by Drew Sera
As I stood there trying to regain control of my shaky legs, the girl gathered cum on her fingers and then began to rub it on her clit. Jesus, that was hot. I stood still, watching this girl masturbate with her fingers that were covered in my cum. After she came, she thanked me for my cum.
And thank fuck for the cum-slut room.
I tucked my cock inside my pants, and as I strolled out of the room, Mistress Lynn stood against the wall by the doorway, eyeing me. I gave her a smile and asked, “Did you enjoy the show?”
“Very much,” she said quietly.
I winked and left the room in search of the men’s room. The men’s room wasn’t far from the cum-slut room, so I ducked in there and washed my hands. I gazed at myself in the mirror. While I thoroughly enjoyed getting sucked and jacked off by that little blonde, I was unsettled by how much it bothered me when the girl looked into my eyes while she was sucking on me. I shook it off and headed back to the main room.
Grabbing a bottle of ice cold water, I found a spot in their tiny bar to sit and take in the surroundings. The rigger and the girl had just parted ways from the couch where they had been sitting, and he was heading over to the bar. I caught his attention and asked him some things about the suspension scene that he did. His name was Ian, and he sat and talked with me until Mark appeared.
“I see you’ve met Ian. He’s one of the best riggers around,” Mark said and slapped Ian on the back.
Ian went back to the area where he had performed the suspension scene, and another girl approached him with a man. I watched as Ian negotiated something with the couple. He mostly spoke to the man and nodded a lot, though some questions seemed to be directed to the girl as well.
All of these guys have some sort of routine they seem to follow. I’ll have to work on that.
“So, what have you been up to, Anthony?”
“Well, I watched Ian’s scene, and then Mistress Lynn told me about the cum-slut room. Of course, I had to see what that was all about. Hot little blonde sucked me off. I love that room.”
I omitted the part about being watched by Mistress Lynn. I actually think it’s kind of funny that this Domme has been checking me out, knowing full well that I’m not submissive. Mark and I watched Ian work with the new girl while we waited for Roger.
On our way out, we passed a metal rack with a bunch of fliers near the door, and one caught my eye immediately. Poking out on top of one of the cards was the phrase, “Club Irons.” I stopped and pulled out the flier. This was the place that Mistress Lynn spoke of. Roger stopped to see what I picked up, and he pointed to the flier.
“That, my friend, is a hot as fuck club,” he said.
“You’ve been there?” I asked and looked at him.
“Absolutely. It’s only been open for a few years. Membership is hard to come by. I went on a guest pass during the first year it was opened and everything, I mean everything, was done right in that club. No detail was forgotten. You’re from Vegas, you should try to go on a guest pass,” Roger said as Mark came back inside.
“I was halfway to the car when I realized that you guys weren’t with me. What are you looking at?”
I held the flier up and Mark laughed.
“Good luck, buddy. Unless you have deep pockets, your kinky dick isn’t getting in that door,” Mark said and slapped his hands on my shoulders.
“He can go on a guest pass,” Roger added.
“Sure he can. Once his name comes rolling up on the fucking mile long waiting list.”
I frowned and looked back down at the flier. It gave the address and a picture of the exterior, which looked pretty cool. At the bottom, there were two smaller pictures: one of the outside with pools and lush landscape and the other was a stone dungeon with torches.
“Do these really look like that at the club, Roger?” I asked and pointed to the dungeon.
“No, those pictures don’t do it justice. I have never been in a club where so much work was put into the atmosphere as Irons. That dungeon, it’s actually in the lower level of the club. Do you have any idea how much that alone would have cost there? There are stone steps leading down into it. There aren’t makeshift benches or seats down there either. All the benches are made of stone. Nothing is out of place, or like they needed to fill in spots with chairs or something. The level of detail in that place is off the charts.”
“Again, deep pockets, Anthony,” Mark reminded me. “There are plenty places that will still get you off, and you can enjoy kink play. That place,” he flicked his fingers at the flier. “That place is a wet dream.”
Roger rolled his eyes at Mark and then looked at me again.
“Get yourself on that waiting list for guest night. They have them once a month. And when your name comes up, do what you have to in order to go. You won’t regret it.”
“Yes, you will regret it, Anthony. You’ll see what is out of reach and that you can’t have it. Then you’ll just be pissed,” Mark said.
I wanted to go. I took the flier with me and looked at the picture of the dungeon all the way home. As soon as I got back to my apartment, I went to the phone and called Club Irons.
“Thank you for calling Club Irons, how may I help you?”
“Hi, I’d like to put my name on the waiting list for the guest pass,” I said.
She asked me for a bunch of information and said that they had me down but that right now the estimated wait time was over a year.
What the fuck?
I was disappointed, but there was nothing I could do but wait. In the meantime, I’d continue visiting clubs and learning what I could.
Chapter Eleven
May 1994
I spent most of the spring semester buried in my books. My extra class that I was taking this semester was kicking my ass. I joined a study group to help me, but they met on Sundays, which was becoming difficult for me since I spent my Saturday nights in local dungeons and clubs. So, an 8:00 a.m. study group was a challenge.
