huh," Randy huffed, "he should have let you go with him. All that guy needs is your ten-inch rod up his ass."

"Randy, that's not helpful," Bob frowned. "Of course you can talk to us Darius, take a seat. Now, do you have any idea what's bugging that man of yours? You don't have to betray any confidences if you choose not to, you know that."

"Oh I want to talk about it, sir, `cos it worries me. I've never seen Zack like this – I mean, he's always so tough and self-confident, real macho if you know what I mean. But lately it's like he's ... he's sulking. It's been coming on for some time and I do have a vague idea what it's about."

"Good," Steve said. "It's useful for us to get your point of view, Darius, as you know Zack probably better than anyone. And whatever you tell us here is in strictest confidence."

"Well, sir, like I said, sir, Zack is a real tough guy, a leader of men. Thinks of himself as a match for any guy ... even you, sir," he grinned at Randy.

"Ah, so this is all about me, is it?" Randy growled.

"Well, in a way, sir," Darius frowned. "I think, for whatever reason, Zack feels ... it's hard to find the words ... that he's kinda not getting the respect he deserves, like ... like his masculinity is threatened. There's a word ... I dunno ... immaculate something ..."

"Emasculated," Steve said. "It means, literally, having his balls snipped, losing his masculinity. Of course it's mostly in his imagination, a kind of paranoia. A loss of self-esteem is a condition therapists see very often. But I wonder what's causing it in Zack. Any idea?"

Darius frowned again. "I ... I think it has something to do with his work at the construction company and how he compares himself with you guys. He don't feel ... quite equal."

"But that's not true," Mark said. "He's one of the four directors of the company, Randy, Bob him and me, and we all have an equal vote."

"Well, that's not how he sees it, sir. He was rambling on one day about how the board is stacked against him. He thinks when an issue comes up Bob will always vote with Randy, of course, and Mark too, `cos you're all a ... like a trio kind a' thing. And recently he overheard Pablo saying that Randy was thinking of putting him on the board of directors, and then Zack would feel like a real outsider."

"Bullshit," Randy growled. "These guys are all independent, they vote the way they feel. Shit, they don't let me get away with nothing and that makes me so mad I wanna slug them. As for Pablo, maybe Zack didn't hear the bit about putting you on the board too, Darius, and maybe Jamie. We all think you guys deserve it."

Randy clenched his fist. "Nah, this is all about me. Hell, I think of Zack like a brother. He's right, he's one of the few men that can beat me in a fight. We show off at work all the time with these little tests of strength, friendly usually but sometimes they can get serious ... a real rivalry. That goes with the territory for men like Zack and me, but I think that's what's eating him."

"Darius?" Steve looked enquiringly at Zack's boy.

"Well, sir, there may be something in that. Like today, when Randy and Bob first arrived there was a hush fell over the crowd – there always is, kind of respectful. I was watching Zack and he wasn't best pleased. Then it got worse when Randy went up to Danny's room and did a number on Tommy, making those guys even more in love. You came back with that sweaty, just-fucked strut of yours, sir. And when they came down they thanked Randy in front of everyone.

"The clincher came when we watched the movie and Grady gave that enthusiastic shout-out to Randy for their gym sessions, and in the end credits when Randy's name came up there was a big cheer. I mean, face it, sirs, any so-called brother of a guy who's that popular is bound to feel a bit ... you know, second rate."

Steve put his hand over Darius's. "Darius, I gotta hand it to you, you make a lot of sense. You are observant, objective, and reach logical conclusions. And you're compassionate too. I applaud you for ending up by coming to Zack's defense, and I think you're right about that too. And if these guys do decide to give you a seat on the board, you'll be a very good influence."

"Well done, Darius," Bob smiled. "I agree with Steve." He sighed. "But Steve, I'm more troubled than ever. Is there anything we can do to help?"

Steve shrugged. "Not much, I'm afraid. Sounds like he could benefit from therapy but I can't get involved professionally unless Zack actively seeks my help. For now, I suggest we back off and humor Zack, and above all don't aggravate him and make things worse.

