Date: Wed, 3 Jun 2015 03:49:29 -0400
From: rw6789@aol.com
Subject: "A Trial Of Strength" - Part 262  by Rob Williams

A TRIAL OF STRENGTH - PART 262
By Rob Williams

IN THIS CHAPTER: Randy transforms Bob from a smart executive to “a
stubble-jawed construction worker in muddy boots, cargo pants and a ragged
tank stained with grease and sweat.” He’s a natural sexual challenge
to boss Randy.  One construction worker ends up fucking the other and
taunting him, “Get it?  There’s only one boss around here, asshole.”
Later Bob catches the twins trying their hand at rough sex.

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

Chapter 262 – “Bob – The New Construction Worker”

As they lay naked in bed Zack and Brandon could hear the waves hissing onto
the shore not far from their motel room.  Brandon was warmly wrapped in the
arms of the leather master, still recovering from the extraordinary sights
he had seen.

Zack had deep homoerotic secrets that he had never shared with anyone until
now.  But seeing a keen intelligence in Brandon, and trusting to his utmost
discretion, he had vented his inner demons and shown the boy how a rugged
alpha male, a top man, sometimes longs deep down to be overpowered by an
equally dominant master.  Himself – in a mirror.

The whole incredible experience had left Brandon stunned, and he was now
catching his breath in Zack’s arms.  But eventually they were able to
relax into easy conversation, where Brandon again surprised Zack with his
intuition and perceptiveness, especially with regard to the men and boys of
the tribe.

Brandon had witnessed the leatherman’s secrets (even taken part in them
in a couple of ride-on cameos) and now Zack smiled warmly at him.  “So
if you’re so goddam smart, kiddo, observing everyone in the house like
you do, what other secrets do you think are brewing?”

“Oh, lots, sir, but because they’re secrets I can’t spill the
beans.  Except maybe for the twins.  Have you noticed how they look at Bob
these days, ever since he let that sexy stubble grow on his chin?  No-one
knows what kind of sex they have with Bob, but I’ve seen a change in
them lately.  They dress differently – not so buttoned-up tighty-whitey.
Their clothes are even a bit ragged sometimes and they both stare a lot at
Randy when he comes off the construction site all sweaty, ripped clothes,
covered in dirt.

“They’d love to see what I saw today, sir – maybe even get into
similar stuff with Bob, I dunno.  ‘Course,” Brandon chuckled,
“they wouldn’t need a mirror – they’re already perfect
reflections of each other.”

“You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you kid, and you may be
right.”

Actually, he was.

But for right now, after humiliating himself to the man in the mirror, Zack
needed to reassert his dominance as a leather master.  “When I’ve
been beaten up like that I just gotta ….

“….you gotta fuck ass, sir?”

“Hell yeah,” Zack grinned.  “I wanna find a boy I can take to bed,
forget all the rough stuff, make love to him and fuck his ass.  But he’s
gotta look on me as the top-man he has to obey at all times.  The boy has
to submit completely.  He has to service me without question – suck my
dick, get fucked in the ass by my big black club as often as I want –
all night if necessary.”

Brandon’s eyes shone.  “Look no further, sir.  You’ve found your
boy.”

“That’s what I was hoping,” Zack grinned.  “‘Course, he’d
have to start right away.”

Brandon rolled over.  “No problem there, sir.  No problem at all.”

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

It was a groggy pair that rode up to a nearby coffee shop next morning and
replenished their stamina with a hearty breakfast and pots of coffee.

Having shared Zack’s deepest secrets in the most uninhibited way there
was a new intimacy between them.  They didn’t talk about the events of
the night before, but each of them knew … and knew that the other knew …
that the bond between them was unique … still master and boy, for sure,
but something private, separate from the usual camaraderie of the tribe.

It was also separate from the still solid master/boy relationship between
Pete and Brandon.  Over breakfast Brandon went on and on about Pete, the
things they did together, the future bike runs they would take together now
he had his new motorcycle.  Watching Brandon’s boyish enthusiasm, his
sparkling eyes, Zack understood just how much the kid loved the handsome
Ranger.  Pete was a lucky man.

Zack felt confident that he had done what Pete had asked him to do – to
expose his boy to new environments and experiences, to broaden his
horizons.  The sex they had shared was part of that, something condoned by
Pete from the start.

The ride back up the coast was even more fun than the way down, given the
closeness they felt.  And Zack was right about Pete who was at the gate to
welcome them home.  The boys, of course, mobbed Brandon and although
Darius, as always, prodded him to “spill the beans, dude, all of them,”
the boy kept Zack’s secret to himself as the leatherman knew he would.

Pete smiled at Brandon’s center-stage exuberance and turned to shake
Zack’s hand.  “Man I gotta thank you big time.  The kid’s
obviously had a terrific time and – look at him – there’s a whole
new spirit to him – he’s glowing.  I don’t know what you did down
there and I suspect I’ll never know all of it.  I don’t even want to
know and I won’t ask Brandon.  It’s between you and him – and
Darius, of course.  I assume you tell him everything.”

Actually Zack didn’t, and Pete’s casual remark made him wince.  In
the motel, after Zack had treated Brandon to that homoerotic display of his
secret sexual yearnings, Brandon had shyly urged him to share it all with
Darius too.  And now, as the chatter died, Zack looked over at Brandon and
winked.  Then he grabbed Darius’s arm and said, “Come with me, boy.
I got a story to tell you.”

As they left Pete said, “If you boys can see your way to releasing
Brandon, I gotta get reacquainted with my boy.”

“So that’s what they’re calling it these days,” giggled Eddie,
then realized he had gone too far with the Ranger.  His eyes opened wide
and he said, “Sorry, sir.  I’ll zip it.” He drew closed fingertips
across tight lips, turning them at the end like a key.” As Pete stifled
a grin, Brandon revved up his bike’s engine and drove slowly up the hill
with Pete jogging beside him.

