This week, I drew my inspiration from a picture:
As you may recall in last week's episode, Wyatt wondered what took so long to wash one luxury sedan, so he crossed the street and met Shylor and Randy, much to the latter's chagrin. Then he invited them over for drinks! Will he take the not so subtle hint and go away and leave them alone? Find out in this week's installment of No Way Out. Then don't forget to visit the other Briefers and see what's going on in their world!
No Way Out #4
Shy fought to control the trembling that threatened to overtake his limbs and exacerbate his current situation. The moment of hope had passed. Wyatt would go and that would be the end of that. Randy would never allow him near again, that much Shylor knew. But he had other things to think about.
Like enduring whatever punishment Randy chose to inflict.
So caught up was he in thoughts of Randy’s retaliation that the sound of Wyatt’s voice startled him, and he froze in place.
“Well, another time then, Shylor.”
Didn’t he understand no when he heard it?
“That is, if your dad doesn’t mind.”
Oh. My. God.
Shy was conflicted. Part of him wanted to giggle so badly he could taste it—what he wouldn’t give to sneak a look at Randy’s face, which was undoubtedly very sanguine. The other part was appalled. A bad situation had just become worse.
Let Randy explain the truth. Shy wasn’t about to touch the subject for love or money. If asked, the best answer he could offer was “it’s complicated.”
“I’m not his father.”
Oh yeah, Randy was upset. His voice had just assumed glacial proportions, of the Titanic variety.
“Oh, sorry. I just assumed.”
That was bound to help. Not.
Shylor didn’t think Wyatt sounded sorry at all. In fact, he sounded rather amused. Shy wanted to see for himself. He knew better than to look, knew it wasn’t in his own best interest. But, at this point, he was pretty well fucked anyway, so why not? He cocked his head slightly, and peeked. Sure enough, Wyatt was grinning at him. Shy did not offer a smile in return.
A fist bump was certainly out of the question.
Get out of here now, while the getting’s good. A feeling of panic welled in his breast. He wasn’t sure what Randy might do to Wyatt, provoked in that way. He knew Wyatt had no idea what Randy was capable of, or he wouldn’t taunt him like that.
“We have to go. Thank you for stopping by, Mr. Finley. Now, if you’ll excuse us.”
This time, no doubt, the mispronunciation was deliberate.
Shy didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the vibrations from the butt plug; they raced along his nerve endings. At least he could excuse the wet state of his shorts on his occupation, and none the wiser.
“Have a nice day.” Wyatt’s voice was so cheerful, so good-humored. But why shouldn’t it be? He could come and go as he pleased, couldn’t he? Make his own rules. “See you later, Shy.”
Shy warmed inside, but he never looked, never responded. He kept his eyes cast down, knowing Randy watched. Even so, he felt Wyatt’s withdrawal, saw his shadow as it ebbed from view.
“Sh-should I put everything up first?” Even Shy’s voice trembled.
“Yes! And be damn quick about it!” Randy snapped. “I’ll be timing you.”
For just a moment, Shylor dared to hope that Randy would restrict himself to verbal recriminations. Being yelled at, he could deal with. But Randy’s next words put an end to that idea.
“I’ll be in the blue room.”
That did not bode well.
But there was nothing to be done for it. Before Randy had time to stalk to the front door, Shy was in motion, emptying the bucket he’d been using, rinsing out the rags and laying them out to dry. Rolling up the hose. He knew the drill and he didn’t dare deviate from it.
Shy wasn’t sure what to expect when he opened the door to the blue room. Anything was possible. Taking a deep breath, he walked into the barren room, empty at the moment but for a single chair.
Randy was pacing back and forth across the room, a sure sign of his agitation. “Father? Ha! If he only knew... if he could only see.“ He stopped and pointed one well-manicured finger toward Shy. “You know the rules. You do not talk without permission.”
Shylor nodded. He’d discovered years ago that debating only produced more pain.
“How dare he? How dare you? Ungrateful little bastard.” Randy darted toward him, his slap landing full across Shy’s cheek. Unprepared, Shy’s head bounced back. His long blond hair flew into his face, but he made no move to brush it aside.
“Strip,” Randy commanded in a heated voice and Shylor hastened to obey, carefully setting every piece of clothing aside. He didn’t want to give Randy any more of an excuse for violence than he already had. While he got undressed, Randy left the room, returning quickly, and not empty handed.
It was going to be one of those nights, Shy knew, when he spotted the rope. The only question was what position would he be tied in, and what would Randy choose to do to him then?
Randy wound the rope around Shy’s wrists, then dragged him to the chair, yanking on the rope. He suspended Shy’s hands over the back of the chair, until they just touched the edge of the seat. Shy’s back strained across the back of the chair as Randy trussed him, running the rope in a loop about his neck, and then down the front of his body.
Shy wondered what Randy had in mind. Usually, he tied him the other way, to allow himself access to Shyor’s hole. This way, even with his ass suspended over the seat, Shy didn’t see that working. So what then?
Randy reached beneath Shy and pushed against the plug. Shy shivered. So he was leaving that? Randy slid a cock ring over Shy’s hardness, stroked it ungently. Then he slid the blindfold into place and Shy’s world went dark.
Now it would come. The beating... the whipping... the fucking... whatever Randy decided to mete out, even if he couldn’t see it coming. He held his breath and counted...
“Think about your transgressions. I’m going out.”
The door slammed, and silence fell.
to be continued
Now go see what the other Briefers have done!
Until next time, take care!