Gen introduced everyone around the table to Matty — Horse and Gabby, Brain and Harmony, Duke and Gen, Bash and Angelica, Nix and Tippy. Gonzo approached us as she finished.
“And I’m Gonzo. I’m working tonight so I can’t join you, but I wanted to make sure you feel welcome. I have excellent hearing, so if you just say my name a tiny bit louder than you would for a normal conversation, I’ll hear you and will find you. We pride ourselves on keeping customers safe.”
“Thanks, brother,” I told him.
“Don’t mention it.”
“Cassie texted to let me know they’re on the way,” Gen said. “With Abbott out of town, Isaac was a little later getting away from the club than he expected.”
The largest table in this section is round and will easily hold sixteen people, though we’ve squeezed as many as twenty around it. Four place settings were waiting for Cassie and her men, but I couldn’t think of a way to explain to Matty who was coming without saying, “They didn’t want us to be the only gay people at the table, so they invited a poly group of three men and a woman.”
Perhaps I should’ve told him before we arrived, but I hadn’t thought of it.
Matty politely answered questions about what he was studying in school and where he worked before Brain moved the discussion to his Motorcross career. Several minutes into the conversation about his past races, he said, “I got a voicemail today — a major sponsor asking if I’d be interested in doing the MX-Cross series next year, and stressed how it’s a shorter series than Motorcross and won’t take up so much time. He was aware I’ve turned down all offers for years, and he suggested a compensation range that got my attention.” He looked at me. “I haven’t called him back yet. I wanted to talk to you about it. If I’m interested, they want me to race the final three or four races this year, so I can begin putting a team together and working the kinks out, and I’ll have a better shot at the championship next year.”
“MX-Cross. They race in football stadiums, right?”
“Yes, and the infields of race tracks. If I take them up on it, they want my first race this year to be at Daytona.”
“I’ll support you however you need me to. If it works out with your work, school, and finances, and it’s something you want to do? Go for it.”
I stood to greet Isaac and Francisco with handshakes, and I gave Cassie and Cam a hug. Gen handled introductions between them and Matty, and I immediately picked up on the fact Matty didn’t like Cam.
I couldn’t figure it out — Cam was friendly to Matty, but my boy obviously had a problem with the other man. Thankfully, it didn’t come out in conversation and I didn’t think anyone else picked up on it.
The ol’ladies dragged Cam and Matty onto the dance floor, and I soon realized Cam was a much better dancer. Not that Matty isn’t good, because he can rock a dance floor until my cock is granite hard, but Cam was better.
My boy seemed to pull off being sociable without being snippy though, which was a relief. I made excuses and we left a little earlier than I would’ve if everything had been going well, but not so much anyone noticed.
Matty helped me put our helmets up and lock up in the garage, and I waited until we were in the house to say, “You didn’t like Cam.”
“He’s a diva. Thinks he’s better than everyone else. I don’t like his type.”
I followed him to my bedroom. He was supposed to take his clothes off when we got home, without being prompted.
“I’ve been around Cam a lot, and I’ve never gotten that vibe from him. He’s a dancer, and he can be a little high strung, but he’s a slave to Isaac and Frisco, not just a submissive. Cassie’s submissive, but from what I gather, Cam has no autonomy at all. He’s completely owned. TPE.”
He stepped into my bedroom, took his shirt off, and sat to remove his boots. “Good for them. I’d just rather not be around his type. And why were they there, anyway?”
I sighed. “The ol’ladies thought it’d be a good idea to remind everyone they’ve accepted other gay couples into our social circle.”
He cut his eyes to me a few seconds, clearly not amused the foursome had only been invited because we were there, and I shrugged. “The MC’s leaders have accepted me, but not all of the rank and file have. I have no problems playing politics a little until we’re established as a couple.”
“The ol’ladies were talking about spending time in the clubhouse. It sounds like there’s lots of parties.”
“There are, but you’ll need to understand some rules before I take you there.”