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

Another man who had been watching the festivities closely was Bob –
specifically his twins, Kyle and Kevin, who had not been as boisterous as
the other boys.  They hung back on the sidelines, glancing at each other,
then staring at Zack and Brandon in their leather pants and vests.  It even
occurred to Bob that they had dressed for the occasion, wearing old
sleeveless shirts he had never seen before instead of their usual pristine
white T-shirts or Polo shirts.

“Those bikers look great don’t they?” Bob said to them, reading
their thoughts.  But he sensed a restlessness in them, almost a longing.
Later he broached the subject with Randy when he came home from the
building site and they were sitting in their apartment with pre-dinner
drinks – Bob sipping wine, Randy gulping back beer.  Bob was still in
his smart business clothes, though he had removed his jacket.  Randy of
course was in his usual grimy work clothes.

Bob described the expression in the twins’ eyes, a look he had noticed
several times lately.  “Any thoughts, Randy?”

After another gulp of beer the gypsy wiped the back of his hand across his
mouth and said gruffly, “It’s obvious what they want if they’re
looking at Zack and the boy like that.  You gotta dirty them up a bit,
man.”

“Dirty them up?”

“Yeah, look at my boy Pablo – never so happy as when he’s in those
greasy dungarees of his, face smeared with oil.  Even happier when I call
him into the trailer, pull down his pants, spread him face down over the
drawing board and fuck his ass.”

A bit shocked at the comparison Bob said, “But my twins are not like
that.”

“No, that’s my point.  Trouble is they take their cue from you in
your fancy business suits, button-down white shirts and ties.”

I’m an executive,” Bob protested.  “I gotta keep up appearances.”

“And I don’t?!” Rand spread his arms out displaying his
oil-stained tank top and filthy cargo pants.  “My men respect me like
this.  Only difference between you and me is that keeping up appearances
for you means changing your shirt twice a day.  Me, I wear my fucking shirt
for two fucking weeks.”

“Yeah, and when you come home from work you stink of sweat, like you do
now.”

“Never heard you complain, asshole.” He got up and wrapped his arm
round Bob’s head, pressing his stinking arm-pit into his face, making
him choke on the rancid taste and smell of the wiry wet hair.  Bob pushed
Randy away and said, “Don’t, man, you’ll muss up my shirt.  I’m
not in the mood – got things on my mind.” He immediately knew he had
said the wrong thing – he’d said no to sex.  No one ever did that to
Randy – like a red rag to a raging bull.

Randy towered over him and roared, “Not in the mood?  Not in the fucking
mood?  Who the fuck you think you’re talking to man?” He grabbed the
back of Bob’s neck, pulled him out of his chair and forced him to the
ground in front of the mirror.  “On your knees mother fucker.” Bob
knew it was hopeless to resist.  And anyway, as he saw Randy’s blazing
eyes in the mirror, saw him rip open his pants and pull out his beer-can
cock, resistance was the last thing on his mind.

Randy knelt behind him, roughly yanked Bob’s pants and shorts down below
his ass and spat on his cock.  Randy didn’t do foreplay.  He pushed his
rod between Bob’s cheeks and drove it savagely down his chute, deep in
his ass.  Ignoring his howls he pushed Bob’s shirt up over his back.
“I’ll muss up your fucking shirt alright … mess up your ass too.”

>From behind Randy planted his hands on Bob’s shoulders, feet on the
floor so his body arched over him, the only other point of contact his
massive piston pounding his ass.

“Keeping up appearances, eh?  Well appearances can be deceptive,
asshole. Look at the business executive now, getting his ass ploughed by
the gypsy construction boss.  Not in the mood eh?  Things on your mind?
Well now you got a thing in your ass too – my dick – so what’s the
smart-ass executive in the mood for now, eh?

“I want your dick in my ass.  Fuck me, sir.  Fuck my ass.  I’m sorry
for what I said.  Punish my ass.” Randy took him at his word and
jackhammered his butt with one of his legendary fucks.  Sometimes Randy
would ease up and fuck gently.  Not this time.  This time the caveman had
crawled out of his lair.

He was, in fact, punishing Bob.  Randy was not used to guys rejecting him –
never happened – but when Bob, of all people, did it with his “not in
the mood” it struck at the heart of Randy’s insecurity and fear of
losing Bob.  It was just a casual phrase but it triggered Randy’s
instincts of self-preservation and he fought back like the street fighter
he was.

Relentlessly pile-driving Bob’s ass Randy growled, “Feel that, big
guy?  That’s what you get when you say no to me.  Your ass is mine, and
I take it whenever I damn well want, is that clear?”
  
“Yes, sir,” the muscular businessman groaned on his hands and knees.
The fuck was not only savage, it seemed endless and Bob knew he was
reaching his limit.  “Aaagh …. You’re killing my ass, man.  I
can’t take any more.  You’re ripping me open.  Please cum in my ass.
Please, sir,” he yelled.

“You begging me, Superman?  You want my jizz in your butt?  You gonna
keep it there all night, lubed up for when I fuck it again?”

“Yes, sir!” Bob looked up into the mirror and saw the laser blue eyes
staring back at him from the dark gypsy face.  The image of the wild savage
fucking his ass drove him over the edge and … “Aaagh”.  Bob’s
cock shuddered and exploded onto the floor beneath him as Randy speared his
ass one last time and poured sperm deep in his gut.

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

Bob was dazed, his head slumped down, staring at the pool of semen beneath
him.  He felt a stab of pain as the huge cock was yanked out of his butt.
He looked up and saw Randy get to his feet, pull his shirt off and use it
to wipe the sweat off his face and body and the cum dripping from his cock.
He threw the stinking wet tank on the floor, grabbed his beer and sprawled
in his chair.  “OK,” he said matter-of-factly, “now about those
boys of yours.”

