Page 2 of A Stable Daddy

Still, I can appreciate the sight of the large spit slicked cock currently pistoning in and out of cherry red lips on the projector screen.

“I hope so, too,” my friend agrees, “it would suck if they had to close.”

Even though the contract I signed three weeks ago means I won’t be able to be a regular anymore, the thought of never being able to visit my friends in the community in our favourite hangout makes my stomach twist and churn with anxiety.

“Yeah,” I agree solemnly, “it would.”

We lean against a wall near the occupied couches and chat quietly as we watch people interacting. I’ve already spotted a couple of promising looking Doms, assuming they’re willing toplay with another man. I know I could always find Lisa and beg her to strap me to the cross and lash my back the way I know she enjoys the most, but I’d much prefer a man to take control tonight and push me over the edge of orgasm. I’m antsy and I need sexual release as well as the endorphins of subspace.

One of the new Doms catches me watching him as he slowly wraps a rope bunny in a complicated shibari pattern. I’m mesmerised by how sensual and methodical his movements are, and how beautifully they move together as she anticipates every strap and twist of the silky looking rope.

Once she’s fully trussed, completely naked bar for the criss-crossing emerald pattern over her beautiful Black skin, I watch him bend her over. He threads the fingers of one hand through a section of rope on her back and tugs her until she’s arching back to meet him. With his free hand, he pulls a condom from his pocket, tears the foil square open with his teeth, then rolls the latex sheath over his rigid cock, locking his eyes with mine as he sinks inside his play partner.

He forces her to hold her pose as he fucks her slowly, but my attention is focused solely on him. She cries out her release and bucks in his hold, and his eyes shift from mine as he releases the rope to grab at her hips and fuck her with wild abandon.

It’s that wildness which makes my cock stir to life. I want that sort of energy directed my way.

And so, after they’ve finished and cleaned up, and he has presumably taken her into one of the quiet rooms for some aftercare, I seek him out.

“Wanna play?” he asks me, cocking his head to the side as we stand facing each other in a quiet hallway, rows of doors on either side of us. Muted moans and sounds of others enjoying themselves occasionally filter out, but I don’t pay them any mind.

I nod. “I’d like that, yeah.”

He makes a show of looking me up and down. I try not to fidget beneath the appraisal. I know I look ridiculous in what I’m wearing, and I’m at least a decade older than him, too. But I need this tonight. “Limits?” he asks.

“I don’t do humiliation,” I tell him, quirking my lips into a self-deprecating smile. “Well, no more than wearing this outfit out tonight.” He snorts, and I feel the tension in my shoulders loosen. “No CNC, no watersports, no scat play. Also, my knees aren’t what they used to be, so I can’t kneel for extended periods of time.” I cock my head. “You?”

The Dom nods contemplatively. “I can work with that.”

I frown a little, not liking that he avoided the question, but the desperation to submit and find subspace pushes me onwards. “Standard traffic light safe-words?”

He shakes his head. “If you’re going to safeword, I want to hear you say ‘Grenade’.”

I bite my lip. It’s certainly not a word I would casually drop into conversation, but I don’t love it. Nevertheless, I can’t think of a reason not to agree. “Okay,” I tell him. “Where do you want me?”

I follow him into one of the private rooms, which is small to the point of feeling cramped. It’s the size of a glorified storage cupboard, containing a plastic seat and not much else.

“I want you to undo my pants, get on your knees and suck my cock,” he demands, and I hesitate.

I did just tell him that I can’t be on my knees for long, but I suppose I didn’t tell him that it was completely off the table, so I can only hope that this won’t be a long session on the floor.

“Yes, Sir,” I answer when my hesitation goes on for just a touch too long. Then I do as he’s requested, unbuckling his belt and hitching his jeans down before I sink to my knees in front of him.

“Condom?” I ask him, confident with my question considering the fact that I watched him use one earlier.

He shakes his head. “I’m negative.”

“I’d be more comfortable if—”

“Do you want to play or not?” he snaps.

I swallow roughly.

I should use my safe-word. I should walk away. My instincts are telling me I’m making the wrong decision by not following through.

But I’m older than most of the people here tonight, and the majority have paired up already anyway. If I don’t seize this opportunity to be dominated, there’s every chance I’ll leave the club even more frustrated and caught up in my head than when I arrived.

With my heart hammering, I open my mouth and he thrusts into it without warning, his fingers sinking into the greying hair on my head, gripping and tugging it painfully. Tears spring to my eyes, caused both by the rough treatment and by my instant regret.

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