This week's prompts were: "If you wish upon a star" or use pea soup in your story or have your character make some sort of comfort food or "When I'm away from you, I feel..." or use an overdue book fine at the library or "My... is bigger than your..." or "round and round the mulberry bush" or "She slid her thumb gently across my lips and I thought I'd melt" or have your character Google something.
This week's installment of No Way Out continues with Randy and Shy in the bedroom. Can things get any worse for Shy? See what happens for yourself! Then be sure to visit the other Briefers, as they spin their own tales. Their links follow my story. Enjoy!
The sting of the alcohol permeated Shy’s skin, sending sharp
sensations cascading through him. Just as those started to blessedly dull,
Randy brought the paddle down again... and again... and fresh waves assaulted Shy.
His nether cheeks flamed, seared with a heat that refused to quit.
When he was younger, and Randy had spanked him, Shy used to
squirm on Randy’s lap, trying to escape the pain. He’d learned quickly enough
not to do that; it only made things worse. He lay still now.
“Who do you belong to?” Randy demanded to know, striking a
fresh blow.
“You,” Shy mumbled automatically, his response muffled
against Randy’s thigh.
“I can’t hear you!”
Shy lifted his head slightly, just enough to make himself
heard. “You. Only you.” No need to think, just spit it out. Nothing less would
do.
When Randy made no immediate reply, Shy thought the worst
was over. Until he felt Randy’s teeth press against his inflamed skin. Oh
please no, not now, please not now... Shy’s inner plea a mantra of protection
against what he feared Randy might do.
But it didn’t help. He could feel Randy’s teeth pierce his
flesh, and a searing pain went through him. This was not the first time Randy had bitten
him, whether in anger or lust. Sitting would be a bitch tomorrow and Shy knew
it.
At times like these, Shy absented himself, separated his
mind from his body and did his best to not feel the pain. Nonsense phrases and
silly songs played themselves in his mind. Monkeys and weasels raced one
another round and round the mulberry bush. London Bridge fell down and dreams
flew over the rainbow.
The paddle fell once, twice more, before Randy mercifully
stopped what he was doing. At least that aspect of it.
“You will not ...
ruin... my mood. D’you hear me?”
“Yes, Sir.” Shy made
sure to make himself heard this time, trying to focus on anything but the
throbbing in his ass.
“So red,” Randy crooned, as if he’d actually accomplished
something he was proud of. “Like a cherry. Like the cherry I took. Remember?”
How could Shy forget?
Shy felt his cheeks being pulled apart and then Randy jammed
something inside, without warning. Felt like his thumb, maybe. Shy gasped at
the intrusion.
“So fucking tight. Perfect fit for me, and no one else.”
Shy felt his protesting muscles open, forced to relax at the
intrusion.
“Damn straight I’m gonna fuck you.”
Suddenly, Shy felt empty. Randy had withdrawn his thumb. He
slapped Shy’s ass, producing a wince.
“Get on the bed,” he commanded. “Quickly. I can’t stay here
all day, have to get back to work.”
“Yes, Sir.” Shy scrambled to obey, although his legs
protested. They felt rubbery. For a moment, he worried he’d fall to the floor,
incurring Randy’s further wrath. But they held, just long enough for him to
flop on the bad and assume the position, ass invitingly in the air. No matter
that it hurt like a son of a bitch.
Please just let this
end...
He couldn’t see what was happening, but he felt the bed
quiver as Randy put his weight on it. Shy tried to return to the other place,
the safe place, but his mind wouldn’t cooperate, filled with images he could
not shake loose. He didn’t want to think
about what was going to happen, but he couldn’t stop, and he felt himself tense
up, his arms stiffening, his body clenching, as if to prevent Randy’s entrance.
No, no. It’ll hurt more...
He felt Randy behind him, moving into position for the kill.
He wished he knew how to pray, but his mother had never taken him to church.
Told him there were cocksucking perverts there.
Watch out for the
cocksuckers, boy...
“Is something wrong?”
Wyatt’s words came tumbling into Shy’s mind. He could see
Wyatt standing there, his shadow falling over Randy’s expensive sedan, a white
knight minus the steed.
Shy knew better, but he couldn’t help himself. Wyatt filled
his brain to the exclusion of all else, as if Shy’d lapsed into a dreamlike
state from which he might never emerge. He pictured Wyatt behind him, imagined
his beautiful cock sliding in and out of Shy, filling him with the greatest
pleasure. Wyatt wasn’t too big and he wasn’t too little—he was just right. And
he knew just what to do, the right way to move, drawing his own pleasure from
Shy’s eager body.
Take me, Wyatt, I’m
yours...
He relaxed into Wyatt’s masterful touch, which overrode the
pain, even as Shy rose above it, floating on the strength of his own dreams.
Never mind that his cock was swollen and angry, leaking precome, but unable to
find release because of the leather ring. Never mind any of it, just keep on
dreaming...
He was shaken from his torpor by the grunts of Randy’s
orgasm. He felt Randy pull out, dripping, before he collapsed onto the bed, one
arm flung over his eyes as he worked at catching his breath.
Shy’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d just done, and
he was barely able to keep himself from trembling. He watched Randy, fearful of
what he’d do. Maybe this time he’d go over the edge and ... he couldn’t
complete the thought even to himself.
“Shylor...” Randy panted, and Shy held his breath. This was
it. “Go get a wash cloth and clean me up. Make sure it’s warm.” And that was
all. Apparently, Randy hadn’t noticed.
Shy almost peed himself in his gratitude at not being
caught.
He hurried to the bathroom, ignoring the pain that radiated
through his limbs, wet the cloth and brought it back to cleanse Randy. When he
was done, Randy dressed, his usual smirk fixed in place.
“Don’t take that off.” He pointed to the cock ring. “And put
in a plug.”
What did this portend?
“We’re going to the club tonight, my little slave.”
to be continued
Now for the rest of our merry band:
You know... I'd love for Randy to take another hit of V at the club and have a damn coronary! I mean, jeez... he deserves it. I like this story, but it's almost stressful to read it. So much bad; the flash format makes it hard to read week after week of Shy being abused mentally and physically. I'm hoping things turn out well in the end though!
ReplyDeleteOoooh nice nice nice I likee. I'm not known as the Queen of Evil for nothing ;) The club sounds interesting. More torture? Pretty please. Well not so pretty really but hey...it's me :) I love love love this story. I do, however, echo Cia's sentiments about Randy. I would love to see his randy ass carted off in a box...but not until he's torture Shy some more
ReplyDeleteI'm quite concerned for Shy because he's bringing Wyatt into his fantasies. Randy seems oblivious at the moment, thank goodness, but if he ever figures it out... I've also joined the "Randy Must Die" club.
ReplyDelete