It was stunning – the man was back to business as if he had just paused
to scratch his ass.  “That’s it?” Bob said.  “Slam bam thank
you man, ‘now about those boys of yours’?  You’re just a damn fuck
machine, you know that?”
 
“Listen, asshole,” Randy said, pointing his bottle at him for
emphasis, “you push me away with your fucking ‘not in the mood’
bullshit and that’s what you get.  See, I’m the boss around here, get
it?  I don’t wanna have to remind you again.”

“I wish you would,” Bob grinned.

Randy’s face broke into a smile.  “Asshole.  Now for God’s sake
get up, take off that poncy suit and let’s get back to business.” Bob
stripped down to his boxer shorts, sat down and poured himself another
glass of wine.

“See,” Randy said, “I know just what those boys need from you and
I’ll help you give it to them.  OK … you remember that time when you
climbed on your soapbox and fed me some bullshit about teambuilding in the
Company, how we should all get to know each other’s jobs better?  Some
crap about doing each other’s job for a day to get a ‘feel’ for
it.”

“It wasn’t bullshit,” Bob retorted.  “It’s basic “Staff
Management 101.”

“Whatever.” Randy flipped his hand and dismissed the idea like
swatting away a fly. “Like I said, executive bullshit.  But it did give
me an idea.”

Bob narrowed his eyes.  “Does this mean you’re gonna come work in the
office for a day?”

“Yeah right,” said Randy scornfully, “like I’m gonna climb into
a poncing suit and tie and punch a keyboard in your office all day?
Listen, buddy, I built that office for you guys and that’s as far as I
go.  No, I was thinking more about you.  You don’t know shit about what
really goes on at the constructions site.  About time you found out …
get your hands dirty for a change.

“You mean work on your crew for a day, with you as the boss?”

Randy grinned, “The hot executive becomes a construction worker?  Gotta
admit, it has a kind of ring to it.  Shit, in the lunch break I might even
call you into the trailer office like I do Pablo and … well, I told you
what happens to him.  Don’t pretend you’re not tempted, man.”

Bob frowned, “Tempted or not, what in God’s name does this have to do
with the twins?”

“Plenty.  But don’t sweat it, man, that’ll all happen naturally.
Trust me, buddy, those kids already worship the ground you walk on.  Soon
they’ll be kissing it.” His blue eyes smiled seductively.  “You do
trust me, buddy, don’t you?”

Bob stared at him, shook his head and murmured, “Son of a bitch.”
Dammit, he was tempted, and besides, no one ever says no to Randy.  He had
tried that just now and look how that turned out.

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

Word of the experiment percolated out to the tribe pretty fast, especially
when Darius heard of it.  He fingered his camera, intent on taking it to
work and recording the scene for ‘prosperity’ as he would say.  The
idea was pitched as an experiment that, if successful, would be extended to
some of the others.  That was greeted with much enthusiasm, especially by
the three amigos, Eddie, Ben and Brandon whose imaginations kicked into
overdrive.

“Wow,” said Eddie, “I’ll switch with you, Ben, and work a day
as a mechanic.  Then when I come home I’ll have to get my ass ploughed
by your fireman Jason.

“Cool,” said Ben, “and after doing your job cleaning house all day
I’d have to spend the night with Hassan.  I could go for mixing it up
with that stud Marine.”

“Yeah, but think about this, dudes,” Brandon said.  “Which of you
wants to spend the day in a wheelchair working in the office with Jamie and
Bob, then going home and giving your ass to Ranger Pete?”

Two eager hands shot in the air.

Randy took the idea more seriously in a short meeting with Zack, Darius,
Pablo and Ben, the four guys who worked with him on the building site.
“Now I want you to treat it like any other day,” Randy said.

“I know Bob’s a director of the Company and all, and he’s …
well, he’s Bob … but this kind of stuff was suggested by him in the
first place – some kind of Management 101 bullsh ….” He checked
himself as Zack glared a warning at him.  “ ….. management bulleting
that he’s studied.  Anyway, you’re to treat him like any other crew
member so he can really get a feel for what you all do.  I think I’ll
assign him first to the mechanics pool.  Pablo, Ben, what’ll you be
working on tomorrow?”

“That truck that’s out of commission ‘cos it’s leaking oil all
over the place,” Pablo said.

“Leaking oil,” Randy mused.  “Good, yeah, leaking oil’s good.”
Zack caught the glint in his eye.

The next morning Randy was to drive Bob to the site in his truck.  He nixed
Bob’s Mercedes as creating the wrong impression if it purred up to the
site.  “You’re one of the guys, buddy, not the hotshot executive in a
top-of-the-line Merc.  And while we’re at it those jeans have to go.
Shit, they’re brand new and they’ve got a fucking crease pressed down
the front.  Here, try these.  They’re something I wear for best.”

“For best?!” Bob winced as Randy threw him a pair of old cargo pants,
maybe not quite as bad as the ones Randy was wearing, but still, stained
with dirt and what Bob felt sure were cum stains – a result, no doubt,
of Randy’s lunchtime trailer sessions with Pablo.  He changed into the
pants and Randy stroked his chin as he surveyed his new employee.

In addition to the pants and boots, Bob was wearing a white tank top under
a sleeveless denim shirt open over his chest.  With the five-day growth of
stubble on his chin, his tousled dark hair, not to mention his square-jawed
Superman features and smoking hot physique, he looked spectacular and Randy
had trouble hiding the huge boner in his pants.  Wouldn’t do to let on
to a new employee that the boss was so turned on the first thing he wanted
to do was fuck him.

“Yeah,” Randy faked nonchalance, “not bad.  The tank’s too
clean, so are you, but we’ll soon take care of that.”

Not much liking the sound of that Bob followed Randy out to his truck.

