Page 30 of Stabby Little

I pick it up and cradle it in my hands. My eyes burn, but I force myself not to be a little bitch.

“Thank you, Christian.”

No one's ever given me a stuffy before. This is the sweetest thing anyone's done for me.

Christian places his hand on my shoulder. “It'll keep your black heart stuffy company.”

9

GRANT

Saturday, May 16th

Dark clouds roll overhead as I step out of my BMW. The classical radio station I listen to warned of a tornado tonight. New York is on lockdown and the only safe places are low buildings with few windows.

The Little Bunny Club fits that bill. When Constantine invited me, I wasn't prepared. I hadn't played in the scene in years and I didn’t have time.

Jagger’s right: I need to research who the hell that kid is who crept into the bathroom with Xavier Sanchez. Michael won't be occupied with his niece's wedding forever. When the tables turn, I must be prepared.

The club rises before me like a beacon of safety. Thunder cracks in the distance, yet the lights emanating from the club's door paint a picture of comfort and warmth. The scent of vanilla reaches my nose, no doubt from the air fresheners Constantine and his brothers placed at strategic parts of the venue. The sound of pulsating music thrums in my ears, the bass knocking.

I thrust my hands in my pockets. Do I really want to do this? Do I want to play with Constantine's new recruit tonight?

Quit dancing around the issue. Get it over with.

Truthfully, there's another reason I haven't returned to the club. When Linda divorced me, it left me with uncomfortable questions I wasn't prepared to answer. I'd only been with women before; I'd never given a second thought to a man. After we experimented with boys, I resolved that I was bicurious, yet I didn't push further.

That was four years ago.

My fantasies haven't been about women in years.

Young men fill my screen when I watch porn.

Hot, youthful college students with slim, muscular bodies and great packages.

Uncut.

Cut.

Big dicks.

Small dicks.

It doesn't fucking matter.

I want every man I can get my hands on.

I've become an addict for virtual cock.

Pushing the door open, I step inside the club. The vanilla fragrance is stronger here, and I inhale it deeply as I shut the door behind me, then walk to the bar. I've been here enough times to know the layout.

The top floor is for power exchange role play scenarios and hardcore BDSM. Leather swings hang from the ceiling surrounded by chains and shackles. Baskets of paddles, canes, and whips sit at various places, providing guests with easy access to the instruments of their choice.

Sex toys lie on a mahogany table that Gianluca keeps watch over. Hooks and eyelets knotted with suspension ropes dangle next to the table, offering patrons nights of endless pleasure. Sensory-deprivation gear such as blindfolds are placed next to clear bottles of lube that guests can use at will.

Linda loved shibari. At first, nothing stimulated her more than powerful men tying her up in knots and penetrating her. She loved my cock in her pussy and another man's in her throat, and I was more than inclined to go along with it. Something about the sight of another man's shaft buried between my wife's lips did it for me.

Later, she only wanted me to fuck her while I sucked cock. She rubbed her clit while I bobbed on a boy's dick, swirling my tongue around his glans. She liked when I played with his balls, squeezing them gently, then swiping my tongue along his taint and licking his asshole.

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