Chapter 12
Torren
The Kitty Cat Club has every permutation of BDSM equipment you can imagine. I come here weekly—another routine to help me maintain control. Each time I leave this club, I feel relaxed. My mind becomes clear, and the darkness that threatens to pull me under dissipates for a little while after.
Tobias is right. This is exactly what I need—to let this sexual frustration I feel for Felix out in a safe space.
Felix is the only person I’ve ever been attracted to who has made me feel the way I felt the night it all happened. I’ve never had those kinds of violent impulses with other hookups—just normal kinky shit.
Sure, I’ll fuck someone up real bad if they deserve it, like the guy who hurt Trixie, but Felix is just…
A brat.
A beautiful brat, with life shimmering in his gorgeous eyes, and a naughty smile that makes me feral, but still just a brat. Not bad enough to bring out the demon in me. I laugh off most brats.
Why is this happening?
Hopefully, a night here will help me recenter.
My hand slaps against the wooden door, splintered and worn with time, and it slowly opens to reveal my buddy, Mac. “Boss man,” he says with affection as we clasp hands and he pulls me in for a warm embrace.
I pat his back as he gives me a bone-crushing hug, and rasp out, “Mac, you know I’m not the boss anymore.”
He shrugs, his muscles bulging as he does it. “You’ll always be the boss to me, Torren.”
Mac is a hulking, ogre of a man with far too many teardrop tattoos not to raise alarm.
We exchange pleasantries for a bit in the foyer before he opens the black velvet curtain for me to enter.
To my right are the stairs leading to the tenant’s rooms, and to my left are a series of doors.
At the end of the hall stands Calum, searching for patrons who want to enter the dungeon.
You can’t bring your own equipment, and the staff closely monitors any activity to ensure everyone’s safety.
Calum calls my name, tipping his head with respect, then continues searching the guests.
I walk through the first door on my left and enter what was once a living room.
It’s now a bar, illuminated by red lights and filled with cocktail tables where sex workers flirt with the customers.
The walls are covered with black soundproof paneling.
The chandelier above adds a touch of old-world charm, and lit candles adorn the tables.
I saunter to the bar, where Angelique greets me with a big smile. Her glass eye glows red under the lighting, and her white hair is curled into ringlets like Shirley Temple’s. She’s well over 60, but she dresses like a little girl.
“Torren! My favorite Kay brother. But don’t tell Tobias I said that,” she whispers the latter half and gives me a wink.
She leans in, and I kiss her on the cheek. “Just a whisky, neat. How’s life, darlin’?”
Angelique shrugs and says, “Meh. Same shit, different day,” and slides the whisky in front of me.
“Thanks, love. Is Tobias here tonight?”
I don’t love being in the dungeon at the same time as Tobias. Our sexual proclivities tend to gravitate toward the aggressive, and we often get competitive when we’re revved up.
“He’s upstairs talking business with some hotshot from New York, so I doubt he’ll be down for a while.”
That’s good news. “Downstairs busy?”
Angelique moves closer, opening one side of my coat and pulling out my smokes. She snags one with her lips and looks at me, waiting for a light.
“You could have just taken the lighter, too,” I say with a chuckle. “It’s in the same pocket as the smokes.” My gun is tucked away in the other pocket.
“I like it when you light my cigarette, baby. Makes me feel like a lady.” I do, and she takes a drag, smoke shooting out of her nose as she says, “Downstairs is lively for a weekday. I think you’ll find someone you like.”
I hope so.
“Any guys down there tonight? Maybe tall ones with brown hair?” If I can’t have him, then maybe I can have someone who looks like him.
“Oh, very particular tonight, are we? I’m not sure, my love. Most folks who come to the dungeon have one thing on their mind. They rarely see me first. They’re not as sweet as you are.”
“They’re missing out, sugar.” I take her hand and kiss it.
“What I wouldn’t give to be a tall man with brown hair right now.” She tosses the cigarettes she swiped and coos, “Have fun tonight, sweetie. I’ll be thinking of you the whole time.”
I chug my whisky in one go and exit through the second door directly across from the Dungeon’s entrance.
“Torren, my man!” Calum fist-bumps me. “Do I need to search you, sir?”
My smirk is wicked as I reply, “Don’t call me ‘sir’ unless you wanna come downstairs with me.”
He chuckles as he plays with the edge of my jacket and says, “If I weren’t working the door tonight, I would.”
“Naughty boy. I’ve got nothing on me, but check anyway. Policies should be enacted consistently.”
Calum nods, then pats me down. “Have fun, Torren.”
The moment I hear my boots against the stone stairs, a rush washes over me. This place changes my brain chemistry, and I’m itching to get down there and let this all out.
The blinding overhead lighting of the check-in station creates a disorienting effect.
My jacket lands on the ground first. I kick off my boots, then disrobe, unceremoniously tossing my clothing to the ground.
Once fully nude, I put my boots back on and hand my clothing to the twins working clothes-check.
It’s stored in a bag labeled with a number.
They write the same number with a marker on my right arm for when I leave.
The crisp, cool air chills my skin as I walk to the center of the dungeon, which reminds me of a junction where each road takes you to a different destination. Do I go into the maze? The dark room? Perhaps someone is waiting at the Saint Andrew’s Cross.
