Jaheim
Eight Years Ago…
“You quit school?” Evette shouts, horrified.
Shit… “Yeah…”
She paces the front room, repeatedly taking looks at me and looking seriously pissed. “This don’t make sense, Jaheim. Why? What happened?”
“I got injured and the physio said it won’t get better.”
She stops to look at me. “We’ll get a second opinion. We can fix it.”
I scoff. “There ain’t no fixing it.”
There ain’t no fixing me. Whatever the fuck I am now has ruined my life. I almost killed someone… Luca’s lucky not to have any permanent damage after the punch I landed to his head. Thank fuck he moved and didn’t get the full force of my fist, cuz I don’t think concussion would’ve been all he’d be suffering from right now.
I can’t risk being around people anymore. I also can’t hide the fact I’m so much faster and stronger than everyone else on my team by miles.
Or hide my lack of injuries.
I’m trying to control it, to suppress it, but I can’t lie and say that my body doesn’t crave to let go and be the other me.
“But it’s been your dream your whole life.” She looks distraught. “It can’t just be over like that.”
I clench my fists, feeling the anger rising inside me. I fucking know that!All I ever wanted to be was a footballer, but now my life is fucked because I’m stuck with a disease that I can’t get rid of or tell anyone about. “Well, it is, so I need to decide on what I’m gonna do now. I was thinking of getting into real estate, maybe use my money to flip real estate.”
She suddenly begins to cry, so I go over to hug her. “It’s alright, Evette.” That’s a blatant lie. I feel like my life has ended. But I can’t even kill myself.
Believe me, I've tried.
“I’m sorry… I know this must be so hard on you, and here I am crying over it.”
I pat her back to soothe her. “You’re upset for me, I get it, but there ain’t nothing anyone can do.”
No fucking body.
She pulls out of my arms. “And you’re sure you don’t wanna get a second opinion?”
“No, Evette. It’s over, so I just gotta move on.”
***
I go up to my room to check my emails. I’ve been waiting on one for about a week now. This is my last resort; if this don’t help me, then I don’t know what will.
I open my MacBook.
And there it is.
Dear, Mr Lawrence.
I am pleased to inform you that your application has been accepted.
Your first payment is due within twenty-four hours on receipt of this email, upon which, you will be informed of the location of our next event. Please read the attached correspondence regarding your commitment to the club, and most importantly, the rules for participation.
If you wish to attend with a plus one, you must apply for a pass for that person so they can be vetted as you were. They will also need to provide the necessary documents and fee for us to be able to process their application.
Please note; this process takes five working days.
If you require any further assistance, please do not hesitate to contact us. Your unique password will be sent to you within twenty-four hours of the next event and must be given to the concierge on entry.
Welcome to Hush, Mr Lawrence, and we look forward to seeing you at our next event.
Warm regards,
Janelle Petersen.
Hush Administrator
I’m in.
I had to get a fake ID, but that was easy enough to get from a link at school. This shit is my last resort. I found out about it on the dark web; that’s how desperate I am. These self-discipline methods I've found haven’t done a fucking thing to help me, and the girls I’ve been fucking with can’t take my new dick how I want them to, so I need to find women who like pain as part of their pleasure.
I’ve always needed a lot of sex, but since I changed into this, it’s been worse than ever. And I’ve noticed on a full moon it’s even worse.
I’m praying that I can find others like me, maybe pick up their scent. I can’t be the only one. There must be more.
Hopefully, I find a female one…
***
I only have to wait a week for the next event, which is in Toronto at Casa Loma castle. As I walk up the long drive to the entrance, passing the huge water feature at the front, I feel both curious and excited about what I’m gonna find inside.
I adjust my mask and then my tie; I’m wearing a black tux; everyone is required to wear formal attire. The rules are strict, but I understand why. I don’t even care; I just hope I’m finally gonna get some pussy after three months. But as badly as I want that, it’s the thought of being with an older woman that’s exciting me most.
Getting phone numbers from people you meet here is strictly forbidden, so is taking off your mask. Everyone must remain anonymous – this is how this shit works, and if you get caught breaking the rules, it’s an automatic ban.
There are already people fucking inside. I’ve not only been hearing the sounds of pleasure from inside since I got close but also the scent of pussy and cum. My dick is already semi-hard, so I keep my hands in front of me to hide it from view for now.
I enter the building and give my password of extravagance to the concierge, then I make my way through a long corridor towards the various rooms. It’s dimly lit throughout but that don’t affect me. It could be pitch black and I’d still see clear as day.
I suppose I’m lucky in that respect.
There are many floors and hella sections; whatever you’re looking for. They are labelled, and the email clearly stated that there would be sections for masochism, urophilia, roleplay, bondage, nylons, dominance, amongst a hell of a load of others I don’t know.
There are women screaming along with men, and the sounds of thrusting, spanking, and whipping come from all around me. My dick is hard as fuck now, and I’m glad I decided to get these suit pants in the next size up.
I didn’t wear anything underneath.
I enter the voyeurism room where there are various scenes of men and women being orally pleasured. There are a few harnesses over to the right with both men and women restrained in them. My eyes are drawn to a thick woman who’s currently spread open being pounded by a black brother while another is on a stool forcing his dick down her throat.
She gags repeatedly, but the man stops every few strokes to let her catch her breath before continuing. Her brown skin is flushed all over and her thighs are marked from where it looks like she’s been slapped or pinched.
She’s definitely aroused, though, I can sense it.
I look around the rest of the room. Some people are here as couples wearing matching masks, some are alone, sitting on the couches just observing. There are women and men that go and instigate scenes with the loners; some decline, some accept.
I make my way through the room, over to the stairs at the back so I can find the section I’m here for, though.
Masochism.