This week's prompts are: Use ugliness in some way or "bad to the bone" or "you never bring me flowers" or feature a best man in some way or have a character say "fiddle-dee-dee!" or use a blue moon in your tale or use a flogger, paddle or whip or "You want me to what?" or "She's got a triple D chest and the IQ of wallpaper paste."
In last week's No Way Out, we saw Shy and Randy go to the bdsm club, Sweet Majesty, and that's where we continue today, with a glimpse of the club. Don't forget to check out the other Briefers, whose links follow my tale, and be aware, we have another FLASH VIRGIN! Enjoy!
Shy was not the only male sporting a collar and leash. Nor was he
the only one naked. However, that didn’t exactly ameliorate the situation for
him. Not that he’d ever say anything. He wouldn’t dream of it.
He’d seen enough of Sweet Majesty to have some understanding of its
clientele. There were regulars, some of whom were in committed relationships, while
others came to meet up with like-minded individuals and scratch an itch.
Shy was there as Randy’s personal property, and he knew it.
At one time, he’d been proud of what he was. He knew better now, and was simply
resigned to the way things were.
Some of the rooms had no doors; they’d been removed for
voyeuristic purposes. Anything and everything was possible. The club’s motto could
have easily been anything goes.
Tables were interspersed throughout the house, including the
hallways. There were at least two stages, for those inclined to perform.
Although that didn’t stop impromptu shows from being held in other areas. Shy
had noticed peepholes in some of the rooms, perhaps for those who were shyer
about watching. Most simply stared at anything they wished to see.
Other Doms walked their subs on chain or leather leashes,
and some of these latter also wore cockrings, like Shy. Shy was not allowed to speak to any of them; he
only spoke to Randy with permission. Randy, of course, was free to converse as
he wished, and he did, for many of these men were his business acquaintances. It
was not unusual for Randy to finagle contracts here, using Shy’s mouth to seal
the deal. Shy couldn’t remember the number of blow jobs he’d given at Randy’s
direction and he didn’t really want to know.
As they passed, Shy noticed an active threesome upon a
stage. A sub was sandwiched between two Doms, being fucked from either end. At
a nearby table, another Dom enjoyed his meal while his sub ate his food from a
plate set on the floor. This was common practice here. Randy never permitted Shy
to sit at his level.
In another room, one slave faced the wall, spread-eagled,
his hands held in manacles screwed into the wall while his master worked him
over with a whip; the other was bent over a table, his ass high in the air, the
flesh striped in criss-cross welts from the flogger in his master’s hand.
Shy never knew what to expect when they came here. Sometimes
Randy would simply watch the activity of the others. Other times, he wanted to
show off his prowess as a cocksman, and would fuck Shy hard. Shy’s youth was a
coup for Randy, one he wore proudly. Shy didn’t exist as a person; no one knew
his name. Here he was simply Randy’s possession.
Perhaps tonight would be a look but don’t touch night. Randy
had made no effort to remove his clothes. Shy couldn’t help but notice that he
was still hard. Sometimes he wished Randy would simply fuck someone else, but
that never happened. It no longer mattered to Shy if people watched them fuck;
he was used to it. It had long ago ceased to be anything but a perfunctory act,
at least on his part.
There were at least three house slaves who circulated about
the club, under the direction of Mel, with drink-laden trays. If a patron didn’t
like what was being offered, he simply had to ask for something else. One
passed by them now, dressed only in a thong and a red collar that read Sweet
Majesty. “Good evening, Master Grant,
good to see you,” the young man greeted Randy.
Shy had stopped when Randy did, at a sharp tug on the leash,
and partially turned toward him. He observed Randy take a glass of what might
have been champagne, his gaze flicking over the well-hung server. “I can tell
you think so,” he riposted, eliciting a practiced smile from the other before
he passed along his way. Shy quickly glanced at the floor, his expression
revealing nothing.
Randy pulled on the leash and Shy knew he was to move again,
without being told. Up a set of stairs now, to the second floor. Some of these
doors were closed, but not soundproof, and snippets of sensuality could be
heard as they passed by. Moans and cries of pleasure. “Harder!” “Yes, Sir!” and
“Fuck me, please!”
Men passed them going the other way. Some exchanged
greetings with Randy. Each time Randy tugged on the leash and Shy halted and
waited his next command, like a horse on a bridle. “This your sub?” one man
asked, and Randy quickly replied, “Yes.”
“Nice job.” Envy laced the voice. “May I?”
“Be my guest,” Randy assented smoothly.
Strange hands cupped Shy’s balls and stroked his cock. Not for
the first time, probably not the last. But no one was foolish enough to venture
to touch Shy’s ass. The one time someone had come close, Randy had roughly
knocked his hand away and yelled, “Mine!” in no uncertain times.
That had also been the last time.
Shy stood without moving or reacting; he was used to this.
Nothing fazed him, he felt nothing. This too would pass.
What if he touched
you... what if those were Wyatt’s hands touching your balls? Your cock? What
then?
Where had that come from? Shy startled, accidentally
shifting his weight.
Dear God, please don’t
let Randy...
“What?”Randy’s voice held an edge. The fondler had already
moved away. Shy stood in frozen horror, wondering what response to make. He
wasn’t even sure what the question was.
“Shylor!” Randy barked.
Shy knew what that meant. He raised unwilling eyes to Randy’s
face. “What the fuck—” Randy began.
Shy swallowed hard and took a deep breath. But before he
could release a single word, another voice intruded, calling Randy’s name, and
Randy turned away in obvious annoyance. But only at first.
“Well hello, Ken.”
Shy breathed again.
to be continued
Now, go visit the other Briefers!
Rob Colton ***FLASH VIRGIN****
Until next time, take care!
♥ Julie
Gets better and better
ReplyDeletePoor Shy. His master is into humiliation and he isn't. :( I sure want him to get away from Randy, because I don't think his situation is bound to get better.
ReplyDeleteCan I bring Shy home and get him away from that jerk.
ReplyDeletePoor Shy! When is the pain going to end? :-(
ReplyDelete