The place is crowded. People mill about with hungry eyes, each one licking their chops when I arrive.
I’d rather pick someone to be the object of my obsession for the evening—a willing participant to take to a private cabin and do whatever I want.
Yeah. That’s what I want.
Rather than choosing a destination, I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with sweat and popper-scented air and ask in a deep, gravelly voice, “Who wants to play?”
“I do.”
Felix
It’s colder than it should be for September.
There’s a bite in the air that seeps into the marrow of my bones.
It feels more like November, when the winds pierce your skin like a knife.
The Uber that took me here didn’t even know where to drop me off.
Once he saw the entrance was down an alley, he told me to walk it and sped away.
My instincts tell me to turn on my heels and run for dear life, but the ghost of his hand around my neck propels my feet forward.
This alley looks like a perfect spot to murder someone.
I swallow the lump in my throat and press on. This is a terrible decision, but I didn’t come here to make good ones.
I want to find him, and I will.
Standing before my destination, my stomach drops, and the skin on the back of my neck stands. That frigid feeling intensifies. This place is bad. Every fiber of my being knows it, but something beyond my control brings my fist to the door.
My knocking is met with the sound of scraping on the other side, followed by the door opening to reveal the most enormous monster of a man I’ve ever seen.
He looks me up and down, his face twisted into a sneer. “What do you want?” he asks.
Oh fuck. I didn’t think about this part. I just took the address from Gabe and acted on instinct. Is there a secret password? A membership?
My mind races with a million and one excuses before I finally blurt out. “To get fucked by Torren Kay.”
Wow, Felix. Just laying all the cards on the table, aren’t we?
The ogre before me purses his lips and then motions me to enter. “The dungeon is that way. Mr. Kay just went downstairs. Does he know you’re coming?”
Nope, and he’ll be mad as hell to see me. “He’s expecting me, but no need to let him know. I’ll find him.”
He leans in and sniffs me—literally sniffs me. “Nah, he’ll find you.” A wicked grin stretches across his face, and I shudder in response.
I back away, growing more uncomfortable by the moment as he leers at me, then bump into someone. “Fuckin’ watch it, twink!”
I spin toward the voice and stutter out, “I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t—”
“Arms out, and spread your legs,” he barks at me.
“What? Huh?”
“Arms out, and spread your legs. I need to check you,” he hollers.
Searching people before they enter the dungeon. That’s a good sign…right?
I say nothing, but obediently follow his orders. His hands pat my sides, my torso, and over my legs. A nod of the head and a quiet, “Go on,” are all I get to indicate that the search is over.
The dark stairwell sends my heart into my throat, and the crisp, cracking sounds of flesh being smacked and the wails that follow nearly make me choke.
It’s a dungeon. A fucking dungeon, Felix. What are you doing?”
“Finding him,” I reply to the scared, hapless nitwit inside my head.
I reach the bottom of the stairs, and my excitement upon seeing him at the check-in station nearly makes me scream. Torren is undressing himself right in front of me. I creep back, hiding myself as I watch him toss articles of clothing to the ground.
He’s beautiful.
Torren’s honey-colored skin makes me lick my lips, and the curves of his muscles glisten under the harsh lighting. His black hair has a blue sheen under the intense illumination. He slides his jeans down, revealing the globes of his ass, and all I want to do is get on my knees and eat him out.
If I’m being honest with myself, I wouldn’t stop with his ass. I’d lick wherever he’d let me. The idea of submitting to Torren and worshiping him makes a fire blaze in the base of my stomach.
He’s entirely naked until he slips his boots back on over his socks, and I nearly expire right there on the steps. The image of my brute with nothing but a pair of boots on is enough to send me into cardiac arrest.
My heart thunders in my chest. I want to approach, but the beauty of his naked body glues me to the floor. All I can do is gaze upon this perfect specimen of a man and hope to God this is the night he decides to take me.
He struts away, snapping me out of my trance. I emerge from the shadows and rush toward the check-in area. I’m frantic, desperate not to lose him.
“Hi,” I awkwardly say.
A man and woman stand before me. I can’t tell if they’re actually twins or if their dyed hair, matching angel wings, and bored expressions just make them look that way.
Without breaking eye contact with me, the girl pulls a bag from under the desk and says, “Strip,” before gazing at her enormous sparkly nails.
My disrobing is nowhere near as sexy as Torren’s was. I’m clumsy, shaking with nerves as I rip off my clothes with the grace of a newborn horse.
The attendants watch my ridiculous display, each with a single raised eyebrow.
I’m finally naked, and I take a moment to slide back on my high tops. I’m handed the bag, and I toss my stuff in. The male attendant writes the number that corresponds to my bag with a black marker on my arm, then signals me to enter.
I rush in. He’s here, and I can’t lose him. I want him to see me, naked and vulnerable. He wants me. I know it, and I just need to—
A crowd of people parts, revealing Torren.
He stands in the middle of the floor, like a gladiator awaiting his challenger. With outstretched arms, he motions his head up ever so slightly and says, “Who wants to play?” in a voice that would make even the most rabid dog heel.
I speak before my mind knows what it’s doing. “I do.”
He whips his gaze to me. His face shudders. A moment of shock is followed by a sly smile.
Torren’s gaze rakes over my body, and then he cracks his neck. “Little boy, you chose the wrong night to come here.”