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

Bob’s arrival on the site was greeted with some surprise by the crew.
They had often seen him there as a Company Director, the man who issued
their pay-checks, but they were used to him in a suit – they had never
seen him like this before.  But they took it in stride and correctly
assumed that it was just what it looked like, one of the bosses getting a
hands-on feel for the work they did.  A few were nervous he had come to do
some kind of management study on them, but they got over that as soon as
the easy-going Bob settled in and became one of them.

As promised, Bob’s first assignment was to the motor pool.  Randy went
with hm to check out the problem truck and said to Pablo, “Kid, I need
this truck back on line pronto – we got a lotta stuff to haul.  So fix
the damn oil leak.  Bob here can give you a hand.” As he turned to go he
winked at Pablo, unseen by the others.

Pablo and Ben opened the hood and bent their heads over the engine.  “I
think the problem’s that valve down there,” said Pablo’s muffled
voice.  He pulled back and said to Bob, “Sir, would you slide under the
truck and tell me if the leak gets better or worse when I adjust this
valve?” It seemed odd calling Bob sir when Pablo was ostensibly his
temporary boss, but Bob would always be sir to him.

Bob, being probably the most secure man in the tribe, seemed to have no
problem with any of it.  He lay on his back, slid under the truck and right
away saw the oil dripping on the ground.  He wriggled under it to get a
close-up view and immediately saw a worn seal.  But just at that moment the
drip got worse.  “Worse,” Bob yelled up to Pablo.  The drip became a
stream.  “Much worse,” he yelled.  “Other way – other way!”

The leak diminished to almost nothing and Bob pulled out and jumped to his
feet.  Pablo and Ben gaze at him, his face shoulders and arms streaked with
oil, not to mention his clothes.  “It wasn’t the valve,” Bob said,
“there’s a leaky seal.  But you knew that already, didn’t you?”
Bob fixed him with a steely look that made Pablo wither.

“Ah, never mind.  You two were only carrying out orders I guess,”
flashing a glare at Randy in the distance, recalling his words ‘dirty
them up’.  “Shit this oil’s everywhere.” He pulled off the
denim shirt and used it to wipe the oil off his white tank, succeeding only
in spreading it and rubbing it in deeper.  The two boys gazed at Bob open
mouthed.  They had never seen him like this.  He looked like a real
mechanic, with oil on his face, neck and arms, and spread over his formerly
white tank.

Bob didn’t care what he looked like.  He felt irritation rising up in a
slow burn.  “So why are you just standing there?  You want me to get
under there again and fix the seal?”

“No, sir, of course not sir,” said a chastened Ben.  “I’ll do
it.” As he went to work on it Randy came over and Pablo said, “We
found the problem, sir – at least Bob found it – broken seal.”

“Good job, said Randy.  “That’s all I wanted.”

“Are you sure that’s all you wanted?” Bob said, fixing Randy with
a look that Randy recognized and always flinched from.  But he recovered
himself and said.  “Maybe you should take a look at what Zack and Darius
are working on – that old shed they’re tearing down.”

“Whatever you say, man.  You’re the boss,” Bob said, not meaning a
word of it.  With another withering look at Randy he turned and strode over
to the other side of the site where Zack and Darius were in a partially
dismantled shed, reaching up to the old metal roof and tugging on it.
“Randy said you guys could use a hand,” Bob said.

“Sure thing,” Zack smiled, “It’s coming loose and a bit more
muscle should do the trick.  And you sure got the muscle, buddy.” Bob
joined them, tugging at the corrugated iron panels above them.  It took a
while and a lot of muscle, but the roof finally gave up the fight and caved
in, showering the three of them with dust and debris that had gathered on
the roof over time.  They stepped back coughing and wiping dust from their
eyes.

“Shit damn,” said Zack brushing down his bare chest while Bob shook
the dirt from his tangled hair, “that was one messy job.” Bob
grinned, “You can say that again,” looking down at the dirt clinging
to his greasy tank and arms.  “Any more jobs like that?”

“Unfortunately yes,” Zack said.  “You chose the right day to come,
buddy – or wrong day, perhaps I should say.  It’s teardown day
…. see, all that lot has to go.  Stick with us, Bob, and we’ll show
you how the other half lives.”

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

And so the morning went on, with Bob working amiably with Zack and Darius
on one mucky job after another.  He didn’t complain, even when he had to
crawl through a pipe and clear it of rubble.  When he emerged, his tank top
was a mess, ripped in several places.  The midday sun beat down on them and
sweat was pouring down their dirt-covered bodies by the time the whistle
went for the lunch break.

Zack and Darius grabbed bottles of water and Zack threw one to Bob.
Thankfully Bob pulled off the top and went to sip it, but Zack shook his
head and laughed.  He and Darius raised their bottles up high and poured
the contents over their heads.

Bob watched the water stream over their faces and shirtless bodies and it
looked so cooling (not to mention seriously sexy) that he did the same.  He
felt the soothing effect of cold water soaking his hair, pouring over his
face, his stubbled chin and drenching the ragged tank stretched over his
chest.  Any glimpse of white was long since obliterated by oil and grease,
and the water left it streaked a dirty gray and stinking of sweat.

Darius grabbed his camera and focused it on Bob.  “Sir, I gotta get a
shot of that.  You look totally amazing.” Zack grinned, “Yup, one of
the guys alright, except hotter than any of them with dirt running over
those shoulders and biceps.” He chuckled.  “Man, I could sure make a
meal of that in my lunch break.”

At that moment another man was having exactly the same thoughts.  Randy was
staring through the window of his trailer office at Bob in the distance, so
turned on that he instinctively pulled his dick out of his pants and
stroked it slowly, careful not to bust a load just gazing at his lover –
the preppy, buttoned down executive with his chiseled Superman looks now
transformed into a grimy construction worker.  “Fucking pornographic,”
Randy moaned.