I hadn’t seen much of my dad, which I know he wasn’t happy about. My dad had my schedule, so he knew I was busy with classes and when I should be home.
After a long day of classes, I made the trip to San Francisco to attend a class at the dungeon on wax play. They covered the different types of candles and went over the different temperatures of burning points on each type. The class also covered how to prep an area for wax play, after care and basic safety. It was a very informative class and so much was covered that I went ahead and signed up for the class again in a few weeks. This was serious play because it would really hurt someone. I wanted to make sure I had it down before I attempted it. And it might not even be something that I’ll ever attempt, but at least I have the basic knowledge.
Since I had taken ten classes so far and now that I was twenty-one, I was now eligible to be a Dungeon Monitor, so I signed up for that. I was kind of surprised that they didn’t offer a class on being a Dungeon Monitor because I thought that would be something that they’d want to make sure some sound advice was given on.
I had eaten an apple and a sandwich during my drive home from the dungeon, and it was going on 10:00 p.m. by the time I got inside. I had four messages from my dad on my answering machine when I got in. His voice sounded different, but I couldn’t place a reason as to why it sounded different. He picked up the phone on the first ring when I called him back.
“Anthony, I’ve been trying to reach you all evening.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I just got in and heard your message. Is everything ok?”
There was a pause, and then he asked if he could come over.
“Actually, Anthony, I’d like to come over if that’s ok.”
Instantly my heart started racing as I tried figuring out what could be wrong.
“What? Why? I mean, yeah that’s fine, but, what’s wrong?”
“We’ll talk when I get there. Relax, though. It’ll be ok.”
“I’m still dressed, I can drive over to your place if it’s urgent. Or I c
an stop by after class tomorrow. You don’t have to drive up here tonight.”
“Anthony, I need to talk to you about something. It is urgent.”
“Ok, well, I can drive over there—”
“Son, I’d like to talk with you at your apartment.”
What the fuck? He had me worried now, and I began pacing around my apartment while I waited for him. During my pacing, I noticed my heart was pounding, and my pulse was faster than normal. I also noticed wax on my forearms and hurried to the bathroom to wash it off. I was drying my arms when the doorbell rang and ran to answer it.
My dad came in and asked me how school was.
“It was fine. Now, what’s so urgent?”
“I got a call today from one of the attorneys that handled the lawsuits…he informed me that during an altercation, Bruce shot and killed your mother and then killed himself with the same gun.”
I sat there motionless. Even though I was looking in the direction of my dad, I wasn’t seeing him. After all the years of them at each other’s throats, it was finally over. Bruce wouldn’t hurt her anymore. I was never able to save her from him.
“Anthony,” my dad saying my name brought me out of my daze, and I blinked a few times to force my eyes to focus.
I looked away from my dad’s worried and concerned look. They were dead. I tried to keep my breathing as calm and even as I could, but so much was going through my head.
They were dead, and I’d never had to see them again.
It was settling in now, and I was relieved that I’d never have to see them again. I nodded and looked at my dad and opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out right away.
“Talk to me, son,” my dad said as he gently squeezed my shoulder.
I gave him a small smile.
“I won’t ever have to see them again,” was all I could say.
“Son, did you know of any guns in the house? Had you ever seen any?”
I stared at my dad for a moment and found myself nodding despite telling myself not to admit to that. My dad seemed really angry all of a sudden and stood up to pace my living room.
“Dad,” I said his name, but he didn’t respond. What was wrong? I realized I was holding a hand over my heart and my abdomen and quickly pulled my hands away. “Dad, are you angry at me?” He stopped in mid-stride and looked at me.
“No! Jesus, no, Anthony. Why would I be angry with you?”
I shrugged.
“Because I’m not upset that they’re dead.”
“God, no, Anthony. They almost killed you several times.”
“Why are you mad then?”
“I’m mad that you grew up in that shit. Drugs, alcohol and they had guns in the house. How did you even survive?”
My dad pulled me off the couch and into a hug. I kept my arms to my side as my mind began drifting, though I caught it and tried to focus. My dad asked if I wanted to go to Las Vegas and go through anything at the house. I shook my head. I had nothing there. It was never my home.
“I…I don’t have to go to their funeral, do I?” I asked cautiously.
I know that I’d fight tooth and nail; I wasn’t going.
“No, son. You don’t have to go.”
“Are…are you going?”
“Not a chance in hell, Anthony. Look what they did to you.”
I breathed a sigh of relief that he and I were both on the same page. Glancing at my watch, it was almost midnight.
“I’m sorry you drove all the way out here to tell me that. You could have told me over the phone.”
“I wanted to be here for you in case you were upset.”
Oh. Realizing that’s what family does in times like these, I just nodded. I wasn’t upset though. Relief and elation flowed through my veins.
“If you want, you can stay here tonight, so you don’t have to drive an hour home,” I said to him.
He looked at me for a few moments and nodded.
“I will stay with you, son.”
“No…I.”
I frowned and looked at the floor. I didn’t want him to think that I needed someone to stay with me. I was fine. I didn’t need anyone. Especially after tonight. I was perfectly fine, and he misunderstood me.
