by Sam Crescent
Shakes nodded.
“I spoke to Demon today,” Zeke said.
“Why?”
“He’ll fill you in on that. Just know what I did, I did for my daughter.”
Shakes knitted his brows. “Don’t fuck with the club, Zeke, and don’t fuck with Daniella’s life. I’m a part of it for the long haul.”
“Don’t you regret getting booted out of the club?” Zeke asked.
He stopped for a second and thought about the club. “No, I don’t regret it.”
“Why?”
“When you’re part of the club, you have to come to terms with death being the end game. I accepted death since I had nothing to live for.”
“And now?”
“I’ve got Dani to lose, and the club can’t give me anything that would make me want to risk losing her. Before Dani, I chose death; after Dani, I choose life.”
Striker adjusted the baseball cap on his head, pulled up the collar on his leather jacket, and moved toward the BDSM club. He’d heard this one was pretty fucking hardcore; he knew that the excitement he felt in his blood could be very dangerous. He was going into Zeke’s domain, onto his territory, and he needed to make sure he was on alert. He hadn’t worn his cut, wasn’t letting his club markings show.
Tonight, he was here to watch, to see if what he saw made him want more, want to play with a fire even hotter.
There was a bouncer waiting at the front door, and the brightly lit red neon sign that read DOMINION cast a ruby glow a few feet in front of the sidewalk. There wasn’t a line of people waiting inside, but there were people discreetly dressed coming and going through the front doors. He stopped at the front door to let two women go ahead of him; their long leather jackets hid something wicked underneath. He just fucking knew it, knew that once he stepped through these doors, he might not ever want to come out.
Striker liked certain things when he was fucking. He liked a woman a certain way, liked when they were on their knees, looking up at him with tears in their eyes, their submission clear on their faces. He didn’t consider himself a sick bastard, not in the sexual sense at least. He just liked a certain amount of pain with his pleasure, a certain amount of power when he fucked a woman.
He did like to leave his marks on the females, liked to show them he was the one in charge, and it was up to him to give them pleasure if he saw fit. He wanted them restrained, bound, and completely helpless to him. Their tears were an added touch; he was harder than rock when he saw those glistening droplets. He’d licked them off their cheeks before, making them cry harder when he whispered how much he’d enjoy beating them, leaving their pretty bodies black and blue.
But the women were always willing, always wanted what he gave them. They were pain sluts in every sense of the word, loved to submit to him solely for the fact that he was their Dominant and they wanted to obey him to heighten the pleasure.
He stopped in front of the bouncer, eyed the fucker up and down, and although he was big and bulky, muscular and tall, Striker was bigger, more powerful.
“You know the rules?” The bouncer asked, maybe sensing, or hell, just knowing Striker had never been here before. But before Striker could say anything, the bouncer was speaking again. “All are welcome, but the cover is a hundred.”
Striker handed over the money.
“You want to participate, you pay for a membership. Only willing participants are allowed, and if someone says their safe word, you stop or you get bones broke.” The bouncer stared at Striker. “Other than that, anything goes.” He pushed the door open for Striker, and without waiting for him to say anything else Striker went inside.
The walls on either side of him looked like black leather, the lighting the same red as the sign outside. There was another door at the end of the hallway where another bouncer waited. He opened the door when Striker was close enough, and Striker stepped into the massive room. The ceilings seemed a hundred feet high, the metal beams exposed, and a rush of adrenaline coursed through him.
He walked farther into the room, and the door closed behind him. But Striker didn’t care about anything except what was right in front of him.
The spanking benches, St. Andrew’s Cross, bondage beds, sawhorses, and an array of other BDSM equipment and play gear all increased his excitement and anticipation. He clenched his hands at his sides when he saw the racks of tools, whips, floggers, the tables filled with medical instruments, sensory tools, and anything else he could think of to torment and pleasure his submissive.
There were rooms in the back—private, VIP rooms where he knew he could be as sadistic as he wanted, as long as the woman he took back with him was willing to wear his marks.
It didn’t take Striker long to realize he wouldn’t just be watching tonight. No, he’d need to participate, need to get out this wild energy with a woman that was into the same kind of pleasure and pain he was.
Zeke decided to walk to Dominion tonight, needed the air to clear his head. He was going to be a grandfather. Who in the fuck would have ever thought he’d be a father, let alone a grandfather? He shook his head, feeling this kind of happiness that was pure and felt right inside of him. Daniella might never fully understand that the things he’d done to make sure she was safe and taken care of. He’d work on his relationship with Shakes, even if the majority of the time he wanted to beat the living shit out of the little fucker.
He inhaled his cigarette, knowing he should quit smoking. However, he felt like his nerves were on edge, like he was about to jump right out of his fucking skin.
He was walking toward three punks leaning against the side of a building. They straightened from the wall and took a step toward him. One of them even took out a switchblade. Zeke stopped under the streetlight, inhaled again then exhaled slowly, and lowered his hand to his side to let them see who he was.
Their eyes widened, they held up their hands, and then they turned and left.
Zeke finished his cigarette, snubbed the butt out on the side of the building, and continued walking. He shoved his hands in his pockets, his mind on his daughter, on his unborn grandchild, and then onto the darker things like work.