His animal instinct reared up, overcoming any sense of restraint or
finesse.  Those words meant nothing to him – but he did know what he
wanted.  He yanked open the door and yelled, “Hey, Bob, get your ass in
here.” Bob, Zack and Darius exchanged looks and Darius grinned,
“That’s the boss ordering lunch, sir.  I guess that lets Pablo’s
ass off the hook for once.  Good luck, sir.”

“See you later guys,” Bob smiled and walked over to the trailer.
Inside he found Randy sprawled in a chair, sipping a beer and looking
pleased with himself, his hand resting on the bulge in his pants.

Randy always had a touch of arrogance and the only insecurity he ever felt
was being outshone by Bob’s stunning looks, his business success and his
breeding.  But here, on the construction site, was where Randy ruled.  It
was his world, and his ego soared as lord of his domain, the undisputed
boss.  He owned the men on his crew including, for today, Bob, it seemed.

“Man,” Randy said, stroking his bulge, “you look so fucking hot
like that.  I knew you would once we dirtied you up.  Now you’re just
one of the grunts, and I usually break the new ones in – one way or
another.  And there’s only one way with a stud like you.” He stood up
and ran his hands over the filthy tank clinging to Bob’s chest.  “Oh
yeah, perfect … you really get my hormones racing … and I told you
how I spend my lunch break.  But this time there’s no Pablo – only
you, big guy.”

Facing Randy, his resentment mounting, Bob caught sight of himself in the
wall-mounted mirror.  He was amazed at his reflection – a rugged
construction worker, just like Randy – just as dirty, just as muscular –
and just as tough.  Randy was ripping open his own pants and pulling out
his massive cock.  “See this here?  This is what I use to break in new
recruits.  You know what to do, stud…. bend over the table and spread
‘em.”

He grabbed the back of Bob’s neck,shoved him face down on the drafting
table and kicked his legs apart.  Bob spread his arms, held onto the edges
of the table and braced himself.  It was business as usual – Randy, the
rugged alpha male, the macho gypsy on top of his game, dominating the
clean-cut, compliant Bob like he owned his ass.

But this time, as Bob looked in the mirror and saw Randy spit on his cock
preparing to penetrate him, there was something wrong with this picture.
It wasn’t Bob, the near naked businessman waiting to get his clean white
boxers ripped off and his ass ploughed.  This was a hot, muscular
construction worker, tough, dirty, sweaty, a match for any arrogant
muscle-hunk laborer – including Randy.

Adrenaline raced through him and he twisted round, grabbed Randy’s neck
and shoved him across the room and against the wall.  “What the fuck?”
Randy sputtered, the wind knocked out of him.  Bob’s stubbled jaw
clenched as he stared at the startled blue eyes.  “So that was your
plan, eh, stud?  Get your guys to ‘dirty me up’ as you call it so you
can get your rocks off by ramming the almighty club in my ass and show me
who’s boss.  Man you sure know how to humiliate a guy.”

He let go of Randy’s neck, took a few steps back, held his arms out to
the side and snarled, “Look at me, man … look at this … this is
what you created, ‘bossman’.  But maybe you overplayed your hand,
‘cos what you created ain’t some patsy who’s just gonna follow
orders, bend over and take it up the butt.  Look at this, asshole.”

Bob raised his arms and flexed in a couple of bodybuilder poses, his
oil-streaked muscles rippling under his sweaty, ripped tank, his chiseled
features, dark disheveled hair – an impossibly homoerotic icon of a stud
construction worker ripped from a porn magazine.  Randy’s breath became
ragged as he stared wide-eyed at a Bob he had never seen before.

Bob grabbed Randy’s pulsing dick and grinned mockingly.  “Yeah, turn
you on big time, eh, boss?  This man’s you’re equal, big guy, and you
want him bad.  See those two construction guys in the mirror.  One of them
is going down … and it sure as hell ain’t gonna be me.”

Still clenching Randy’s pulsing club he dragged him across the room by
his cock.  “For once in your life, bossman, you’re gonna be the one
spread over the table …. and I won’t even have to force you.  Look at
me, man – look at my eyes.”

Randy had no choice but to obey.  He had been totally blown away by the
spectacle of this incredible man asserting his masculinity and he now
withered under the blazing eyes.  It was not a question of physical
strength now – though it would have been a doozy of a fight.  All
Randy’s swaggering arrogance had been knocked out of him … he was no
longer the boss.  He had met his match in this new guy on the crew and he
knew it.

He bent over the table as Bob had done, gripping the edges, spreading his
legs.  He felt his pants being tugged down below his ass and turned his
head to look in the mirror.  He moaned as he saw the dark-haired, muscular
workman pull out his cock, spit on it as Randy had just done and loom over
him.

No foreplay, no finesse, just “Aaaagh!” Randy screamed as the
man’s cock speared his ass, pulled back and drove in again … and
again.  In a haze of pain and ecstasy Randy knew he was getting the brutal
treatment he had dished out so often, getting it from a man who looked just
like him – a rugged construction boss in cargo pants and a filthy, torn
tank.

Bob had never fucked him like this.  He had been rough before but never
this relentless, pile-driving the gypsy’s ass, sending flashes of pain
though his body as he braced against the merciless cock.  The agonizing
drilling of his ass seemed to last an eternity, the howls of triumph from
above him, the sweat dripping onto his back.  It would have been unbearable
but for the sight of the spectacular man in the mirror, muscles rippling as
his oily body slammed down on him.

Determined not to give up Randy flexed against the brutal onslaught on his
ass.  But even he had his limits and he was about to beg when he felt an
arm curve round his neck and he was pulled to his feet at an angle to the
mirror so he could see Bob pounding his ass from behind.  He felt his legs
go weak, they buckled, and he and Bob sank to their knees.

