As you'll recall from last week, Shy is in a perilous predicament, as Randy has offered to have him blow a room full of men! Is there anything that can be done about this? Find out in No Way Out #22. And don't forget to visit the other Briefers, whose links follow my tale. Enjoy!
No Way Out #22
Shy squirmed uncomfortably, unable to prevent the shudders that rippled through his body. Stand still, he admonished himself. He didn’t have permission to move. The last thing he needed was to draw Randy’s ire down on him. He was already receiving enough unwanted attention from the rest of the room.
Randy’s words had been greeted with a moment of silence, as if the other occupants of the room were digesting what he’d said. The moment was broken when someone whistled, then someone else catcalled,” He’s got some purty lips, hmm mmmm.” That broke the tension as the other men laughed.
This wasn’t the first time Randy had offered Shy’s services to other members of Sweet Majesty. So why did this time bother him? Was it because the other occasions had been more low key and private, not this wholesale orgy of lip service he was supposed to pay to virtual strangers?
He looked up without thinking, scanning the faces of the men in the room, who all seemed to be staring at him, finally landing on a man who seemed somewhere about Randy’s age. The man seemed distinctly uncomfortable.
“Grant, you’re asking an awful lot from him.” The man took a step toward Shy. Randy tugged at the leash, jerking Shy, who stumbled to his knees and stayed there.
“He’s mine to do with as I please.” Randy’s voice was smooth on the surface, but Shy felt the undertones of his displeasure; he involuntarily flinched.
Ignoring Randy, the man knelt before Shy, searching his eyes with compassion. “Is this what you want?” he softly asked.
Shy’s mouth went dry. Terror flew along every synapse at the thought of what Randy would do should he answer with anything other than yes. Yet he seemed unable to get the simple word past his lips. He felt tension on the leash increase. Knew without looking that Randy was staring at him, waiting, anticipating the only response he wanted to hear. The only response Shy dared to give.
And yet he couldn’t give it.
Why not? What was wrong with him? Did he want to be hurt? Or worse?
He couldn’t say, couldn’t do it. So he did the next best thing and nodded, hoping his performance was an Oscar winner, since everything was riding on it.
The man looked unconvinced.
“You heard him,” Randy said smoothly. “Would you like to be first, Blankenship?”
An expression of disgust crossed the man’s face. He placed his fingers beneath Shy’s chin, tilted his face up. “You don’t have to do this,” he pled with him.
Before he had a chance to respond, assuming he had any such intention, Randy yanked Shy’s leash and he fell to the floor. When the man would help him, Randy snarled, “Do. Not. Touch.”
Shy scrambled back onto his knees, his face impassive. Blankenship murmured, “God help you, son,” and rose to his feet, facing Randy. “I intend to report you, Grant. You give those of us who are honestly living the life a bad name. You have no idea what being a Dom entails. You’re a clueless piece of shit.”
“You can’t talk to me like that.” Randy’s usually cultured voice had an edge to it now.
Shy felt the leash tremble; he glanced up in surprise. Randy was rubbing his arm, probably to keep himself from punching the other man.
“I have every right to be here, same as you. Now just mind your own business.” He turned away, toward a younger man with gelled blue hair and an Armani suit; he’d been one who’d seemed excited at Randy’s offer. “Harry, you want to be first? Let Shy show you what he can do with those lips.”
“Yeah, sure, Randy.” The young man eagerly stepped forward, already unzipping himself. Shy heard more whistles, mixed with angry murmurs. He could barely breathe, barely focus.
Just do what needs to be done, get it over with.
He sniffled once, forced himself to breathe and willed his body not to shake. If this was Randy’s wish, what could he do but obey. What choice did he have?
He sensed bodies in motion around him. A few of the men must have left, but others were queuing up behind Mr. Blue Hair, laughing and joking about who would come the most, who would last the longest. Shy felt sickened at their words.
“Grant, for the love of all that’s right, stop this.” That was Blankenship again. Even as he watched the young man before him pull his cock from his pants, Shy was able to observe Randy. He couldn’t help but watch as the leash jerked almost erratically in Randy’s hand; he rubbed at his neck. Shy could fairly see the veins stand out, while Randy’s face was flushed with displeasure.
Shy tried to absent himself, move into a far corner of his mind where none of this existed. Let his body obey, do what it had to, but he wouldn’t be there. He’d be far away, in another place entirely. And in this far away place, Shy was not alone, for Wyatt was there before him.
Shy reached for him, mentally, felt the warmth of Wyatt’s embrace, as he imagined it to be, even as he felt the young man’s cock touch his lips. “Open wide for chunky,” the other man joked.
Shy jerked back without warning. What was he doing? Panic-stricken, he raised fearful eyes to Randy. He wasn’t sure what Randy would do; he hated disobedience and didn’t tolerate it. Shy had as much as told him no. For that he’d have to pay.
Randy turned furious eyes to Shy. He took a step toward him. Shy saw Blankenship move toward Randy, as if to intercede. But then something odd happened. Randy’s eyes widened, his mouth gaped open, and his hands released the leash, clawing at his chest instead.
As Shy watched, Randy crumpled before his very eyes and the room exploded into chaos.
to be continued
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