Randy laid the empty glass on the table, swiping at his
mouth. “He never knew what hit him!” he crowed. “I stole the Big V right out
from under Ken Leiland’s nose. Wait ‘til he finds out the account he thought
was in the bag went to me!”
Shy watched Randy’s excitement growing along with his cock,
as the viagara took hold. He’d looked up how it worked once, curious to know
the mechanics. Apparently, it had to do with specific arteries that weren’t
working properly, and the pill, which was targeted to them, opened them up.
Uninhibited blood flow led to a hard-on. Also a warning about an erection
lasting more than four hours. Though people joked about it, there was a medical
reason why that was dangerous, and not a very funny one. Luckily, Randy had
never been in that situation.
Shy suspected if he were, he’d blame Shy for his dysfunction.
He was under no illusion that Randy was sharing this
particular triumph with him. This wasn’t the first time he’d come home for a
nooner following a particularly satisfying coup at the office. Randy was in
love with the sound of his own voice. He enjoyed bragging, and Shy just
happened to be in the room. Nothing more.
He couldn’t help but think that Wyatt would be more
considerate.
Lost in his own thoughts, it took a second for Shy to
realize Randy’s gloat had stopped. He glanced and found Randy’s eyes trained on
him, and he fought the rising panic that threatened to overtake him, forcing
his face into its usual passivity.
Randy tapped one finger against his closed lips,
thoughtfully. Shy had no idea what, if anything, he was thinking. He seldom did.
“Stroke yourself hard.” Randy commanded and Shy instantly
obeyed. He palmed his soft cock and brought it to an erect state with practiced
ease.
“Put on the cock ring,” Randy instructed.
Shy hastened to obey. “Yes, Sir.” To an outside observer,
Randy’s calm face was no cause for alarm. But Shy could see the grey eyes
beginning to darken, and his skin crawled at the knowledge. What did he know,
or what did he think he knew? He fought to keep his breath even. Reveal
nothing, give nothing away.
The cock ring resembled a dog’s collar, black leather and
studded. It was adjustable. At its loosest it was not too bad, but on some settings
it could be brutal. It all depended on Randy’s mood. Normally, Shy was allowed
to keep it looser than not.
He left it in that particular position, awaiting more
orders.
“Tighter,” Randy instructed.
Shy adjusted it a notch. “Again.”
Shy pulled it as far as it would go, trapping his erection
in the vise-like grip of the cock ring. It was painful now, but he didn’t let
on. It wouldn’t be forever, just until they were done here.
Randy’s expression was inscrutable. Shy had regained
control. He presented his usual compliant face to the man who considered
himself his master, his dominant. Dom, for short. Randy had rules, and Shy
obeyed them. Randy had begun to instill his rules into Shy at the age of
fifteen. After he bought Shy from Shy’s mother, Doreen.
Shy knew nothing else.
Shy waited patiently for Randy’s next command. He assumed Randy
would wish to be lubed, and would want Shy to prepare himself for his entrance.
Although Randy had requested the paddle, Shy didn’t anticipate he would use it.
That was generally for discipline purposes, and seldom used. There were different
types of paddles. This one was wooden, and it hurt. But it was the one Randy
had specified.
Shy had been paddled a lot in the beginning, when he was
just a child. He had confused the strokes with love. He knew differently now.
There was no love between them, only obedience. Love was not real, it was a
myth. The subject of sappy books and stupid fairy tales.
Love did not exist.
Randy poured himself another glass of champagne and sipped
at it, regarding Shy over the rim. “Have a good day?”
Shy nodded, not trusting his voice. Where had that question
come from?
“Anything... special... happen?”
“I got what you asked for.” As if catering to Randy’s every
whim were the only special occasion in Shy’s life.
The eyes seemed darker, unblinking. Shy fought against the
need to run.
Fuck me and go.
Please.
“Anything you want to tell me?”
Shy shook his head.
Randy surprised Shy by taking a seat on the edge of the bed,
close to the table. Closer to the lube, perhaps?
Randy patted his bare thighs. “Bend over. “
Wh-what?
“Now.”
Oh Jesus, why hadn’t he moved fast enough, when the words
first left Randy’s lips. Not stopping to think, Shy did as he was told,
stretching out across Randy’s lap.
Please, don’t let him
be mad, don’t let him be mad, don’t let—
The first stroke took Shy by surprise. He released an
inadvertent gasp. Randy didn’t seem to notice or care. The hard wood bit into
Shy’s tender flesh. It stung. The next one felt a little harder. So were the
third and fourth.
Pain flamed through his body like wildfire, a liquid warmth
that stole through his veins. He gritted his teeth, knowing Randy couldn’t see,
not with his hand bent down as it was.
When Randy paused, Shy prayed that he was done. That he’d
order him on to the bed and then fuck him. He heard the bottle of champagne
clunk on the table. Must have wanted another drink.
The cold wet liquid shocked Shy. It burned into his bruised
cheeks and stung like the very devil. This time he couldn’t help the moan. It
was wrung from him, against his will.
He felt Randy’s tongue lap at his wet skin. It didn’t
ameliorate the pain in any way.
Tears stung his eyes.
“You’re mine, Shylor. No one else’s,” Randy hissed.
Oh fuck...
to be continued
Now, go see what the others are up to!
Whether Randy knows or merely suspects, things look painful for Shy. :(
ReplyDeleteHe knows. At least he thinks he knows something. I wouldn't be surprised if he had spies watching Shy. I wouldn't be surprised by anything with Randy. exquisite torture. Please miss can we have some more
ReplyDelete