“It’s ok, Anthony.”
“I don’t need anything, Dad. I’m fine. I just didn’t want you to have to drive all that way home with the traffic. It’s really late.”
I offered him my room, but he said he’d just rest on the couch and might watch some Sports Center. He encouraged me to go to bed though. I nodded and went to my room. I spotted my Kink Magazine on the dresser and quickly shoved it in a drawer away from all eyes. As I took my shower, I began to think about how concerned my dad was over this news and how it might impact me. He worried enough about it to want to be here with me, and he didn’t want me out on the road.
I decided to watch Sports Center with him for a while. He was all I had left. I made microwave popcorn for us and sat down next to him on the couch. I should probably feel kind of guilty for not being affected by the news of their deaths. But in a way, I was breathing easier. They were gone.
“No, Bruce! Stop it damn you! I said I’m in no mood for this now; I’ve got to go to work! Fucking get your hands off me! You’re high!”
I clamped my hands over my mouth as I hid under the cover of the coffee table that was surrounded by a wall and two sofas. I glanced to the center of the room at my mom lying on the floor, struggling and fighting against Bruce. He was ripping her outfit she was going to wear to work. She must be so mad. I had to get to her…but I was scared.
I watched from the cover of the coffee table as he pushed his way between her legs. She cried out and screamed my name. I hid my face on the side of the couch and covered my ear with my bear.
“Why don’t you go find Anthony, Bruce? Go mess with him! I’ve got to get to work.”
No! Why was she sending him to find me? I don’t like it when he does that. I tried to become invisible with the side of the couch I was hiding against. When I heard Connor’s voice, I turned my head to peek at what was going on.
“What the fuck do you need the gun for, Bruce?” Connor asked.
“Just to scare the bitch.”
I eyed the gun sitting on the floor and then turned my head, so my face was against the couch again. From the sounds, I could tell they were hurting her with their thingies. I hated that sound.
“Anthony! Help, mommy!” she screamed for me again.
“Where are you hiding you little fuck? Come save your fucking bitch mom! Come on, you little fuck! Your mommy has to go to work. Don’t make her late or you’ll get the belt.” Bruce yelled. “Don’t make me shoot your mom, Anthony. Be a big brave boy and come help her.”
I was brave. I could be. I wanted to help her. I crawled out from under the coffee table with my bear and barely stood up before I got knocked down.
“There you are, you little shit! Were you hiding? You suck at hiding! Look what I did to your mommy because you were too late. Why didn’t you want to help her?”
I clutched my tummy where Bruce had punched me. He was towering over me and pulled the belt from his belt loops.
“No! Please no!” I yelled and tried to crawl away.
Bruce caught me by my ankles and yanked me back toward him. I fell flat on my stomach and the wind was knocked out of me. I struggled to breathe as he yanked my pajama bottoms off and start hitting me with the belt. While Bruce was beating me, Connor was hurting my mom again.
Suddenly, my mom grabbed the gun and started waving it around and was fighting with Connor. Somehow, she got away from Connor, and Bruce stopped beating me to grab the gun. I crawled back under the coffee table with my bear and hid my face in his tummy when the gun went off.
My ears were ringing. I looked up, and Bruce was writhing around in pain, grabbing his foot. My hearing was gone, and I started crying. Why couldn’t I hear anymore? My mom ran to the phone and was waving her hands around while she spoke i
nto the phone. Connor’s feet appeared by the coffee table, and I was too scared to move. He lifted the coffee table up and reached down to picked me up. He pulled my pants up and carried me outside to the backyard. He sat down at the picnic table and held me on his lap. The backs of my legs hurt from being hit with the belt and sitting like this was uncomfortable. I was shaking and cold. Connor was talking, but I couldn’t hear him very well.
“Anthony…it’ll all be ok, sport. The police are going to be coming and the ambulance. You need to stay quiet, or they’re going to take your mom away.”
He was rubbing on my back and I was afraid he’d start hurting me. Why wasn’t he hurting me? I kept rubbing my ears and Connor pulled my hands away from them.
“It’ll stop ringing, sport. Mine are ringing too.”
I stayed still and held my bear over my tummy. From outside, I saw the police talking to my mom, and then the ambulance people came in with a stretcher. Mom bent down and kissed Bruce as he lay on the stretcher, and he wrapped his arm around her.
No! Why was she doing that and being nice to him? Why was he pretending to be nice to her? A police man opened the door and came outside to where Connor and I were. I started to get really scared.
Connor and the police man were talking and the officer kept looking at me, but I hid my face in my bear. I was starting to be able to hear again and was able to make out certain words and phrases.
“How are you related to the boy?” the officer asked.
“I’m his uncle,” Connor said.
He was not my uncle!
“Was the boy in the house at the time?”
“Yes, he was in the room.”
“The paramedics can look him over.”
“I think he will be ok, officer. Just a little shocked. I’ll see that he is taken care of.”
The officer kept looking at me and I kept turning my face away.
“Looks like he had a little accident.” The officer said and gave my back a gentle rub. It hurt badly because of the marks and bruises I have on my back. “You’ll get him cleaned up?”