"That goes especially for you, Randy. I know what a hair-trigger you've got, bro, with those clenched fists ready to swing at any time. I know it's not in your nature to back off, but even if Zack bad-mouths you, don't react. You two together are like a powder-keg ready to blow. If you were to beat him in one of those knock-down drag-out fights between you it would be disastrous and make him even more resentful.

"As for you, Darius, you're Zack's boy and your role is to support him no matter what. When you go home try to calm him down ... be the aspirin for his headache," Steve grinned.

Darius flashed a smile, "I got ways to calm Zack down, sir." He rubbed the huge bulge in his jeans. "Only problem is it might give him a headache rather than get rid of one."

Darius always had a knack of defusing the tension and the meeting broke up in a gust of laughter. They all went back to the party and soon everyone was trooping into the large dining room for dinner that the boys had set up. It was, as expected, a lively affair, with most of the talk focused on the movie. Brian, sitting next to Grady, said, "Sir, is there any chance we can see the movie again soon?"

"You mean you really want a re-play? My, you're a glutton for punishment," Grady laughed. "But sure you can. Danny will have the disc locked in the safe and if anyone wants to see it again ask him. Depending on his workload he'll bring it out and screen it for you again. Needless to say, the disc can't leave the house."

Grady put his arm round Brian. "As for you kiddo, you'll be sleeping next door to the real thing, so you can come in and fuck with the real live Tarzan, or watch him on film ... your choice."

That brought bawdy comments and suggestions from the other boys that made Brian blush. After that the dinner wound down and, after a very long day, the party broke up, with many effusive thanks and congratulations to Grady and Mario. They all paired off and went home, no doubt to talk out the party and the movie over late night-caps. Tommy stayed here with Danny, and Grady suggested they and Brian join him and Mario for a late brandy in their room.

"Hey, kiddo, did you clean up the bed yet?"

"Oh no, sorry, sir," Brian blushed, "but I'll do it right now."

"Don't you dare, bambino," Mario laughed. "The bed is just the way we want it. It's Grady's favorite thing, a rumpled bed smelling of jizz. Sets just the right tone." Mario raised his glass to the boys. "And before we go up amici, Grady and I want to thank you for all your hard work in making the premiere of the movie un grande trionfo!"

Over the next couple of days the men tried to follow Steve's advice and play it cool with Zack, not get under his skin and provoke an eruption that seemed increasingly likely.

The most awkward place for that was the construction site. When the whole crew was there it wasn't so hard for Randy and Zack to keep their distance, though it seemed strange as they usually worked so closely together. In fact, as the day wore on, their unusual separation took on a significance of its own. It only heightened the sense of rivalry, an implication that their antagonism was becoming so intense that they had stopped communicating.

That was not Randy's intention, of course. He was only trying to do what Steve had suggested and not make waves. As always in stressful situations he poured his energy in his work and became an even tougher boss, throwing orders around and reinforcing his role as boss of the outfit.

Zack saw this and it made his resentment even fiercer. Who the hell did the fucking gypsy think he was? Dammit, Zack thought, he'll be yelling at me next. Zack's paranoid delusions created a circling vortex of resentment that got stronger and stronger. Randy sensed that things were coming to a head and it was a relief when the whistle blew for the end of the shift.

As the crew put down their tools and straggled out through the gates Randy hoped Zack would follow them, which would relieve the tension. He said to Darius and Pablo, "Guys, I'm gonna stick around and while. Few things I wanna finish up here."

Pablo and Darius had been aware of the situation ever since Darius's conversation with Steve and Bob, and throughout the day they had kept an anxious eye on the delicate dance going on. They were not about to abandon Randy so Pablo said, "Same here, sir. We wanna finish up with this truck, so we'll work a bit longer too."

If they thought that would bring the tense situation to an end they were wrong. In his irrational state Zack saw this as Randy and the boys closing ranks, and he was damned if he was gonna be dismissed along with the rest of the crew. He needed to assert his masculinity, which he did by an ostentatious feat of physical strength.

