Last week, we heard Wyatt ask if something was wrong. Will anybody speak the truth? Find out in this week's episode of No Way Out. Then don't forget to visit the other Briefers, to see what they're up to. Don't forget to visit the Flash Virgin!!!!!
No Way Out #3
Shylor felt his heart stop at those magic words, but it took a few moments for him to realize the question had actually been spoken aloud. It wasn’t the product of his usually overactive imagination. And once realized, he found he could not respond. The words were locked in his throat, held by five years of obedience tempered with discipline.
Is something wrong? Only everything. And nothing.
Shylor quickly withdrew into his shell, looked down at the car, focusing his attention on that. Randy would deal with the newcomer, Randy would do what needed to be done. Whoever this was, he was just a passerby, a momentary intrusion into their lives. He’d get the answer to his question and be gone and that would be that. Shy had himself to think of, first and foremost. He felt the false hope die in his chest and he scrubbed harder at the silver rim.
“I’m sorry, do we know you?” Randy’s voice was smooth and fluid. When he’d originally opened his marketing business, he’d done voiceovers for many of his first customers, radio and TV, but he’d stopped doing that, as if it was beneath him.
Randy often used the royal we, even if it might appear to an outsider that he referred to himself and Shylor. Shy knew better.
“Probably not.” The voice was amiable enough, with a pleasant timber. Shy caught himself glancing up, against his better judgment. But only for a second, as the stranger held out his hand to Randy. Just long enough to see the man wasn’t hard on the eyes, either.
“I’m Wyatt. I’m housesitting right across the street. For Mr. Masterson.”
Shy knew Randy wouldn’t shake hands with the man. He held himself aloof from most human contact. Shy almost snickered as he imagined Randy using his prissy voice. Don’t you dare touch me with that. How he managed at work, Shy couldn’t even begin to imagine. One of the perks of being the head honcho, he guessed.
“I didn’t realize he’d left for Europe already.” Randy sounded miffed. He hated to be the last to learn things. “I’ve seen his car here, I just supposed...”
“I’m using it,” Wyatt explained. “He left it with me.”
And that was that.
Suddenly there was a hand touching Shy’s shoulder, and then that same hand appeared in front of his face, as if it was being offered to him, and he couldn’t help but see it as a lifeline. He started to reach for it, but thought better of his action at the last moment and knocked an imaginary bit of dirt from the car’s pristine panel.
“And you are?” Wyatt prompted.
Shy felt his face being tilted upward and his heart pounded madly in his chest. Oh there would be hell to pay for this, no question. “Sh-Shylor,” he managed to stammer out. He could feel Randy’s annoyance behind him, but he couldn’t make himself look away.
“Is there something we can help you with?” Randy broke into the moment and Wyatt released Shy’s chin. He was quivering, which made the butt plug quiver too, and fresh waves broke through him. He fought against them, stifling a moan. Not the time or place. And if he dared to come, without permission...
“I was going to ask you the same thing. I noticed Shylor’s been working on the car for a long time, thought he might like a hand.”
“Shylor has everything under control. He’s simply very thorough, that’s all. Mr... Finley, did you say?”
“No, Findley. With a d. Shylor, what do you say? I don’t mind using a little elbow grease. Between us, I’m sure we can knock this out in no time?”
Shylor stopped in mid swipe, stared up at the good-looking brunet. Would Randy punish him here, before this man, humiliate him in some way? Or would he wait until they were alone, inside the house, to carry out his retaliation. That there would be some form of punishment, Shylor had no doubt. Whatever it was, he’d live through it. He always did.
To think, this guy was just across the street. Maybe they’d have to be more careful...
“I think the car looks fine. Shylor, you can be done.”
To an outsider, Randy’s voice was cold, but Shy knew better. There was a rage building inside of him. One that needed to be expended in some way. But Randy would never let that be seen by anyone else. He had better self-control; he wore his mask well.
“Wonderful! I have an idea, why don’t you come over and I’ll make us some drinks and we can get acquainted?”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
Shylor dropped his eyes, feeling his hope spin away. He wouldn’t mind getting away from the house. That happened all too seldom any more. And generally the places where Randy took him, when he did deign to take him anywhere, were clubs for people that enjoyed the same sort of lifestyle that Randy did. And when they went to those places, Randy insisted on being addressed as Master or Sir, although that rule was not enforced at home.
Rules. Always about the rules. Until Shy had come to live with Randy, he’d never really lived by any. Since that time, he’d done nothing but.
“I see. You’ll come over, won’t you, Shy?”
So casual. So inviting. Visiting one’s neighbors. That’s what normal people did, didn’t they? They got on with the people who lived around them, were friendly and helpful. Had actual conversations.
But Shylor didn’t consider himself to be normal. He didn’t deserve to have real discussions with real people. He didn’t deserve anyone’s friendship. And he knew he would never have it.
Everything he was, he owed to Randy. His self-worth was tied up in Randy’s ownership. He belonged to Randy, and had ever since his mother sold him to the businessman.
“I can’t.” He forced the words out stiffly.
Maybe his punishment would be lessened now.
to be continued
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Renee Stevens ***FLASH VIRGIN****
Until next time, take care!