He walked toward Dominion, the one that was more hardcore, had a more discrete clientele, and the only club where he was able to fully explore his own darker needs. The sound of a woman whimpering came through the darkness. He stopped, listened, and heard it again, across the street, and in the darkened alleyway.
Zeke might be a bastard, might kill people, torture his enemies, and do a lot of fucked up shit, but he wasn’t about to walk away from a woman who might be in trouble.
Crossing the street, he made his way toward the alleyway, and grabbed the gun tucked at the small of his back. He stepped into the dark, narrow space, and saw a woman pressed to the wall. A man stood close to her, his hand on her throat, a knife in his grip.
“You’ll do well to shut the fuck up and take this like a good little slut.”
She whimpered.
Zeke cocked his gun, loving the thrill of the violence right at the surface.
“Get the fuck out of here,” the guy said to Zeke without looking over at him.
“You better back the fuck off, or I’ll put a bullet through your dick before shooting you in the feet so you have to crawl out of here like the snake you are.” Zeke said in a deadly, calm voice.
The guy finally looked over at him, and Zeke could tell by the lack of fear on the man’s face that he had no clue who Zeke was. Well, he’d find out soon enough.
“I’m not going to ask again. Me even giving you a warning is more than I’d do for anyone else, motherfucker.”
The guy stepped forward, the knife raised high.
“Sweetheart, get the hell out of here,” Zeke said, holding his gaze on the man. The woman ran off, crying as she stumbled out of the alleyway.
“You some kind of vigilante or something?” The guy said and chuckled.
“Hardly.” Zeke pointed the gun at the asshole’s cock, an
d without thinking, just grinning, he shot the prick right in the, well, prick. The guy screamed, dropped the knife, and cupped himself. He’d bleed to death from that shot alone, but Zeke pulled the trigger, putting a bullet in the top of each of his feet. He fell to the ground, screaming, but there would be no one to help him. Zeke owned this city, and if he didn’t want anyone fucking touching this would-be rapist, then this little bastard would bleed out here on the dirty ground like the scumbag he was.
“Next time a woman says no, that means back the fuck off, motherfucker.” Zeke turned and left him bleeding out on the ground, feeling a rush of power flow through him. He might be a bad motherfucker, evil to most, dangerous to all, but he wasn’t about to let a vulnerable woman get raped in an alley. No, Zeke would kill the fucker that thought to take something from a woman that she wasn’t willing to give.
There was nothing like a bit of violence to calm the ever-present monster within Zeke. He didn’t think about the guy he’d just punished in that dirty darkened alley. Instead, his thoughts went back to his daughter and his grandchild. Okay, so he was mightily pissed that Shakes had knocked his daughter up. For a time, he’d been happy to pretend that even though they were together, they weren’t having sex. Stupid to think, but it was what kept him away from Shakes. Now, he had the evidence that Shakes was touching his little girl, and it pissed him off.
However, he loved Daniella, and she was so much like him that he knew she’d follow through with her threat, and he’d never get to know her kid. He didn’t want that. What he didn’t want was to think about his kid having sex. What kind of father ever wanted to know what his daughter was doing behind closed doors? He sure didn’t. He was a guy himself and knew what twisted shit guys were thinking. They were not all like him but still, most guys wanted to fuck.
When his grandson was born, he hoped he was a little terror, and had Shakes rushing around all over the place.
What if it’s a girl?
He paused as the thought passed through his mind. Zeke didn’t like it. If he had a granddaughter, he was going to have to start killing boys who even looked at her. Fuck, his rather happy mood turned sour at the thought of little pricks chasing around a younger version of Daniella. He’d have to start killing them off young.
The moment he walked up toward the bouncer guarding the door of Dominion, the guy tensed up.
“Hey, boss.”
“Hey.” He wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries. His good mood had evaporated the moment he’d realized that he might have to protect another young girl. Fucking priceless. He was considered the worst kind of monster to fuck over, and now he was thinking of protecting a little girl that hadn’t even been born.
If he really thought about it, Daniella shouldn’t have been born.
“I need to talk to you, boss,” the guy said.
“What about?” Zeke asked. He wanted to go into his club, pick a woman to torture and fuck, then go home. The last thing he wanted to talk about was actual business. He’d dealt earlier that week with Dominion business, and had to kill the fucking barman for slapping around his girls, and taking money from the till. Zeke didn’t allow anyone who stole from him, or touched the girls, to get away with it.
Apart from Shakes.
That slippery little fucker had evaded getting killed because of Dani.
“I thought you’d like to know that a Soldier is here.”
The way he said it, Zeke knew he wasn’t referring to a military man. The Soldiers were known for being unpredictable. Zeke always wanted to be aware of their presence in his club, any of his clubs. “Are you fucking sure?”
“Yes. He’s not wearing colors, but you got all of us to recognize them. He paid in cash, and he entered a few minutes ago.”
He didn’t need this today.
“Thanks.” Entering the club, Zeke was on high alert. He was no longer looking for some fun, but a for guy who might be here to fucking kill him. Zeke wouldn’t put it past Demon. He’d tried to threaten him to take Shakes back into the club, but that had been a waste of time. Demon had agreed to talk to him, to see where Shakes stood with everything.