There was a heavy metal I-beam resting on a six-foot high scaffold that needed to be moved down on the ground. The crew had left it for the following day as it would normally take at least three men to do the heavy lifting. But Zack strode over to it, put his shoulder under it and strained to lift it. It rose unsteadily a few inches up and Randy looked up in alarm. As boss his mantra was always `safety first' and he knew that what Zack was doing risked serious injury.

"What the fuck?" he yelled. "Man, you can't lift that on your own." He ran over and took the weight of the other end on his shoulder.

They were facing each other in a senseless trial of strength, their eyes blazing. So fixated were they on each other that they lost the vital focus on the shifting weight and in a split second the balance was lost and the beam crashed to the ground. Mercifully their reflexes were fast enough that they both leapt away an instant before their limbs would be have been crushed.

Randy naturally hit the roof. "What the fuck crazy stunt were you pulling, asshole? You know damn well one man can't lift a beam like that. What have I always told you about safety?"

"Oh, yessir massa, sir," Zack said sarcastically. "Da black man should have obeyed the white boss." He poked Randy in the chest. "Who the fuck do you think I am, dickhead, one of your peons that you can shove around as you like? I've had it up to here with you, man, playing the big boss around here and whenever the tribe gets together. Just because you own the goddam company, just because you've got that hot boyfriend, just because these boys think the sun shines out of your fucking ass.

"Well here's a newsflash, asshole, I'm not one of your servants. I'm twice the man you are, stronger, tougher, and I can take you down any time I want. Come to think of it, that's what you need right now, motherfucker – a man who can knock you off your pedestal and cut you down to size. So let's see what you got, big guy. Let's see who'll be the last man standing, eh?"

The horrified boys took a step forward but Randy said, "Back off, boys. This is between me and him." Summoning up all the self-control he could muster Randy stared at Zack. "Look man, I dunno what demons you got burning inside you, but this ain't the way to solve anything. I don't wanna fight you, and I'm not gonna. Now just cool it, bro, and let's talk."

Zack's eyes blazed and he continued jabbing Randy in the chest, "I am not your bro', asshole. Take a good look – me black man, you white man – a greasy gypsy white, but still white. What, you chicken, too scared to fight, cos you know I'll whip your ass? Come on, boy, fight me."

Randy realized there was no reasoning with the man and when he saw the pain bordering on madness in his eyes he felt a wave of pity and knew he couldn't fight him. He held his arms out to the sides and said, "OK, Zack if that's the way you want it, take your best shot. Come on man, don't wimp out on me. Hit me."

Incensed by Randy's cool attitude Zack took a swing and slammed the back of his fist against Randy's cheek. Randy reeled backwards, his eyes burning with anger, every fiber of his being straining to fight back. But somehow Randy suppressed his natural urges of the street fighter.

Randy was a man of impulse and acted instinctively. He rarely reasoned things out – he felt them. And now, conditioned by his brother Steve's advice, his instinct was not to retaliate, but to let his buddy Zack get the rage out of his system. Besides, Randy knew intuitively that a man proved his strength and toughness more by taking a beating than by delivering one, so he braced himself for the attack, which came instantly.

"Come on asshole, fight," Zack yelled, punctuation his words with his fists, slamming Randy's face, one side then the other. The rugged gypsy staggered backward under the blows, his arms hanging down loose, his long black hair swinging wildly as his face was slapped from side to side. He fell back against a truck and Zack gut punched him. Randy double over, slumped to his knees, then fell forward on his stomach in a daze."

The boys watched in horror, knowing they could not intervene, and Darius grabbed Pablo's arm and squeezed it, knowing how agonizing this was for Randy's boy to see his hero get thrashed.

Stripped to the waist in black jeans the powerful black muscle-stud towered over Randy, his chest heaving. "Get up, man," Zack growled, "get up and fight." He hooked his boot under Randy's stomach and heaved him over onto his back. He leaned down, grabbed the greasy tank-top Randy always wore and used it to pull his back up off the ground. As he hung limply in that position Zack continued to slam his face, his head swinging helplessly from side to side.