And still the relentless fuck.  Bob’s muscular arm was still clamped
round Randy’s neck, holding him upright on his knees to watch himself
get fucked in the ass.  They stared at each other in the mirror, their eyes
burning in the recognition of mutual power and lust.

“You’ve had enough,” Bob said at last.  “I wanna see the
construction boss submit to his new crewman by pumping jizz all over
himself.  So here’s what you’re gonna do.  You’re gonna grab that
thick rod of yours, and when I give the order, you point it at the man in
the mirror and shoot.” Randy nodded in total subservience.  “Yes,
sir.”

Bob increased the intensity of his fuck to a fever pitch, Randy pounded his
cock in his fist …. Then, “Now!” The second Bob gave the word
Randy felt his lover’s juice slamming into his ass and his own cock
exploded in a shower of cum that hit the mirror and ran down the image of
the broken construction boss.

When Bob pulled out and stood up Randy fell forward exhausted onto the
floor.  Bob hooked his boot under Randy and flipped him over on his back.
Towering over him he flicked the last drops of cum from his cock onto the
dark, stubbled face.  Bob taunted him by throwing Randy’s own words back
at him.  “Just so you know, asshole, I’m the boss around here, get
it?  And I don’t wanna have to remind you again.”

Bob stuffed his cock back in his pants, pulled open the door and went back
to business as casually as Randy had done earlier.  As he came out of the
trailer he was zipping up his pants.  He paused, pulled off his stinking
tank and used it to wipe the sweat from his face and chest.  He stuffed it
in his back pocket and strode shirtless over to an astonished Zack and
Darius.  “OK, guys, let’s get back to work.  We’re damn well not
gonna let a fucking shed beat us”

Zack grinned at him. “He deserved that, buddy.” Bob smiled, “No
Zack, he needed it.  I know my man.” He glanced back at the trailer and
saw Randy’s face at the window.

Randy had watched Bob stride across the site as if nothing had happened.
As he saw Bob strip off his shirt, shove it in his pocket and give his
orders, Randy was seeing himself, the boss.  And this boss too, on his
lunch break, had gone into the trailer, fucked a man across the desk, then
wiped off his cock and gone back to work.

With his pants still round his feet Randy stroked his cock that was already
getting stiff.  His ass was still burning, his body still on fire as he
watched Bob join his men.

“Son of a bitch,” he grinned.

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

Work progressed steadily after that and, when Randy finally came out of his
office he paced around giving orders as always, though his manner was less
abrasive than usual – somewhat subdued, the men thought.  Zack exchanged
knowing looks with Bob, while the three boys, Pablo, Darius and Ben found
time to gossip.  It wasn’t hard to guess what had happened, judging by
Bob’s swagger and Randy’s restrained attitude that bordered on
civilized for once.

“That was a turn-up for the books, Darius said.  “Hard to tell
who’s the boss around here anymore.”

“Bullshit,” said Pablo, always loyal to his adoptive dad.
“Randy’s the boss.  Always has been, always will be.”

“Pity you didn’t get it on video, Darius,” Ben chimed in.
“Maybe they’ll do a replay for you.”

“Nah,” Darius said, “there’s no second takes on a scene like
that.  But I did get Bob going into the trailer and coming out.  What’s
the saying?  In like a lamb, out like a lion?”

Just then the lion growled.  “What’s this guys, afternoon tea?  Does
the word ‘work’ mean anything to you?  Get to it.” Surprised by
Bob’s gruffness the boys looked questioningly at Zack who grinned and
shrugged helplessly.  “Better do what the boss says, boys.”

Randy steered clear of Bob for the rest of the afternoon, though Bob often
caught him gazing at him with love or lust in his eyes, Bob couldn’t
tell.  Probably both.  But before the end of the shift Randy finally pulled
him aside.

“Just for the record, buddy, what I did this morning – turning you
into a real live construction worker, with that face and body smothered in
oil and dirt – I did it for you, not just to get my rocks off.  Although
….” he grinned and looked down at his bulging crotch.  “I told you
I’d help you give those twins of yours what they want.  I suggest you
cut out of here and pay them a visit.  Here, take my truck,” tossing the
keys to him.

Bob smiled, “Thanks, buddy.” He pulled on his tank that was almost
dry by now, though still ragged and filthy hanging on his muscular torso.
Randy stared at him and murmured, “Oh, shit,” his hand moving
mechanically down to the bulge in his own pants.  As Bob turned to go Randy
cleared his throat and said tentatively, “Er, Bob …. any chance of
you and me, like, getting together before dinner?”

Bob laughed.  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, boss, you know that.”

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

When Bob got home the houseboys Nate and Eddie were emerging from cleaning
Mark’s apartment.  Jamie and Brandon had just closed the office for the
day and were in the garden with Pablo’s dog Billy.  The construction
site was the one place Pablo couldn’t take Billy, for safety reasons,
and on those days the dog kept close to Brandon, instinctively protecting
him.

When they heard Randy’s truck pull up the boys expected Randy to make
his customary swaggering entrance.  But this time Nate dug a distracted
Eddie in the ribs and said, “Eddie, Eddie, check it out, dude.”

Eddie looked up and gasped, “Holy shitballs …. fuck me with a
broom…..”

All four boys gazed at the amazing sight.  Every day they had seen Bob come
home from his corporate office, the handsome executive in his elegantly
tailored suit.  But this was an instant hard-on – the muscle-god
construction worker in muddy boots, cargo pants and a torn, sweaty tank
covered in dirt and grease.  His tousled dark hair hung over his face,
sweat trickled down into the stubble of his square jaw, down his neck and
the oil-streaked muscles of his arms and shoulders.  It was like Superman
emerging from a knock-down drag-out fight.

Billy’s reaction was instantaneous.  He growled threateningly and
Brandon had to hold him back by the collar.  “Sorry, sir,” Brandon
grinned, “but he doesn’t recognize you.  Probably thinks you’re
one of those construction workers who’s been beaten up by Randy and come
for revenge.”