“Rules? Because I have a dick and not a cunt?” He looked up from working on his boots, his eyes glued to mine so I’d see his little diva attitude.
I sighed. Damn, something had crawled up my boy’s ass.
“We haven’t had our weekly maintenance session. You’re due tomorrow morning. We’ll have this discussion when it’s over. For now, the topic’s closed.”
The laces were loose, and he toed both boots off and stood, one hand on his oh-so-sexy hip, the other up and gesturing in full-on brat mode. “Because you say so?”
He hadn’t tested me yet. Not really. A few small things here and there, but not a full-on test to see what would happen if he truly misbehaved.
I lifted him, tossed him over my shoulder, and walked to my armoire. I opened a drawer while holding him so he wouldn’t fall despite his wiggling and fighting, and grabbed my largest ball gag and a handful of zip-ties.
I tossed him onto the bed, stuffed the ball-gag in his mouth, and fastened the straps. The gag’s harness goes to the back and top of the head, so it took me a few extra seconds to get on, but there was no way he’d work it free. I zip-tied his wrists behind his back, flipped him over, and worked his jeans and little black thong off. My cock went hard at the thong, but I ignored it. I didn’t know where his athletic shoes were, so I put clean socks on him before lacing his boots back on. He’d need something on his feet, and the boots would be hell to run in.
His cock was about as hard as possible and oozing, and I punched his balls until it went soft. I could see his eyes watering in my peripheral vision, but he didn’t deserve eye contact from me so I didn’t look at his face.
An especially cruel gates-of-hell made sure he’d be in pain if he got hard again, and I put a ring around his cock and balls, and attached two strong, thin chains to the ring. One chain went over his right shoulder, the other over his left, and I bent him over the bed. It took me several minutes to open him enough to get the large, heavy anal hook in him, but I did it with the bare minimum of lube. The chains were connected to the hook, and his package would be pulled up in front while the anal hook was tugged uncomfortably in his ass.
I lifted him again, not exactly gentle, but not so rough I’d injure him. He moaned and whined when I stood him on the treadmill, but I ignored him. I pulled my knife from my pocket, flipped it open, held his hands to be sure they stayed still, and a quick slice freed his wrists of the zip-ties. I punched in the pre-programmed running-in-the-mountains program, and closed and pocketed my knife.
“Five miles. If you stop it, change the program, or step off the treadmill without a damned good reason, things will be so much worse for you.”
I’d bought a cage and hadn’t assembled it yet, but it seemed there was no time like the present. While my boy ran, I got the box from the garage and carried it to my closet. I also had an infrared camera, so I’d be able to keep an eye on him even in the dark.
Matty
* * *
Daddy makes me do pushups to failure nearly every day, and he’s started making me do inclined sit-ups until I can’t do anymore, too — but so far only a few times. When I’ve hesitated before following an order, he’s made me do pushups or sit-ups, and once he put me in predicament bondage that stressed my core, so I was exhausted when he finally released me.
I’d never smarted off to him before though. Never directly challenged his authority. I wasn’t sure why I had, either.
> No, that wasn’t true. He’d defended Cam and it’d pissed me off. I’ve met guys like Cam before, perfect at everything they do, loved by everyone, better than everyone. Why could Daddy not see it?
I was beyond tired at three miles, and done for when I finally finished the five miles and the treadmill slowed and stopped. He’d programmed it so I ran up a mountain the entire time. My thighs and calves burned, my lungs were on fire, my heart ran away until I wasn’t sure it would ever slow, and my dick, balls, and asshole fucking hurt. As bad as all that was, it’s possible my jaw got the worst of it. The gag was hollow so I could breathe through it, but it was so big, it felt as if every muscle in my head, throat, and neck was spasming.
Daddy pushed me to my hands and knees when I finished, and I yelped into the gag because the position yanked my junk up by the roots. He slid the hook out, and I screamed when he thrust his cock in and spread me wide.