At last the thin tank ripped and Randy fell back on his back in a dazed stupor. By this time Zack was running only on adrenaline, on his urge to prove his manhood no matter what. His body was on fire, muscles rippling ... and his cock was rock hard in his jeans. He growled, "Look at you, man, beaten in the dust. Not the big gypsy boss now are you, stud? I am the best – you're nothing. And now you're gonna get what you've had coming for a long time."

Zack kicked the limp body over onto his stomach, and pulled the beaten man's workpants down to his thighs, baring his ass. He yanked his own cock out of his jeans and dropped to his knees between Randy's splayed legs. "Yeah," he snarled, "the King of the Gypsies has been thrashed by the real boss of the outfit. He's met his match, now he's bareassed in the dirt waiting for the final humiliation."

Zack reached out to grab a nearby narrow plank that he pressed down on the small of Randy's back, pinning him to the ground, giving him a clear shot at his helpless ass. "Here it comes, big guy. You lose!" Holding him down with the plank Zack pushed his cock between the ass cheeks, paused, then rammed it deep inside his ass at the start of a brutal dry fuck.

Randy's scream echoed round the construction site and he reached forward in a helpless attempt to crawl away from the attack on his ass. He grabbed the tire of the truck and dug his fingers into the tread, bracing himself for the pain to come. And it came right away as Zack became a fuck machine, his gleaming ebony body flexing and sweating, his massive black shaft pounding like a merciless piston.

The boys stared in disbelief as the master of the tribe, the big powerful gypsy, his ripped shirt hanging from his bruised body, lay face down in the dirt, gritting his teeth as he endured the ferocious pile-driver pounding his ass.

But he was saved from serious injury by the testosterone flooding through Zack's heaving body and swelling his balls and cock. Beyond thought or reason Zack felt empowered, his masculinity restored as he proved his muscular supremacy over the macho construction boss. "I am the best," he howled. "Here it comes, man, the final degradation. I'm gonna blast my jizz in your gypsy ass ... Fuck you, man. Fuck you ... Yeeeah!"

With one last brutal thrust Zack's cock exploded in Randy's ass, flooding it with his sperm as Randy clenched his jaw, dug his fingers in the tire and flexed every muscle to absorb the pain. He shuddered, groaned ... and went limp.

Feeling triumphant Zack pulled out, leapt to his feet and loomed over his battered rival. "Man, you have been whipped good. Look at you, bare-ass in the dust, shirt ripped to shreds, with my jizz oozing out your ass. I got one last thing for you, bossman." Holding his cock he let loose a stream of piss that splashed down on the gypsy's head and neck, over his back and ass, and soaked his jeans, in a final act of abject humiliation.

Having purged his demons and proved his manhood, or so he thought, Zack shoved his cock back in his jeans, zipped them up and stared down at Randy's limp body. He blinked and frowned with a puzzled expression, almost as if he were seeing Randy for the first time. "OK, man, get up. It's over. I proved I'm the best, so get up now."

But the body didn't move and Zack's voice lost its authority, became almost plaintive. He nudged the body with his foot and said, "Randy, get up, it's over. Please, man, get up."

"Jesus Christ," said Pablo as he and Darius ran forward and dropped to their knees beside the motionless body. Gently they turned him over and gazed down at the bruised face, the eyes closed. "Sir, sir," Pablo said urgently. "Wake up, sir, please ..." Zack stared down numbly at the scene like he was watching a slow-motion train wreck, mumbling, "Get up Randy. Get up."

"Darius, quick, get some water," Pablo urged. Darius sprinted over to a bucket that was full of water, brought it back and poured it over Randy's face. His eyes opened, he coughed and shook his head. He looked up, frowned in confusion and mumbled, "What the fuck? What d'you go and do that for?"

Pablo brushed the water from his face. "Sir, are you OK, sir? Please, look, move your fingers for me." Randy raised his arm with difficulty, wiggled his fingers and said with a week grin, "Like this, you mean?"