Entering his club slowly, Zeke didn’t admire the artwork of the torture taking place. Women moaning and screaming in both pleasure and pain filled the room, but it didn’t call to Zeke.
He’d learned at a young age that pleasure came after business. Walking around the club, he did it slowly so that he saw everyone and everything. Zeke didn’t stop to exchange pleasantries, nor did he respond to the women who’d noticed him. He’d pick the bitch that was going to be on the end of his dick later.
“You can stop looking for me,” Striker said.
Zeke recognized him instantly. The moment he’d made his mind up to do business with the Soldiers of Wrath MC crew, he’d gotten information on all of them, including this one.
“You’re alone and without your club marks showing.”
“I’m not here because of the club.”
Zeke recognized Striker represented no threat. “You better come to my office. Shit that needs saying doesn’t need an audience, and walls have fucking ears.”
Leading the way toward his office, he opened the door, flicking on the light. He smiled when he saw Tora still chained up in her cage in the corner of his office. But the woman moaned in pleasure when she saw Zeke. He didn’t allow pleasure to come before business; however, it didn’t stop him from taking pleasure in his office.
Tora wasn’t in his office for pleasure. She had been a very naughty girl.
He’d fucked her a couple of times. Her pussy wasn’t all that good, since she was loose as a fucking crack whore wanting her next fix. Her ass still provided a good source of release, and he loved it when she begged for him to stop, all the while riding him harder than fuck.
She was a good ass screw, and she liked it when he used his belt on her ass. The problem was, she thought she meant a little more to him than a simple fuck. She’d started mouthing off to the other girls and telling the men how the place was going to be run. No one told his workers how to do shit. No one.
“Give me a moment while I deal with her,” he said.
Opening the cage, he pulled Tora out and made sure she was on her feet. “The next time you think of talking back to the other girls, you think again. You’re nothing but a fuck, Tora. You mean nothing to me, and I’ve told the men you’re free goods. They want to fuck you, and you’re willing, they can.”
“That’s rape,” she said a little too breathlessly. She liked to pretend she didn’t like it.
It wasn’t, not when it came to her. Zeke saw the lust in her eyes. The girl was a whore. She loved cock, relished it when it was rough and hard.
“It’s not if you want it, Tora, and you and I both know you love it. I’m done with you.” He flicked his hand toward the door letting her know he was finished.
Once the door was closed, he turned toward Striker. “Now, do you want a full membership into my club?”
Zeke had recognized the same darkness within Striker that he had inside himself the first time he’d met the man.
“What? You’re not going to throw me out because of the club?”
“My relationship with the Soldiers has nothing to do with you, or the fact you’re here,” he said. “I know what it’s like to need a certain kind of release. This is the only club that caters to that kind of darkness. The women here are always willing. I accept a lot of shit, but rape isn’t one of them, so let’s put that out front right away. I’ve got a daughter and I won’t allow that kind of shit. Now, if you desire a rape scene played out and the woman is willing, consents, and all that shit, then fine.”
He stared at Striker and wasn’t surprised to find him frowning.
“What’s the problem?” Zeke asked.
“The club?”
“This isn’t about your club. We’ve got our differences, but this isn’t about club business. This is about you becoming a member of Dominion, if that’s what you want. Y
ou can come here, and your business will not be made public.”
Striker remained silent for a moment. “I can do what I want with the women as long as they are wiling?”
Zeke nodded.
“Then I’m in.”
Zeke fired up the computer and typed in Striker’s information. “The fee is over five grand, you good for it?”
“Yes.”
“Now, the girls all have a safe word. You don’t stop, and the guards will make you stop. They’ll break fingers, legs, and even your fucking neck, do you understand?”
“I’m not about to hurt a woman unless she wants me to.”
Zeke raised his brow at the man.
“I’ll take a grand as down payment,” Zeke said.
He wasn’t surprised when Striker pulled out a wad of cash.
Finishing off the membership, he printed a card, and handed it to him.
“We expect the rest of your payment within forty-eight hours. If you don’t pay, you don’t stay.”
“Do you say that to a lot of men?” Striker asked.
“You’d be surprised the number of the men, and women, who want a membership. There are a lot of people out there who want what I provide.”
Zeke smiled at him.
“Have a nice time.”
He watched Striker leave the office and leaned back in his chair. Now this was a development he hadn’t seen coming. Maybe having Striker in the club would help his future friendship with the Soldiers. He liked the Soldiers; they got shit done and were prepared to take all the risks.
Running a hand down his face, he opened his desk drawer to place the money Striker had given him and froze. Daniella’s photographed face smiled back up at him.
He couldn’t let anything happen to his little girl. Zeke had to make right what he’d fucked up when he’d denied Shakes’ request to be with his daughter. First, he needed to find someone to fuck and work out this aggression that had taken over.
Although Shakes wasn’t a patched in member with the Soldiers anymore, he’d still kept connections with them. He didn’t regret one day out of the club, not when it meant being with Daniella, and now becoming a father.