Daddy wasn’t easy or gentle — he fucked me hard and fast and didn’t give me a chance to get used to him. My tears flowed, and I couldn’t slow my sobs. I’d have to find a way to make things right with Daddy. He wanted his boy to behave. I’d been bad.
He came inside me before too long, and I cried even harder when he crammed the anal hook back inside me — not because it hurt, but because I’d been bad and Daddy had to punish me. Thankfully, he turned me over and unhooked the chains from the ring around my cock and balls, but then he put leather cuffs on my wrists and I realized he wasn’t finished.
He still hadn’t said much of anything, and I tried to catch his gaze while he measured the chains so I couldn’t lower my wrists below my nipples without yanking on the anal plug. He took the cock-ring off, and finally met my gaze.
“I’ll take the gag out, but not a word. Understood?”
I nodded, and he unbuckled it on top of my head first, then at the base of my skull.
“Sleeping with Daddy is a privilege. Tonight, you’ll sleep in a cage. Sometimes, you might be allowed to sleep on the floor by the bed when you’ve lost privileges, but not tonight. Since you’ll be caged, assume the diaper position.”
I considered refusing, but I was in enough trouble already. Daddy put a cloth diaper on me and a rubber protector thing over it. He made me drink eighteen ounces of water, and walked me to his closet. I stopped in the doorway, my feet suddenly frozen to the floor.
This wasn’t a dog-crate cage. The bars looked like stainless steel and were thick. The tray in the bottom also appeared to be stainless steel. It was at least six feet long and three feet wide, and perhaps two feet tall.
“Scoot in, head first.”
“I don’t want to, Daddy. Please don’t make me.” Shit, I sounded pathetic even to my own ears, but I couldn’t help it. Cages and diapers had been listed as a possibility in the contract, and I hadn’t argued against them. I’ve been in scenes with both before, but this was punishment, and that was different than playtime.
His right hand curled around my right shoulder, and the heat of it sank into me. His body moved in behind me, comforting. His lips touched my left shoulder, and his breath brushed my ear as he spoke. “You’re safe. The door won’t be locked, and I’ll be in my bedroom or bathroom. If you get into trouble, I’ll be able to hear you. There are appropriate ways for you to let me know you disagree with me, but questioning my authority is never going to go well for you. Daddy has to make sure his boy understands the rules. Your choice right now is to get in the cage or go home. If this arrangement doesn’t work for you, you shouldn’t stay. Do you want to be my boy?”
“More than anything, Daddy.”
“Then get in the cage.”
It took some maneuvering to get in, but he didn’t rush me. The second my feet made it past the lip, he put ankle cuffs on me and connected them to a hook near the door. My legs were bound together, and my wrists were still restrained at my chest so they pulled on the anal hook if I tried to lower them. I was on a hard sheet of metal with no pillow, and I couldn’t curl into a ball. It took a while, but I finally got comfortable enough on my side so I could fall into a fitful sleep. There was enough room to bend my legs a little, and I propped my butt on the bars behind me.
I awoke a few times needing to pee, but held it. It was pitch black in the closet with the door closed, and there was no way to know what time it was. Finally, I had to wet my diaper. It wasn’t the first time I’ve been put in one, so I knew it would be warm a while, and then cold. Disposable diapers are easier to deal with, but I wasn’t surprised Daddy used cloth.
I had no idea how I’d crawl backwards out of the cage the next morning, and breathed in relief when Daddy opened the entire top like a lid. He reached in, unhooked my feet from the cage, pulled me out like an infant, and carried me to the bed, where he had a little diaper changing station set up. He changed me into a fresh diaper, pulled the plastic pants up, and bike shorts on over those. Finally, he took my wrist and ankle cuffs off. “Put some sweats on. We’re going for a run before breakfast.”
Chapter 9
Razor
* * *
Matty’s young, and the easiest way to work his stiffness out would be with a long run. I chose an eight-mile route with only a few hilly areas because I knew the mountain program on the treadmill with heavy boots had been a lot for him to deal with the night before.