"Thank god," Darius murmured. "Yeah," came Zack's shaky voice from above them. "That's good. Yeah, that's good."

Pablo looked up at him. "Sir, he's gonna be alright, but if you don't mind, sir, I think you should leave us alone with him. We'll call Bob and Mark and everything will be OK."

Darius looked up and said, "He's right, sir. I think you should leave."

Zack looked down at them as his head cleared. He knew the boys would never openly criticize a master, but he saw it in their eyes anyway – the look of accusation, disapproval and disappointment. Yeah, they were right. He had to get out of here ... had to get away. With one last look to make sure Randy was OK he turned on his heels and stumbled to the gate, got into his truck drove away.

Focused on driving, his head cleared and gradually the enormity of what he had done overwhelmed him. He was starting to thinking clearly for the first time in weeks, to question his actions. He blinked and shook his head. What had he done? What had he been thinking? And why? Had he been jealous of Randy? Well, Randy had been putting him down, hadn't he? So he had a right to be angry, didn't he? Hell, he was a man, a leader, he couldn't let himself be pushed around.

But then he flashed on the sight of Randy lying beaten in the dirt. And he, Zack, had done that. But he loved Randy, or used to. What had changed – was it him? If only Randy had fought back, they could have settled it in a fair fight and that would be that. Damn him, damn the man!

As he drove up the hill his mind swirled in a mass of conflicting emotions – confusion, guilt, defensiveness, anger ... yes, above all anger. Anger at himself? Anger at Randy, at the tribe, at his whole goddam life? He needed help, he needed to talk. Not Bob, not Mark. They were probably taking care of Randy right now. No, he needed a clear, objective mind. He knew where he had to go.

So he drove up and up into the hills to where the houses became bigger, grander, and finally pulled up at Steve's gate. He didn't stop to buzz the gate. He climbed right over it, strode down the drive, his anger mounting. What the fuck was he doing here? He didn't want to be here, but he had to be. He pounded on the front door and it was opened by Tommy.

"I need to see Steve."

"Sir, Steve and Lloyd are having dinner right now but I'll see if ...

"Don't fuck with me, boy." Zack shoved Tommy aside and he staggered back against a table, knocking it over. Steve appeared and said sternly, "Zack, you do not come into my house and abuse Tommy like that. If you're gonna behave like an animal you can just leave, or I'll call the cops."

"Fuck you, man, I might have known you'd be on his side. You're his fucking brother. You, Bob, Mark, you're all on his side. Well I don't take shit from any of you, I'm bigger than any of you and I just proved that to your loser brother, you can ask him."

"I don't need to, Zack. I just got a phone call from Bob and he told me what happened."

"Sure you did, of course, you're all in this. Did he warn you off me, tell you to throw me out?"

Lloyd appeared from the dining room having heard the commotion. "Are you OK, Steve?" he asked, making a threatening move toward Zack.

"Yeah, yeah, buddy, thanks. I've got it, I can handle this." He turned to Zack who was pacing the floor with clenched fists. "Zack, would you like a drink?"

Zack frowned, taken off guard, and said, "Yeah – Scotch – large."

Steve nodded to Tommy who poured a very large Scotch, straight up, and handed it to Zack. Steve walked to his office door and opened it. "Zack if you would like to bring your drink through to my office I'll be right with you. We'll be completely private in there."

Sullenly Zack went into the office and slumped onto a couch. Steve turned back to the other two and said, "Tommy, I'm real sorry about that. Are you OK?"

"Oh sure, sir. No problem. I'll just set the table back up."

"But will you be OK, buddy?" Lloyd asked Steve.

"Oh sure. I`ve seen guys in a state like this before." Steve chuckled. "Hell, if I can handle my own brother Randy I can surely handle Zack."

"Time for one of those unorthodox therapy treatments you specialize in, eh?" Lloyd grinned.

"Yeah, but this one's complicated. I'll have to come up with a major new remedy this time to make it come right. A guy like Zack is gonna need something real special."

TO BE CONTINUED IN "A Trial Of Strength" – Chapter 358

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

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