Shane settled into the new routine of his life with little fuss. He would wake up early–always clad in his work gear–head downstairs and start cooking. His father would come downstairs to eat breakfast around the time when Roger would arrive at the house, and while the three of them ate, Shane’s mother would drift through the room, in her own world, and head to work. After eating, his father would leave as well, and then Shane would join Roger and get started on the work for the day.
He was learning quite a bit, however, and the tasks he was given were becoming quite a bit more than just fetching and carrying. Still, the project didn’t seem to make a whole lot of sense–what exactly were they doing in here, anyway? His father had only ever mentioned getting the house renovated, but had never been more specific than that–but what on earth was this new room even for? He might try and ask Roger these sorts of questions, but quickly learned that he shouldn’t–he’d earn a stern rebuke at best, or if he pressed the matter, Roger would make him bend over the sawhorse while he paddled his ass red.
Usually, however, those sorts of questions wouldn’t occur to him at all. He would just focus on whatever task Roger had given him in that moment, and complete it to the best of his ability. Still, several times a day he’d notice a detail, and realize that something about this entire situation was…wrong. Like when he took a bathroom break one day, and lingered at the mirror, staring at the filthy coveralls he was wearing–that he’d been wearing for nearly two weeks straight. He hadn’t even taken the boots off in all that time either, not without Roger’s explicit permission–say, if he got something in the bottom of one–and then it had to go right back on. The front and the crotch were covered with stains from his own loads of cum, and recently, from Roger’s. He’d taken to jacking off as well, and while he’d often make Shane suck him off, he nearly always shot his load onto Shane’s coveralls, and afterwards make Shane tell him how much he enjoyed being Sir’s cumrag. But usually, a thought like that would derail his concern, and he’d forget about his worries, or he’d start jacking off, or he’d ignore them–knowing that broaching the subject with Roger would be a poor choice.
Still, things were changing. There were a few differences he’d noticed when he’d gotten home from school that had gotten worse–his father’s whole appearance, for example. He’d always been very concerned with his looks, but he’d suddenly made all sorts of changes–and not all of them were flattering. For one thing, he was gaining weight, enough to create a bit of a paunch in the front of his shirts when he went to work, stretching the buttons slightly. He’d started growing out his beard, as well. It had been kind of funny, when Shane had arrived, because the grey in the face had confirmed that his father had obviously been dying his hair to a younger black–but he never dyed the beard, as it grew, and the grey roots of his hair were beginning to show as well. It made him look rather…distinguished–at least, it did until it got a bit overgrown and shaggy.
Then, there were the cigars his father had started smoking–the same brand as Roger, in fact. His father had always hated smokers, and yet he seemed perfectly at ease with his new habit. When Shane had tried to ask him when he’d started, in fact, his father had looked at him like he was a bit crazy–and Roger had insisted that his father had been smoking them for years. Still, that couldn’t possibly be right, unless he’d been hiding it from his mother this whole time. In fact, her behavior was perhaps the most bizarre of all. Normally, she was always micromanaging both her husband and son when they were home, but when Shane had arrived, she’d seemed so…distant and uninterested in them both. Now, there were some nights when she didn’t even come home at all. The only person she talked to was Roger, who’d ask her how she’d been lately, and they’d have a private conversation outside–usually while Shane and his father ate. Everything was different, somehow, and yet, it felt to Shane like all of it was completely normal.
But today…something was different about today. For one thing, Roger was nervous, but in an excited sort of fashion. It was a Saturday, and so both of his parents were home for the day, but Roger had mostly given Shane a list of construction tasks to complete in the room that afternoon, while he’d gone and taken both his father and mother into another room to discuss some of his thoughts on the project’s progress. Shane had expected it to take a few hours, but they’d been hours now, and his list was almost finished. Being unsupervised this long…shouldn’t he be doing something? Trying to get…help? But why would he need help? Instead, he kept working–Sir would be…upset if the list wasn’t done by the end of the workday–he knew that.
He finished the tasks, and sat down on a bucket, groping the wet crotch of his coveralls, ready to milk out another load as a reward, when Roger came back into the room with his parents. “Alright–how’s the list boy?”
“All finished sir,” Shane said, “I…I was just gonna jack off.”
“That can wait boy. Looks like the boy and I are all finished for the day then, so we’ll be leaving,” Roger said to Shane’s parents. “Clean up the tools, boy, and then let’s go.”
“Do you need me to make dinner like usual sir?” Shane asked, a bit confused by what Roger had just said.
His mother laughed, “Oh, he’s very sweet to offer, but no.”
Roger winked at him, and Shane got a bit anxious. That wink…it never meant anything good. Still, he cleaned up the room as Roger liked it, and in ten minutes they were finished. “Well come on boy, it’s time to go home. We’ll take tomorrow off, though, and be back on Monday,” Roger said.
“But…I mean…” Shane said, looking at his parents, “I am home. I sleep here.”
His mom and dad got…rather strange looks on their faces, and looked over at Roger. His mother, in particular, looked quite disgusted. “That’s not appropriate–I thought your boy would behave better than that.”
“No boy, that isn’t appropriate talk, is it. Apologize to the nice lady, and then get your butt in the truck.”
“I’m…I’m sorry, mom,” Shane said, but Roger whacked him upside the head.
“You address ladies as Ma’am, boy. You know that.”
“S-Sorry Ma’am,” Shane muttered.
“Now get going.” Roger shoved Shane towards the front door, and he knew he should object, but the world seemed to be spinning, and he was crying, and he looked back at his parents, but they…didn’t even seem to recognize him. And then they were outside, and into Roger’s truck, where he grinned at Shane’s face. “They won’t miss you boy, don’t worry–and you’ll be back Monday morning anyway for work! But I’ve been missin’ you at home, boy–where you fuckin’ belong–and where you’ll be staying for a good long time.”
Bracken's Corner 