We started our run at five-thirty and returned home before seven. His diaper was dry, so I took him back to the closet and settled the mattress into his cage this time. “You can get in and out of the top, and you won’t be bound. Pull the top down once you’re inside. You’re on your honor — if I catch you sleeping somewhere else, or inside with the top up, or using the bathroom instead of your diaper, you’ll be bound so you can’t get yourself in and out. You don’t have to be at work for six hours. If you aren’t up by noon, I’ll come get you so you won’t be late. Since I don’t want to confuse maintenance and punishment, you’ll get your weekly maintenance tonight.”
I woke him at noon, cleaned him up from his diaper, fucked him, and sent him to the shower. And while that may sound cold, punishment was over so maybe it was more like making love — reaffirming how special he is to me, and who we are to each other. I kissed him senseless again before he left for work, watched him ride away, and cranked my truck up to go buy supplies for our maintenance session.
I wanted punishment to happen in my closet at this house. It was a walk-in deal, but not as big as I’d have preferred. Still, I’d be able to make it his official room for punishment. Meanwhile, I intended to turn the downstairs den area into a convertible playroom. I had a sofa and two recliners down there now, a huge television on the wall, and a pool table behind the sofas.
The trip to buy lumber and pipe didn’t take long, and I got to work. Two sides of the basement were underground, one side was two thirds underground with a window at ground level, which put it near the ceiling in the den. The fourth side butted against the garage. I lined that wall with cork, and then used long screws to attach cast-iron door knockers near the ceiling, just above the floor, and in the center of the wall. Two at each level, four and a half feet apart. With this setup I could create so many bondage scenarios.
Four feet away from the wall, I installed a platform just under the ceiling with a permanent chin-up bar, and connections for a speedbag to hang from the bar.
Razor
* * *
Matty wore dress pants, a dress shirt, and a tie to work at the furniture store. He didn’t look like a stuffy businessman, though. He looked like the artistic sort — professional with a flare, but it worked. I took him out to eat without making him change clothes, and listened as he excitedly told me about helping a couple plan how to furnish their new apartment.
He’d wanted Italian this evening, and I knew of an authentic mom-and-pop place. Punishment was over, and all was right with the world once again.
I took a bit of a detour getting home, so I could drive on back roads instead of the main roads, and we were both re
laxed and happy when we arrived home.
“Micca’s coming for breakfast tomorrow morning,” I told him as we put our helmets away. “She’ll bring some clothes so she can spend the night tomorrow night. I probably won’t be home until at least nine, so the two of you can get dinner on your own.” I stopped him before he went into the den. “What happens tonight?”
“Weekly maintenance, Sir.”
“That’s right. Punishment happens in my bedroom closet. Maintenance happens in the den. Play can happen anywhere except my closet. Go into the den, strip, lube your ass, wash your hands, put your wrist and ankle cuffs on, and stand in inspection pose while you wait. If you have any questions about your orders, now’s the time to ask.”
“Lube myself, cuffs, inspection pose. I understand, Sir.”
I nodded. “Position yourself under the chin-up bar, facing the wall.”
“Which wall, Sir?”
“The one set up for bondage.” I hoped my smile showed him I was pleased with the question.
I walked in and went upstairs, and left him to follow my orders.
I’m not real big on the theatrics of our lifestyle, but I understand how looking the part is important to some. Matty is all about fashion, and I knew seeing me dressed as a full-blown leather daddy would do it for him. Maintenance is all about ritual though, and I didn’t intend to dress up for him every week.
Still, I stripped and put my boots back on, along with my simplest chest harness. I grabbed the belt I intended to use for maintenance every week, and moved some deer sausage from the freezer into the refrigerator for breakfast.
To make sure Matty had time to stew while he waited, I organized everything else I intended to cook in the morning — eggs, bacon, ingredients for biscuits and gravy, and the potatoes.
Razor: Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club, Book 11 Page 7