“Well,” Bob smiled, “actually that’s not so far off the mark
given the day I’ve had.”

All the boys had their fantasies.  That was Brandon’s, and Eddie
followed up with his.  “Can’t blame Billy, sir …. you look like …
like a roughneck from an oil rig who hasn’t had sex in weeks and has
come here to grab a boy and fuck him gutless for days and days.”

Nate sighed and raised his eyebrows as a warning to Eddie.  He heard stuff
like this all day as he worked with the boy and his oversexed imagination.
Bob walked toward Billy and held out the back of his hand.  Getting the
scent Billy licked the hand, whimpered and wagged his tail.

“Good, I’ve made my peace with Billy, but I’m sorry to disappoint
you boys and your fantasies – I’m just a working guy come home to see
his boys.  Where are the twins by the way?”

Jamie answered warily, “Er, at the moment I think they’re down in the
basement, sir.”

Eddie’s eyes sparkled.  “But if I were you I wouldn’t go there,
sir.  Bad idea.”

Bob shot him that imperious look that could freeze even Randy.  “But
I’m not you, am I Eddie?”

“No, sir.  Far from it.  OK, I know, sir – sorry, sir, out of line.”
Eddie pursed his lips and, in his trademark gesture of silence, ran his
fingertips along his lips and twisted them at the corner of his mouth like
turning a key, just as he had earlier with Pete.  It was a move that always
amused Bob, but now he managed to keep a straight face as he said, “You
really gotta watch that mouth of yours, kid.”

Eddie opened his mouth to respond but Bob raised a cautionary finger and he
clamped his lips shut again, looking up at Bob wide-eyed.  Stifling the
urge to laugh Bob said, “OK, I’m going down to see my boys.  Randy
and the guys will be back from work soon so make sure everything’s
ready.  You know how Randy can be.”

(But not as well as I do, he grinned to himself.)

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

The twins had been in the basement playroom for some time.  It was a
magical room for them, with the mirrors all around them reflecting two
beautiful identical twins to infinity.  But they were in a specific mood
today, playing out a fantasy that had been building for several weeks,
especially after seeing Randy, Zack, Mark and Pete take their boys on a
motorbike run, most of them in leather.

They always took their cue from Bob and dressed neatly in a way that showed
off their tanned, youthful physiques to their best.  The raciest it ever
got was on festive occasions where they served dinner wearing only their
white bib overalls over their otherwise naked bodies.

But they had often heard Randy’s phrase “dirty him up a bit”, and
they were ready for a bit of rough sex themselves.  They were embarrassed
to mention it to Bob so they had taken this opportunity of his day-long
absence on the construction site to spend a couple of hours in the
basement, acting out their fantasies on each other.

They were doing their best.  Having spent much of their lives alone
together they were no strangers to sex with each other.  They loved each
other and even the mere sight of their brother turned them on.  As they
stared at each other they had the thrill of knowing that their twin was
seeing exactly the same thing.  So this magical room was perfect for them
with their reflections endlessly repeated.

The room was redolent of man-sex and they had the added turn-on of the pile
of sex clothes and toys in the corner of the room – torn shirts, ragged
shorts, leather, restraints, whips….  They had spent long minutes
plundering the pile and had come up with black leather pants that fit.
They admired each other from every angle in the mirrors, kissed each other
and had even begun their usual vanilla sex when they stopped abruptly.
That is not what they came for.

So now here they were, taking faltering steps into the not-too-familiar
world of bondage and sexual domination.  Randy had once given them lessons
on ropes and knots, emphasizing safety above all, with his famous escape
knot and the use of safe words.

Kevin was the chosen victim today.  He was wearing a torn white shirt
tucked into the leather pants.  One of the sleeves was torn off, the other
hung in sheds, and the ripped shirt was open almost to the waist, showing
his perfectly shaped pecs.  His arms were raised, tied to ropes that hung
down from one of the ceiling beams, stretching his lithe, muscular body.

They had concocted an elaborate fantasy about a prisoner of the
Inquisition, a handsome young nobleman in tight leather pants and a white
shirt undergoing interrogation, his clothes getting shredded as he is
tortured.  His inquisitor was Kyle, who had found a leather harness in the
pile and wore it crossed over his bare chest.

However, having set up the fantasy, the boys were not sure how to play it
out.  Kyle had a whip and attempted a snarl that wouldn’t have scared a
rabbit.  He lightly whipped his brother across the chest threatening all
kinds of horrors if the prisoner did not confess – “We have ways of
making a coward like you talk.”

Obviously he needed help punching up the script.  Currently it sounded like
a send-up of a bad B-movie and made Kevin want to laugh more than flinch.
Kyle eventually abandoned the role of snarling bad guy and they took refuge
in their comfort zone of affection.  Holding the whip limply at his side
Kyle approached and pressed their bodies together.  Their lips touched and
they began to make love.  Until…..

“What the fuck…?!!”

They whirled round and gasped in disbelief.  They hardly recognized Bob
under the red spotlights, a pornographic vision of a ruggedly handsome
construction worker – sweaty, filthy, with a greasy tank hanging ragged
over his muscled torso.

Actually Bob had been standing in the shadows at the bottom of the stairs
watching his boys’ fumbling attempts at fantasy and his heart went out
to them.  He caught sight of himself in a mirror and suddenly he knew what
Randy had meant.  Randy had sensed what the twins wanted – rough sex –
and he had molded Bob into the prefect icon of male domination (with Randy
getting his own rocks off in the process.)

Bob strode over to the stunned boys and growled, “What the fuck’s
going on here?  Were you two getting off on each other – two brothers?
That’s fucking weird … one of you tied up and the other holding a
whip.  What we got here, a little bondage and domination scene going on,
eh?” Hey, if you want a bit of the rough you gotta know how to do it.
Look at me, assholes.  You want it rough, you come to me.”

“Yes, sir,” they said in unison, not sure if Bob was talking
punishment or just getting into the scene.  The sight of him looking
rougher and sexier than they had ever seen him made them not care what he
had in mind …. they wanted it.  All of it.

Bob picked up the whip Kyle had dropped and said, “What is this anyway,
the Inquisition?” And you, boy, are under interrogation?” He flicked
the whip at Kevin’s chest, stinging his pecs exposed under the open
shirt.  “I asked you a question, boy.”

“Yes, sir … that was it, sir.  But Kyle didn’t know…..”

“Enough!  Godammit you guys gotta learn what torture really feels like.”
He walked over to the many pieces of equipment hanging on the wall and
picked out the items he needed.  First came the rope that he used to tie up
Kyle just like his brother, his arms stretched up to another rafter so they
faced each other a few feet apart.

He picked up a set of tit clamps joined by a chain and clamped them over
Kyle’s nipples.  They were of moderate strength, not serrated, so the
pain was titillating rather than harsh.  Next he tied a cord tight round
the base of Kyle’s scrotum making his cock get rock hard and his balls
bulge.  He did the same things to Kevin, then picked up two ropes to
complete his plan.

A few minutes later he stood back to review his work and nodded with
satisfaction.  “Now that’s more like it.” The twins were trembling
with excitement so intense that it overcame their fear.  The two ropes were
stretched between them, linking them in a classic bondage scenario.  The
upper rope stretched between the chains of the tit clamps.  The ends of the
lower rope were attached to the cord round their balls.

Bob had made the ropes just tight enough to cause discomfort rather than
pain, but the result was that, tied by their arms, the twins arched their
bodies forward to relieve the stress on each other’s chest and balls.
Each gazed into the other’s eyes enraptured by the sight of his brother
tied to him in a stress position, so that if either moved they felt each
other’s pain equally.

“Now,” Bob said, “let’s see if you’re up to this.” He had
put a collar round Kyle’s neck with a rope attached.  Now, standing
behind him, Bob gave short tugs on the rope, jerking the boy backward so
the ropes joining them tightened and jerked their tits and balls.  Bob was
a master at this (he had been well taught by Randy) and knew exactly how
much pressure to exert to taunt and torment the boys.

The boys were in ecstasy, watching the boy facing him get tortured in
exactly the same way he was – the same pain, same grimace on the same
face, same body stretched and arched in the same way.  They turned their
heads sideways and saw the pornographic scene reflected again and again to
infinity – two beautiful young brothers in leather pants getting
tortured by a rugged construction worker fresh off the job site and
smothered in oil and grease.

Bob decided to increase the pressure.  He pulled Kyle further back and
watched their faces contort as the discomfort turned to pain.  “You know
I can make my prisoners do whatever I want, don’t you?”

“Yes sir,” they yelled in unison.  “OK.  See I have a hankering to
force two handsome, macho brothers like you have sex with each other.  You
think I can make you do that?”

They stayed silent, playing the game of resistance to their interrogator.
“Good, I like defiance in a man,” Bob gloated.  “We’ll see how
long it lasts.” He released Kyle’s neck and shoved the twins toward
each other.  Their arms stretch up and back but the ropes were loose enough
for their chests to slam together, the tit clamps grinding against each
other, their balls pressed against each other’s, making them moan with
the pain.

“Kiss each other,” their captor ordered.  But they simply stared at
each other in open defiance of the sweaty muscle-hunk looming over them.
“Right, so I guess I’ll have to make you.”

Using the same whip Bob lashed their backs in turn, lightly at first, then
with more pressure so the lashes stung, then hurt – more and more.
Forced into compliance, arms still stretched upwards, the twin brothers now
ground their mouths together, the ecstasy of tasting their brother’s
lips heightened by the pain in their chests and bound balls as their bodies
churned against each other.

Whipping harder Bob yelled, “You know you can’t hold out much longer
…. the pain’s too much.  You’ve gotta submit to me.  Pull away …
look into each other’s eyes.  They pulled their heads back and stared
into their brother’s eyes, each boy seeing in them not only the same
love and lust as always, but now for the first time, the same suffering,
the same flinch of pain as the whip cracked against his brother’s back.

For each of them it was like watching himself get tortured, feeling it,
loving it, loving himself, loving his brother – it was all the same.  It
was the most intense sensation they had ever felt and they fell in love
with each other more deeply than ever.

They saw themselves reflected in each other’s eyes as they smiled and
whispered, “I love you bro.” In a final act of submission to their
master they threw their heads back and screamed as sperm blasted from their
cocks up between them, joining their bodies together with the juice of
fraternal passion.

When they were spent they slumped against each other, each boy resting his
head on his brother’s shoulder in exhaustion.  They heard their
master’s heavy breathing – “Yeah, here it comes” – and felt
his semen splash over their bodies.  Bob had rarely seen anything so
emotionally erotic as his twins making love to each other while being
tortured.

And neither had Randy.  The twins heard a slow hand-clap coming from the
door and slowly raised their heads to see a second construction worker,
just like the first – only fiercer.

“Fucking incredible, buddy,” Randy said, walking toward Bob.
“Looks like you’re really teaching these boys a lesson.  I knew
that’s what they wanted.  But you ain’t finished with them are you?”

“Hell no,” Bob grinned.  “This is just the start.  You wanna give
me a hand, old buddy?”

Randy stroked his chin.  “Let’s see now.  Two handsome identical
young brothers in leather pants and torn white shirts, tied up and worked
over, at the mercy of two macho construction guys.  Yeah, now that has
definite possibilities.  Sure, buddy, count me in.

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

TO BE CONTINUED in “A Trial Of Strength – Chapter 263


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

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